


The One Falls Anthology

by Congar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: As big a journey and learning experience for the author as it is for the characters, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, no bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 181
Words: 694,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19789840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Congar/pseuds/Congar
Summary: The Barrier's broken and the monsters are stepping out into a Surface they've dreamed of for years uncountable and forgotten. The human that helped them break through is at their side, just as unfamiliar and unsure about the Surface as they are. Upon first glance, the monsters stumble upon another human as they emerge from their prison. A human like any other, but to the monsters 'any other' human has been instrumental to regaining their footing on the Surface. Will this one be too? And are blushed cheeks something every human wears on the Surface? Come along on a journey with humans trying to understand magic, and the memories that follow. Following not as candles that warm, but as shadows that haunt. The human condition changes ever so much when exposed to magic, but how much? And how much can one human take before becoming determined?A smorgasbord of events from tidying up a house to a goat family of six, and magic to the soul!This is a merge (amalgamation) of the One Falls series into one story with the chapters:1-30:One falls, more rise31-61:More rose, one remains62-104:One saved, more left behind104-120:One Falls: Change Of Heart(s)121-181:More invited, one to celebrate





	1. One falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thanks to the wonderful BlackRazorBill for their celebration of One Falls turning one year old!.](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/post/160410186572/congratulation-to-the-fanfic-author-congar-for)

  


""Screw it. This, this is the day!" you say to yourself as you wake up.

This self pity has to stop, you have to move on with your life. You can't stay inside your house forever, you made a promise. It is a beautiful day outside, so maybe you should take a jog to freshen up your mind. Some exercise to mark a new chapter in your life? Sounds good to you.

Huh, strange.

You thrust yourself out of your bed and rush down to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

After a quick one you scour the hallway closet for your running shoes. You smile as you manage to get them on your feet. The excitement of doing something is a feeling you've almost forgotten, and the smile stays as you lock the door. As you round the street corner you find some wild flowers and stop to pick them up. White and yellow flowers, mom's favorite. You decide that it might be a good idea to tell your family about the start of your new chapter.

The iron gate squeaks as you open it. You look around to make sure that you're alone and walk up to your family.

"Hey mom, dad, bro, sis. Long time no see."

The wind shakes a nearby aspen. It sounds like whispers, they greet you back.

"Listen, I know I've been, absent. I also know I said that I would visit you more often and I'm sorry about that. There's been a lot on my mind these past months. Truth be told, this is my weekly exit out of the house."

Another gust of wind shakes the tree harder.

"I promised to not let it impact me, didn't I? Well, you're not here to correct me," you say with a fake snicker, "but this is the day. Today I'm gonna turn my life around. I plan to take a jog up Mt. Ebott to clear my head, and then we'll see what happens. Hopefully the next time we talk I'll have a job. "

You lay the flowers down.

"Love you all."

You turn around and take the exit that opens towards the mountain. The iron gate squeaks as you close it. You choose the nearby sign as the starting point for your jog.

"Mt. Ebott graveyard," you read out loud.

You breathe out a sigh and start your run.

As you reach the base of the mountain you wonder if the secret passageway your mother told you about is still there. The path is overgrown and you have to fight some stubborn branches to see the start of it. It is a tiny path, almost unrecognizable because of how rarely it's used. You wager that you're the first one to use it in years, hopefully you remember the general direction it leads to. It is a very serene path, untamed forest grow on both sides creating a tunnel of green. The shadows from the leafs above you meld together into a layer of gray on the ground as the sun disappears behind the clouds. The wind picks up around you, but you're isolated from it under the trees. Despite the low visibility you still carry on.

While you steadily climb the mountain you begin to wonder about the legend surrounding the mountain, that people that climb it never return. Perhaps a small part of you want to see if that's true. You shake that idea away, you made a promise. Besides, you've been up there a couple of times with your parents and you've made it down safely. The legends could just be that, legends. Despite the idea sticking even after your effort to shake it loose, you still carry on.

A couple of minutes later you start to feel the sun peeking out from its hiding spot and the path turns into a kaleidoscope of green, brown, and orange. Sun shafts dance above you, moving as you do. You see the veins of the leafs. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this was a good idea. The sun wastes no time warming your surroundings, and you feel yourself working up a bigger sweat than before. You curse yourself for not bringing any water. Despite the lack of hydration you still carry on.

The mountain shakes and you lose your balance. Earthquake? Here? How? The mountain is as steady as, well, a mountain. It has never moved for as long as you can remember. You can't come up with any logical explanation. It also feels like you've been drained of something. You feel, tired, but not really. It's not exhaustion it is something else, something inside of you. You wonder if you've gone to far. Despite the danger you still carry on.

The plateau creeps closer and closer as the sun starts to set. You feel exhaustion take over and every step becoming harder, but you can't give up now. You're so close! A few minutes of heavy breathing later the ground flattens and your steps become easier to take. The sun is now at the horizon and you push yourself as hard as you can so that you can reach the plateau in time.

You swing your tired legs over the edge as you sit down and lean back on your arms. The view is as great as you remember. The setting sun bathes the town in a glistering orange and like long brushes of black paint the shadows of the buildings stretch out towards you. The forest below you turns from green to a color you can't really name but it's nice regardless of what you might call it so you leave the thought behind you. You have to squint your eyes as the sun stares you in the face but you still manage to enjoy the sight. The light eventually becomes too much and you lay down instead to enjoy the warmth. You breathe a pleased sigh and close your eyes.

You're awoken from your rest by a faint voice. You stand up and call it out but you don't get an answer. You focus your hearing and manage to trace its origin a bit further away. You walk closer and round a cliff. A dark mouth invites you inside an even darker cave. You call out the voice again. The cave goes silent for a second before an answer echoes out. You can't make out the words and your curiosity gets the best of you. You enter.

The cave is warmer than you thought. Your eyes struggle to find shapes and you tread carefully, although you can't see them you can feel rocks and stalagmites cluttering the cave floor. You call out the voice a third time, this time you ask them if they're hurt. Another silence follows and the answer comes as a high pitched yell. Someone is definitely in trouble. You quicken your pace even though you fear that you might trip. Your eyes start adjusting themselves to the low light and you manage to spot a small figure deeper inside the cave.

"You lost kid? Come, let's get out of here," you shout out.

"LOOK, A HUMAN HAS COME TO GREET US AND WELCOME US TO THE SURFACE! THIS TRULY IS A JOYOUS DAY!" says another, much taller, figure. You're taken back by the pitch and volume of the voice.

"Now Papyrus, we need to be careful with out first impression," instructs another voice. It is soft and warm.

"yeah, don't want to make a barrier now that we've just destroyed one," says a third. It follows up its quip with a pleased laugh.

"Hello?" you ask the crowd before you.

"it can speak. ain't that something?" says the third voice again.

"Now now, let me take care of this," says a fourth voice with a commanding authority. It is filled with care though.

It steps out into the slit of sunlight from outside. You scramble backwards as you see its visage. Two huge horns stand tall on a goat's head and a purple drape obscures a thick and ornate breastplate. It towers over you as it gets closer and stops a couple of steps away. It lifts out a hand. A dangerous looking trident flashes as its robe moves from the motion of its arm. You scurry back on your feet and rush towards the exit. In your haste you trip over a vine and fall down. You brace yourself for the impact but you fail to see the sharp stone under you. You hit your head, hard.

"Good job Asgore! One minute outside the barrier and you've already killed a human," says an angry voice, its soft features are nowhere to be heard.

"I, I thought," comes an answer. The voice is filled with regret.

"No, you didn't," retorts the angry voice.

"Th-they're still breathing! Let's get t-them outside so I can treat the wound," stammers another voice.

"Undyne, help me with the human," commands the angry voice.

Darkness absorbs your vision.


	2. More rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thanks to the wonderful BlackRazorBill for their rendition of the chase scene.](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/post/152741748012/smells-like-sweaty-sushi-from-the-fanfiction)

"The view is great up here."

You think you recognize that voice.

"Sure is. Look at all the colors."

You don't feel cold. In fact, you're quite warm.

"Look over there, a town."

Your vision is completely white and blurry.

"Maybe this one is from there? Let's wait until they've awakened."

That voice, there's something familiar about it. Motherly is the only word you can describe it with. You feel something pushing against your head. Is that...a bandage? As you examine the bandage with your fingers you feel something wet. You look at your blurry hand. Something red covers it. Blood!

"LUCKILY FOR THEM FRISK HAD A BANDAGE!"

What happened! Where are you? You feel nauseous.

"in your case it would be a bonedage, bro."

Something is thumping inside your head. You aren't sure if it is your injury or the joke.

"Th-th-they hit their head pretty hard. A concussion is p-pretty likely, I think."

"How about we splash them with water? That works pretty good for me. Right, Frisk?"

The voice follows up with a thick laugh.

"No!"

The laughter stops.

"S-s-sorry. I mean, they are unconscious, and they could drown if we're unlucky."

"i would say that they would be more unluckier."

Your eyes remember how to focus and you shift your gaze towards the voices. You catch your mouth with your hand to stop it from screaming. Before you stands seven beings. Two skeletons, a blue woman with fins instead of ears, a dinosaur in a coat. Questions rattle of in your head like popcorn until they are all struck down by fear. On each side of the group stands two large goat like creatures with large horns. There's a human among them, a child. There's something familiar about them.

You lay quietly and try to find an opportunity to escape. Someone said something and the row bursts out into laughs, this is your chance. You scramble up on your feet and charge towards the corner. The thumping in your head grows stronger and blood pours down your cheeks. Your lungs are aching but you're filled with such fear and confusion that you don't acknowledge them. The only thing on your head is run. Run home, you're safe there. You dodge trees and bushes as fast as you can but you can only dodge so fast. Twigs hit your face and you catch a mouthful of leaves. You spit them out as silently as you can. Finally the plateau reaches a point where you can run downhill. It's in worse shape than the path leading upward but still you press on! You must! Quick! Before they spot you!

You manage a bit down the road before a sound startles you. You manage to keep your footing and you search for the source. A nearby bush rumbles, and as you turn to brace yourself for whatever it is, you're assaulted by a white and fluffy dog. It knocks you off balance before diving into the bushes on the other side. You crash down on some flowers, knocking dirt and petals up in the air. Pollen enters your eyes and they tear up. You scream in pain as you rub them. Bad decision.

"There they are your majesty! I'll run after them and bring them back to you."

"Alive please, we're starting a new chapter. Remember that, Undyne."

"Of course, your majesty. Now, HUMAN!"

Through watery eyes you detect something blue materialize besides something bluer.

"Prepare to be retrieved! NGAAAH!"

Again you scramble on your feet and run.

  


The path flattens out and you see the edges of your hometown basking in the afternoon sun. For the first time in what seems like an eternity you're happy to see it. You can't savor the moment for too long as the blue creature is catching up to you. Fast. Inhumanely fast! You become aware of this fact when you hear a delighted war cry coming down the cliff. You can't pinpoint its exact location because of all the trees but you still prepare yourself for the last sprint. It feels like there's more lactic acid than blood in your veins but still. You have to give it your all now! And then some! But that's still not enough!

"This is a great warm up human! We should jog like this! Together, up and down, until our legs collapse from sheer exhaustion. Then we can crawl instead. When our arms stop working, we can worm our way up. Arms, legs and core, all on the same hill. Then we go higher up, less oxygen, and therefore more efficient training. The cold will steel us as well. NGAAAH! The Surface is great!"

The creature chasing you doesn't seem to need to breathe considering the amount of rambling it starts yelling as soon as it sees you. She is now in hearing distance and you aren't in safe-in-house distance. She will catch up with you, you've no doubt about that. Still, you have to focus on running! The ramblings soon turns into questions about nearby gyms and martial arts clubs.

"Are they just hand to hand or is there some with weapons involved? Can we spar? Again, do you do hand to hand, or weapon?"

You sure like a weapon right about now.

A spear lands right beside you and you almost trip over it. A second spear crashes before you and you clumsily avoid it.

"Third times the charm!" you hear before a spear slips between your legs and trips you.

Your arms scrape against the pavement. Dirt and asphalt covers your lips and you hear footsteps getting closer. You raise your head, the familiar red paint of your house stand in contrast to the green color of the overgrown lawn that you've been ignoring. You're so goddamn close now, just a few steps!

"Now let's see what Asgore wants with you. I bet that he would like to NGAAH."

With some great effort, you turn your body against the voice. A dog, the same dog that attacked you is now lodged against the face of your pursuer, licking it. Muffled screams mixed with laughter is heard. You waste no time and quickly rush the last hundred meters and frisk your body looking for the key. To your immense relief, you find it, and you open the door before hastily closing it behind you. The lock clicks, but to be extra safe, you press up a nearby table up against the door. With it in place you finally breathe out. The echo of your harsh breathing is bouncing around your hallway. Just the process of breathing out is making you faint, but now you're safe. Finally! But what now? Water, water quick and plenty. You turn your tired body towards the kitchen. Water! Now!

You can see the gray tiles of your kitchen and the metal of your sink. The inviting cold waiting in your refrigerator and your red mop resting against it. How can a mop bob up and down like that? Your mop is also gray, not red. How did it?

"No, please, no," you cry out.

The mop leans backwards and is followed by the blue hue of an arm seeking rest on the refrigerator door. The blue creature pokes out from behind the refrigerator door.

"It was a close race, wasn't it? Good thinking by opening the back window, we don't want to raise too much suspicion right?" it says while smiling, exposing its long and sharp teeth, but not in a threatening way. "Let's grab a bite to eat and then we'll run back up. Not too fast though, we wouldn't want to get the cramps now would we?" it continues as its head disappears back into the refrigerator.

"No, no, no, no! I'm home! I'm safe!" you scream.

Her head comes back out just in time to see you drop to your knees in a mess of sobs and tears. There's nothing left in you.

"Hm, I guess I can just bring the gang back here if it's OK with you? Seems to be plenty of space," she says with a considerably softer tone. "Somewhat secluded as well what with the jungle in your backyard. You sure you weren't expecting us?"

Her smile returns.

"Water," you answer.

"Sure thing."

She closes the refrigerator and walks towards the pile of dishes you call a sink. Somehow she manages to fit a glass under the faucet without it lodging on something. The sound of pouring water brings you to near ecstasy. The sun is refracting in both the glass and the water as she brings it closer to you. She kneels down and her reassuring smile fills you with happiness. You catch just a moderate amount of water in your mouth as she splashes it against your face. You weren't prepared for the speed of the life giving liquid, and the sound of coughs, and other involuntary reflexes, bounces through the dirty kitchen.

"Oh no, I'm so- I mean, it always works on me."

"Water!" you plead in between coughs.

"Yes, yes! Of course!"

You catch your breath more in thanks to having tasted the water and less to your stamina when another glass is brought before you. You lift a heavy hand that becomes heavier with a full glass in it. It shakes with your hand as your strength is nowhere to be found. The shatter is dampened by the water in it, and the water pools into a mocking puddle next to your knees.

"Oh! Here have mine," the blue creature offers after filling another glass. She puts the glass against your lip. The taste of dirt and pavement is washed away in a wave of cold and purity.

"More!" you demand harshly.

She nods, ignoring the tone of your voice. This repeats for two more times before a pot is dug up from the pile of porcelain and metal. You're impressed that she manages to do that without spelunking equipment. The pot is brought before you literally spilling with cold and precious hydration. There are few things you would classify as religious and this might take a spot on that list. You drink, you gasp for air, you drink again. This goes on until the pot is empty.

"Better?" she asks.

The irony of a fish giving a human water on land is dancing inside your head. You look up to thank the fish out of water, to give you. She looks at you with her eyes, no, eye. Her singular eye. The other one is covered with a black patch. You're ashamed that you only now noticed that, but it's understandable considering the dirt, sweat, tears, and water in your eyes. Your plural eyes. You push away the thought and force out a thank you. The face covering smile returns.

"No problem, but next time you should take it a little slower. I don't want to spar with someone who's not at their full strength," she laughs out and gives you a pat on the back. You fall over and the sound of damp cloth hitting wood fills the empty house. Luckily you missed the shards of broken glass.

"Oh, I didn't mean to do that, honestly," the blue creature apologises with some panic in her voice.

"Why are you doing this?" you answer with your face on the cold floor.

"Because Asgore wanted you alive, and I can't bring a corpse to him. Not anymore."

"Then why did he attack me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He had a weapon! He was going to attack me. He reached for it as he approached me."

Now she really is a fish out of water. Dumbfounded she stares at you trying to make sense of the nonsense you're speaking. You're surprised how low her eyebrows reach. Her hand is scratching the lobe over her eye patch. It sounds unfamiliar, claw against scale.

"Then you ran after me, I thought I could escape but-"

A howl of laughter stops you in the middle of your sentence. It continues for a while and you start to become annoyed that she interrupted you in the middle of a sentence. Finally the laughter secedes and now it's her turn to be out of breath.

"You're serious?" she asks while giggling.

"Of course I am," you spit back.

"Then what about this?"

She presses a finger against your bandage and you moan in pain.

"That is what a concussion looks and feels like," she explains while rubbing the blood from her fingers, "We thought you would die, it was a pretty nasty fall. Asgore just wanted to greet you, nothing else."

Your world starts spinning while her laughter reignites. You can't make sense of anything anymore. You feel your entire body argue against you and there's nothing else you can do except cry. An arm takes hold of you, relieving the burden of a having to support your body from you.

"Come now, you should get some rest. Where do you sleep?"

"Upstairs, second door to the left, after the bathroom," you say with your tired lungs.

"Good, some upper body training as well."

Despite her slim appearance she carries you without any argument. You feel your skin rubbing against her scales, it hurts a bit. You are more aware of the fact that you're covering her with your sweat, but your crutch seem to pay no mind to it. She stops in front of your front door and pulls a table leg with her own. The table understands what she wants and follows her on to the ground. She nods at it, and lifts one foot onto the first step.

"Do you mind if I do some squats on each step?"

You answer incomprehensibly.

"I understand. I won't."

She escalates quickly and opens the door you described with her knee. Once inside the master bedroom, she pushes away the bedding with the heel of her foot.

"Sorry about the stain, I'll clean it tomorrow."

The stain is nothing compared to the amount of sweat you bring with you. Like a baby she lays you down on the soft fabric being extra careful with your head.

"I'm just gonna make some calls then I will right back. Don't worry, I won't let you sleep alone with a concussion."

"Thank you," you manage to whisper.

"Don't sweat it," she says while failing to hold back her grin.

Even though you are repulsed by the contents of the joke you are comforted by the gesture. A thin slice of the afternoon sun is all that she leaves after leaving the room. It slashes at an angle across your chest. You close your eyes, feeling the stickiness of dried sweat locking them together.

"Make sure to bring a first aid kit, I could look around but I don't want to leave them. Just bring one to be sure."

A guardian fish. You picture her with wings and a halo. The image doesn't surprise you.

You can live with that.


	3. Blood, sweat, and tears

"There has been a complication. A splinter of bone in her chest has been infected. You see, the splinter functioned as a sort of capsule, holding the bacteria inside it. The infection was contained whilst we had her on our antibiotics, but since you requested that she would continue her treatment at home we tried to acclimate her to more general antibiotics that you could get yourself."

"I understand," you answer as you try to hold back your tears.

"As the bacteria grew they consumed the splinter, and a piece of it broke and lodged itself inside her heart. We are doing everything we can, but her body is so exhausted. She doesn't have any reserves in her. I've put her on the donor list but there is a chance that the infection could spread, she is showing decreased lung capacity. We've medicated her for that. "

"Can I see her?"

"She should be stable enough for you to visit her, but we've moved her to a clean room. Please follow me."

The clean room is stale and devoid of emotion. You feel the tears build up just being there.

"Can I come home soon?" she asks.

"Of course sis, I've talked with the doctors and you should be home by the start of next month," you lie. Why? Why did you lie?

She is overjoyed and her laughter spills out into the hospital corridor.

Maybe that's why...

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she yells as she jumps into your awaiting arms.

"Anything for you. I love you so much," you answer back. You want to stroke her hair, but the way she looks...

No! Finally you can start over, the both of you. You savor the moment, feeling her laughter against your shoulder. But there is something else, something wet. You look at her. Tears? Of joy? You lift her before you. No, not of joy.

"What is it?" you ask.

"My chest!" she screams. Her hands are clutching her hospital robe with strength she shouldn't have!

You're startled by the beeps, the innumerous beeps. All around you.

"Nurse! Doctor!" you call.

But no one comes.

Nothing! No one is here. Just you, her, and the machines. Numbers are appearing on them but their meaning is lost on you.

"Nurse! Doctor! Anyone!" you call again. Your fear scares her. She doesn't understand! You two were supposed to come back together!

You hear footsteps and the rattling of drawers behind you. Her doctor is here! She'll be safe. You are pushed aside as two nurses rush to the machines and IV drip. Her face is getting paler, but she still looks at you. You try to smile reassuringly, but you can feel it fail. A pair of paddles are brought towards her gray body. They discharge, causing her body to convulse and thrust upward. She is still looking at you. Another discharge follows and-

You lunge yourself up, tearing a hole in the bedding where your sweat had dried up. New sweat loosen the tight grip your clothes have accumulated during the night. Some hair follows with your cover as you throw it aside and swing your legs over the bedside. They are as stiff as the legs of your bed. You search for a corner of the bedding on your back and peel it off. It sounds like a zipper being undone. You rest your heavy head in your hands.

"Fuck."

You sit in silence. The slice of sunshine slices the bottom of the bed at an angle. Everything is unpleasant, old sweat is being mixed with new sweat and spreading an odor that clashes with the stench of old gym bag already present in the room. You take a few minutes to collect yourself from that horrible memory. It takes longer than you would've wanted but you finally muster enough strength to stand up.

Your knees grind like gravel but you demand that they obey. Luckily they soften up as you walk down the corridor. You take the stairs two steps at a time and swing around the corner, hand on the railing. The wood floor is quite slippery and you can get some distance just gliding with the momentum from the descent down the stairs. You do just that, gripping the golden ornament, your fingers matches perfectly on the weathering of your previous swings. You bend your arm to increase speed and take the jump. Once you feel the edge of the railing with your fingers you let go, landing on your dry socks and glide towards the kitchen. You usually average halfway between the sink and the refrigerator, just below the cabinet where the cereals are.

"Maybe the freezer," you think, you did hit the corner pretty well.

Out of the side of the doorway you see a yellow and scaly nose, then a pair of glasses, then a white coat. It's carrying a kettle and headings towards the cabinets. Presumably it's looking for either tea or coffee. She sees you too late to move but not too late to react. A high pitched squeal is produced by the hunched over lizard as you approach with record speed. You raise your arms to catch the scaly creature but in your effort to brace against the hit you forget about the threshold between the rooms. You trip with your arms halfway around the coat. You instinctively close your arms dragging the terrified bundle of squeal down. You glide on the floor and your wet skin leaves a stretch of moisture after you. Her spikes are bouncing on the bottom cupboards like a stick on a fence. Her path is also wet, though from tears and not to the extent of yours. You grind to a halt, your skin is red from the friction against the cold tile. You look at your unwilling partner in this tango of confusion.

Her hands are covering her face, the tail is curled up under her legs and up on her stomach and sobs can be heard. You both jolt when you hear the kettle make a swan dive into the pile of dishes, now a pile of white and translucent shards. You both react by squeezing each other, drawing each other closer. She smells like, pink. You can't really place the smell. You're pretty sure she can smell you, gray, just like the tiles. After a couple of uncomfortably intimate seconds you lock eyes. You both release your titan grip from each other and awkwardly shuffle apart.

"i've heard of ice skating but never of tile skating," a voice observes, pleased with itself.

A pair of slippers with a wide arrangement of condiments steps into the kitchen followed by a pair of legs, very pale legs mind you, bone white, bone, no flesh, just bone. Following the, shins, comes a pair of sport shorts with an even wider arrangement of condiments. A pair of bony hands, again, just bones, are tucked nicely inside the pockets. A blue jacket is hanging over the top halves of the shorts and a white shirt. Maybe it was white, you can't tell by the somehow even wider collection of ketchup, mustard and relish, to name a few. The dome of this peculiar individual is round, like a melon with a corset in the middle. Two empty sockets examine you. They are dark but not in that cave like dark, more like the darkness between the stars in the night sky. They lock with yours and a star ignites in each socket, completing your metaphor. Their smile, which has never left their face, in fact it takes up the majority of the real estate, grows wider. The arms leave the comfort of their pockets and arise above his shoulders, flats up.

"you seemed troubled, skeletons in your closet? kitchen in your case."

"Skeleton, there's a skeleton in my kitchen!" you scream inside.

"D-don't do that Sans, we don't want to spook them. Cut i-it out."

"And a lizard too?" you yell, outside this time.

You back up as fast as you can staring at the creatures in your kitchen. An open cupboard denies your escapes as a corner is buried inside your elbow. The pain is bad, but not as bad as the scream you release.

"better?" the smiling skeleton asks hands back into their respective pockets.

"Yes," you reply, breathing through clenched teeth.

"good to hear," he says. He turns on his heels and disappears into the living room.

As you sit there, holding your arm, you turn your eyes towards the crumpled up ball of scale and coat. Their tail in their hands like a blanket, tugged up against their cheeks. Before you can apologize for your outrage you hear the sound of wet scales against floor. Where the skeleton stood moments ago now stands another being. A towel covers her body, red hair covers her head and face and a blue plasma like spear is covering her right hand.

"I heard fighting, shattering and pained screams. The first two I can understand but the third one caught my ear," she asks while breathing heavily.

She then snaps her gaze towards the lizard.

"Alphys, what did I tell you?"

She points at you with her spear.

"The human should be in bed!"

"Th-the-they were, but I thought that I would surprise it by bringing them some tea," the lizard stammers out while tapping two claws together.

"You left them?"

The spear grows larger and more unstable

"S-s-sorry, I-I just wanted to make a good first impression, not like what I did with Frisk."

The tail now has to double as a blanket and tissue paper. You take pity over the miserable pile of snot and tears.

"Oh, Alphee." The spear sizzles away. "I'm sorry, I overreacted. But we can't kill the first human we see here. Like Asgore said, new chapter you know."

You understand that you're not part of the conversation. They are talking about you, not to you.

"Come on now," she says with the same comforting tone she had yesterday.

You remember now. The mountain, the cave, the creatures and the run back down. What was her name again? You strain yourself trying to figure it out.

"T-thank you Undyne, I understand."

"Undyne! Yes, I remember now," you shout.

You scare them as much as you scare yourself. After a long silence Undyne finally breaks out in a laugh.

"Well, it looks to be alive so I'm letting you off the leash, Alphee. Why don't you fix with that tea while I dress?" she says before kissing Alphys on the forehead. Alphys' face turns red. Undyne gives you a hand and lifts you up on your feet.

"Aren't reptiles cold blooded?" you ask yourself.

"One more and you'll start owing me," Undyne informs as she dusts off your shoulder.

"I guess so. Is the shower free? I need some time to, process."

"as long as you keep it locked inside the bathroom it will never be free," comes a voice from the living room.

Undyne rolls her eye.

"That's Sans. Have you met him? Short, blue jacket."

"And a skeleton?" you add.

"Yup, he the reason you screamed?"

"Yes, and no," you admit after debating with yourself whether you should.

"We'll talk it over lunch OK? Go and enjoy that shower. I'll let you rest today, but tomorrow." She bumps your shoulder. "We're going to spar."

"Actually I wouldn't recommend any more head injuries," Alphys chips in.

"Fine, two days."

"Um."

"Three days!" Undyne puts her foot down. Loudly. "That's long enough Alphee."

"I've read that effects from a concussion can manifest even after years. I just want to make sure. D-didn't you say that we shouldn't kill the first human we meet?"

Another squeal is thrown around the kitchen, but this time from Undyne.

"Alphee! I'm so proud! You stood up for yourself."

"Did I? S-s-orry Undyne," Alphys apologizes while cowering in shame.

"No, don't apologize. We've talked about this."

"N-next time Undyne. I promise."

"Good," Undyne's smile says.

She leaves you and Alphys standing in the kitchen.

"S-s-so where do you keep the tea?" the yellow lizard wonders while struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Hm? Sorry, yes, in the top cabinet," you explain as you make your way towards the stairs.

"The t-top cabinet?"

"Yes, the one just left of the refrigerator," you reply from the hallway.

"Oh, OK, thanks."

You realize why she asked and smack your forehead. To make it up for her, you kindly ask what flavor she and the other likes as you walk back towards her.

"Golden Flower tea is a favorite among us."

"Never heard of it," you reply as you open the cabinet. A collection of herbal smells hits you like a wave.

"Um, what do you have then, human?"

You arrange a row of different flavors on the tabletop.

"These."

She examines the different flavors.

"I'm sure I can figure something out, thank you."

You nod and exit the kitchen and as you round the corner you hear a high pitched voice yelling at someone.

"SANS YOU LAZY SACK OF BONES! UNDYNE SAID THAT THE HUMAN WOULD BE HUNGRY! HELP ME COOK UP SOME HEALTHY SPAGHETTI! THEY'LL NEED IT TO RECOVER THEIR STRENGTH!"

"nah, i'll just hold down the fort. the pillow fort that is."

"SAAAANS!"

"If he gets a single piece of ketchup on that sofa I swear," you say to yourself. Later! Deal with it later. Just take that damn shower. That is what you need now, not worrying about ketchup on that fine leather sofa. You take two steps at a time up the stairs now that your knees are a bit less stiffer.

The shower is a welcoming sight. It's still somewhat steamy from the previous user, but your head is too tired to imagine how that went. You grab the bottom of your shirt and pull it up. It feels like peeling an extra layer of skin. Your legs are still a bit sore from the bed.

Wait...

When did they remove your pants? Fortunately your underwear is still on, but still. You dump your clothes on top of your overflowing laundry basket and step inside the shower. You close the curtain. Alone, at last. You flick the temperature knob back into it's starting position. The process is all reflex so you don't catch what temperature Undyne was using. You place your other hand on the other knob and flick it to max. A small amount of water from the shower before you hits your back. It's wonderful. Then the full force of the shower hits you. It's perfect. You feel a door closing beneath you.

"Let's see if I can sort this out," you think to yourself. "First thing first, I'm not dead, and I'm home, in my shower, with a bunch of characters below me."

Steam fills your bathroom.

"They seem harmless enough," you add.

"But what about the trident?" you rebuke.

"I'm concussed, remember?" you counter. "It felt real, and I don't know how I'll react if i see him again. Let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

You feel your hair finally separating from itself and drag a hand through it. You twist the shower head so you can lean against the wall and shower at the same time. You also unwrap your bandage, noticing that it's not the same one that you had yesterday. It's white and pink with a picture of a cartoon cat in a doctor's outfit. The detail is surprisingly clear for a bandage. You jerk the last part covering your injury, causing it to bleed a bit, and throw the bandage over the curtain towards the bathroom sink. You pinch your nose bridge.

"Who are they really, they came from that cave. From below? Under the mountain? Didn't they have a child with them?" you try to remember.

You swear that you've heard or read about something that rings familiar, but you can't really put your finger on it. You hear the sound of porcelain hitting porcelain. Are they digging through the dishes again?

The whooshing of the downstairs toilet being flushed disprove your theory, and replaces it with the theory of old plumbing. A torrent of cold water speeds up the pipes diverging into the downstairs and upstairs bathroom. Normally the upstairs water just hits a lock, and flow into an overflow pipe, but since the way is now open it rushes to the upstairs bathroom instead. The cold water replaces the warm comfort of your shower.

The following shock jolts your memory.

"Monsters!" you remember. "They are monsters! Wait, didn't the tales speak of a barrier? How did they escape?"

The water warms up again, and with that, your confidence. You decide that answers are in order, and clean yourself with vigor. As you step out of the bathroom with a towel around your waist your nose alerts you of something mysterious.

"Tomatoes?" you guess.

You take another sniff.

"And meat."

Oh, yeah. The unknown voice claimed that it was making spaghetti. You do feel like you haven't eaten in forever. Lunch and answers. Perfect!

You swing left and enter your bedroom. Inside, you notice that the bedding is missing. You guess that Undyne must have thrown it out, considering the hole that was made in it. You walk towards the wardrobe and pick some simple clothes. The joy of wearing clothes and not being one with them delights you. As you make yourself towards the stairs you hear three powerful knocks. Undyne rushes to answers in your place.

"Come in, your majesties, we're just about done with the lunch."

The door opens with its familiar creak, and is swiftly followed by another creak which sounds like floorboards gasping for help. You also hear something scrape against wood.

"Oh, dear," comments a deep voice.

"Are you serious, Asgore? What did I just say five minutes ago?" a less deep and more soothing voice berates.

"Yes, sorry, dear, I'll fix it later."

"And what did I say about the dear thing?"

"Sorry, Toriel."

You're confused as to why you don't hear any footsteps besides the sounds of small shoes, then it hits you. The bridge is coming up faster than you would've wanted. You take a minute to collect your thoughts and breathe out.

"Let's see what happens when we grab the devil by its horns," you think, and step towards the stairs.


	4. Lunch is served, not cooked

Two beams of light stare at you as you descend the stairs. They originate from two half circles above the front door and you frown at the thought of fixing them. You shift your attention to the clanking of plates and silverware informing you that lunch should be ready any minute now. You figure that the kitchen is probably full of people, monsters, and decide to go through the living room instead to reach the dining area.

The living room is dusty, you've not used it so much since the, accident. There's a skeleton juggling three ketchup bottles without hands for the purpose of entertaining a brown haired child. You rub your eyes and blink. There's a skeleton drinking from a ketchup bottle and the child is reading a book. You wonder what will happen the next time you blink, but as you think that you blink twice without thinking, nothing happens. You let it go.

"Sans, was it?" you address the skeleton.

"it's what everyone else is calling me, so i guess that you can too."

"Did I do something wrong?" you reply. From his manners, it really sounds like you did.

He runs a finger against the armrest.

"living alone in such a big house, i'm curious."

"Yeah?"

He rolls the dirt on his finger into a ball and flicks it away. He then turns to you with vacant eye sockets.

"and all this dust."

He sweeps the back of the sofa, the dust flutters down and sparkle in the midday sun.

"could only come from someone with a lot of EXP."

You don't know what he's talking about, but before you can retort the child gives the skeleton a smack on his shin.

"i wasn't serious, frisk. well, a little bit. just wanted to be sure."

His pupils come back.

"Sure about what?" you ask.

"you being related to an old acquaintance. you look a bit familiar, that's all."

"We've just met."

"and that's why it's strange to me."

The child gives him a harder hit.

"but i guess you're good in our book. let's go, lunch smells ready."

The child follows the skeleton into the dining area. Does it really smell like it's ready? It does smell like spaghetti, but more like leftover rather than freshly made. Also, what the hell was that? Related to who? Who is this skeleton, telling jokes in one instance, and then accusing you of something in the next? More questions for the lunch, you suppose.

The long table is prepared for eight people, but the seating is more spaced out than normal. A window is opened and some grass stain its frame, Undyne's entrance. There's a warm breeze flowing in causing the tablecloth to dance where it's not being weighed down. The dining room is considerably less dustier than the living room because of that window. It's been stuck for three months and you haven't gotten around to fixing it yet.

There is an argument irradiating from the kitchen. Something about the heat of the stove. You assume that there's an argument as you can't make out the words. Just a bunch of nyaas and nyees. Mixed among them are two deep voices talking about something. You think you also detect a faint snore. Your overworked microwave ding, and the kitchen goes quiet.

"BREAD IS DONE! NOW EVERYONE, FOLLOW ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, TO THE PLACE WHERE WE WILL FEAST UPON THIS MAGNIFICENT SPAGHETTI!"

You take a seat and notice that all the utensils are ordered with the fork on the right side. You contort your face in annoyance and switch yours.

"i told her the placement was forked up."

You nearly jump out of your seat as you notice that you now have someone on your left side.

"How did you?"

"shortcut."

"But-"

You're interrupted by a delighted yell.

"AH, THE HUMAN IS HERE AS WELL! AMAZING, TRULY A WONDROUS EVENT! NOW, HUMAN, PREPARE YOUR TASTE BUDS FOR THE GLORY OF MY NUTRITIOUS SPAGHETTI!"

A tall skeleton carrying a large tomato stained pot strides from the kitchen with enormous glee in big boots. His length stand in stark contrast to the one sitting next to you, in fact, everything does. Armor instead of clothes. Loud instead of quiet. Scarf instead of...no scarf. The scarf's color is too close to the tomato sauce for your comfort.

"you should seriously prepare, trust me," the smaller one advises.

The pot is placed in the middle of the table and the tall one rounds the table in your direction.

"ALLOW ME, HUMAN!"

He stretches a mitten covered hand towards you.

"Please," you reply, handing him your plate.

"ALWAYS!" he says.

He shoves the teethed spoon deep down the pot with his scarf dangling mere centimeters over the sauce. A huge mess of pasta, half melted tomatoes, and irregular shapes of meat arise with grace and lands with considerably less grace on your plate. His skills seems more fitted in serving the food rather than making it.

"BON APPETIT! I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS BUT I READ IN YOUR COOKBOOK THAT IT'S SOMETHING HUMAN COOKS SAY! SO I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL HONOR THAT TRADITION!" he informs as his cuisine is placed in front of you.

"don't you mean bone appetit, bro?"

A slightly mellow NYEH follows the pun. You examine the food. What is this you've been given? The spaghetti is under cooked and it looks like it's just taken a dip in the water rather than being cooked in it. The tomatoes are just halves, and the meat is thrown in without care. Luckily the meat looks cooked enough. You're too busy staring at the tangled food to see that the rest of the table has been seated. When you tear yourself from the food you see Undyne on your right. Alphys has taken place on the opposite side of you with the child to her right and Papyrus on her left side. On the right end of the table sits a large goat and on the other end sits a larger goat. On a sofa. They must have retrieved it from the cellar while you were showering. The girdle running beneath the floor under the table is preventing any pained sounds from the floor planks. The same can not be said for the sofa, and despite it bending down and lowering its seater a bit it fails to impact his commanding presence.

You realize that you've stalled for too long, and take a bite of your food. The need to chew extra hard on the pasta noodles is not sitting well with you. Some straws are sticking through both the tomatoes and the meat like a small skewer. You dip your bread into the sauce and taste it. Unsurprisingly, and to your delight, it tastes like tomato. Despite the effort you need to put into to consuming you still welcome the energy hoping that, in the end, it'll be a net positive. The sound of clanking silverware fills you with warm nostalgia. You've not experienced this in quite some time. You wonder when the best time is to address this peculiar situation and convince yourself that sooner is better than later. You clean your mouth with your napkin.

"So," you start.

"NO NEED TO THANK ME HUMAN, IT IS MY PLEASURE TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SPAGHETTI! JUST SAY THE WORD!" Papyrus replies proudly.

You swallow another bite.

"No, it's not thaackgh."

A straw decides it wants to be special, and fixates itself sideways in your throat causing you to start coughing.

"choking on our words are we?" Sans says and gives you a hard pat on the back.

The straw jumps up and triggers another reflex.

"NGAAAH! How many times must I tell people to stop trying to kill the human?" Undyne says, looking angrily back and forth between Papyrus and Sans. Blue energy is forming around her hand.

"Undyne, please, none of that language at the table," the large goat says smoothly but with a strong tone of authority. "Especially not around Frisk."

"Sorry, ma'am," she complies, receding her hand and spear.

You try to clear your throat of the uncooked intruder.

"W-what if it's the concussion destroying their swallowing reflex or their entire n-nervous system? M-maybe we should bring them d-down to the lab and do a check up," Alphys stammers out.

"No, I've decided to shut that place down, we have no use for it anymore."

The voice came from the far end of the table, filling the entire room. if not the entire house. The weight of it pushes Alphys down in her seat, tail in hand. You feel the weight as well and swallow instinctively. The noodle loosens up a bit.

"Asgore, I will not tolerate such harsh tones against people that just want to help," the other goat replies.

You swallow again, but this time you just drag one side down. It triggers yet another cough attack and interrupts Asgore before he can reply. Toriel shifts her face from stern to worry. She places a hand on the back of her chair for support, but you wave your hand aggressively to motion her to sit down. All eyes are now on you as you try to fight back the coughs. You take your glass and drink it all in one motion. You can feel the water rushing down your throat taking the unwieldy noodle with it. There is another round of coughs before you finally catch your breath. You breathe in. A loud burp surprises you and everyone around the table. It bounces around the room, and disappears into the kitchen utilizing the superior acoustic, before dying down in the hallway. The eyes fixate on you harder. A giggle saves the moment. It's the first sound you've heard from the child and it reminds you of...someone.

"Oh, yeah," you say awkwardly. "Sans, could you please pass the ketchup?"

The skeleton hands you the almost empty bottle, and you pour some on your food before handing it back. You manage two bites before the rest of the group continue with their respective food. You wish that the girdle was gone so you could sink into the ground.

Despite the literal hiccup you enjoy the rest of the lunch. It's nice to eat with people again and to hear the battle between metal and porcelain. For some it is quite the battle. Undyne tears into the spaghetti like she's racing to defuse a bomb at the bottom of the plate. Papyrus is similar, but instead of bomb defusing he's looking to beat the record of most food on a fork. Despite the heavy fork he still got some speed. Alphys is using a more somber approach and a pair of sticks instead of cutlery, weaving the spaghetti like a master seamstress, and catching the meat and tomatoes in a nest of tightly packed noodles. A screech of metal dragging against porcelain shifts your eyes to Frisk. Not bothered by the sound they shove their fork into the spaghetti and roll it twice before transporting it to their mouth. Their small cheeks bob up and down as they chew hard on the spaghetti. Before they thrust again they catch something with their eye. You follow where their eyes are looking. Asgore has managed to get some tomato sauce on his beard. Not really surprising, considering the amount of it. Like a band of yellow flowers on a snowy hill, his golden beard contrast with his otherwise white fur. Except the red stain of course. He doesn't seem to have noticed the ginger spot on his yellow river of hair, flowing in the gust from the window. Can he even see it?

Toriel can, it appears, as she is staring directly at it. Despite her eyes being focused somewhere else she stills cuts her food into precise amounts, and with almost zero movement from her upper arm, which is locked firmly against her side, she lifts the fork with three fingers and puts it into her mouth. You have to struggle to see the jaw moving as she chews. She then rolls back her shoulders, bringing her posture back to a right angle. You mimic the movement, and accidentally bump the fork of your neighbor. Before you can apologize you notice that it's not used. Instead, Sans is drinking deeply from the bottle of ketchup. You push your fork down for another bite, but you're greeted with a distinct clink. You're finished. You look around and see that it seems to be norm rather than the exception.

The table is more danced off rather than cleaned off as Papyrus scurries along the table, picking up glasses, plates, forks, and knifes with the skill and balance of a ballerina.

"Dessert anyone?" Toriel asks.

The table explodes with glee, including you.

"Very well then."

"Allow me Toriel," Asgore insists.

He stands up from his felted throne.

"I brought some Golden Flower tea for us to enjoy. Human, do you mind if I use your teakettle?" he asks you.

"Sure, but its an old cast iron pot and it will scratch the electric stove. You can use the fire stove, there should be some firewood next to it."

"Then I will use the fire stove, thank you."

He needs to duck down to enter the kitchen.

"Papyrus, join the others, let's do the dishes after," he informs the skeleton.

"AS THE KING COMMANDS, I SHALL OBEY AS THE ROYAL GUARD I AM!" Papyrus exclaims, leaving the half finished dishes in the sink.

"Um, Asgore? I'm not sure if I have any matches unfortunately," you shout into the kitchen and waking the skeleton next to you in the process.

"That will not be a problem," Asgore answers back. You hear him snapping his fingers and the sound of a small roaring fire emerges. It is soon followed by the crackling of burning bark.

"Now that we have some peace and quiet, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?" Toriel asks quietly, almost as she doesn't want Asgore to hear.

"Well, my name is-"

You're interrupted by a blue scaly hand covering your mouth. It smells like tomato and lotion.

"That's not fair, Toriel! We should wait until Asgore comes back. It would just be annoying for the human to repeat themselves when he returns."

"I suppose you're right Undyne. I apologize if I'm being annoying, human."

Her apology seems sincere enough. Undyne removes her hand and gives you a smile. Considering the food you've just eaten they're surprisingly clean. She then returns to her discussion with Alphys.

"But why would he replace his sword with such a smaller one? It doesn't fit his reach! With the previous one he could utilize a more defensive stance without sacrificing too much radius of his swing."

"Y-yes that is true, I think, but the new one has a greater capacity for his spirit power. He can use more spirit attacks with it."

"NGAAH, I got the best of both worlds right here," Undyne boasts while forming a thick spear.

The table is taken back by the sound of your teapot. A clean c sharp tone.

"Tea's ready!" Asgore shouts from the kitchen. His voice causes the glass cabinet behind you to shake.

"The pie is in the refrigerator, Asgore," Toriel shouts back.

You hear a fair amount of opening and closing of cupboards before you see a cape backing into the dining room. In his left hand is the steaming teakettle that's filling the room with a sweet and sour aroma. His right hands is filled up by two cups and a heightened serving platter with a glass container covering a brown circular pie. The remaining six cups are dangling from their finger rings, on his horns.

"Why didn't you ask me to come help you?" Toriel asks after a deep sigh.

"I wanted you to sit back and relax for a while," Asgore retorts while setting down the platter and kettle on the table.

"Well it didn't work, because now I'm afraid that you'll drop them all and cause more work for all of us."

Asgore bends down, tilting his head to one side slowly so that the cups on his left horns fall gently into Frisk's hands. Frisk then sends them down the table. Asgore then turns his head around to unload his other horn. Afterwards he sits down, and hands Frisk a cup while keeping the last for himself. Toriel fails to hide a smile, but Asgore is too busy easing himself into the now concave sofa. He addresses the table with a sweeping motion of his large hand.

"Since the last day has been pretty crazy I say we continue with that theme, and let the host have the first slice," he says and extends a hand towards you, smiling.

"So this new chapter of yours is breaking tradition?" Toriel replies, still trying to hide her smirk from before.

"It would seem so."

He lifts the pie towards you, setting it down in front of Sans. It stops there since Sans is asleep. You stretch yourself, grab it, and set it down between you and Undyne.

"I got it," she says. She lifts the glass cover and hovers a finger above the crust. Two fins of blue energy materialize around her finger, and she cuts the cake with them. She then turns her finger to the side, lifts up the piece, and transports it to your plate. You thank her, and turn to get the tea. She helps herself help herself to a slice, and passes the platter to Toriel while you pour tea into yours and Undyne's cup. You then bring the kettle into Toriel's reach. The platter is now at Alphys, and she seems to have a bit of a problem getting through the pie with her knife. Undyne offers her help again. A long, thin spear appears around her long and first finger and, with pinpoint accuracy, she lowers it upon the cake, slicing it without hustle.

"T-thank you Undyne. You're the best," Alphys stammers out.

"Of course I am," Undyne replies with a huge smile.

The platter goes through Frisk, Papyrus, and lastly to Asgore. He glances at Sans before dividing what's left into two and handing one over to Sans. As he finishes pouring his tea he lifts his cup up. Everyone still awake mimics.

"As this is a human house we will practice our new chapter and embrace a new tradition, a human tradition. The toast. Cheers to you Papyrus, thank you for doing your duty in bringing us this wonderful food."

Papyrus blushes. How even?

"Cheers to you, Alphys, thank you for your hard work in keeping the CORE up and running."

She also blushes.

"Cheers to you Undyne, thank you for your continuing work as my Royal Guard."

More red cheeks.

"Cheers to you Sans, for, eh, hm."

Asgore stops to think.

"FOR BEING THE BESTEST BROTHER ONE COULD HAVE!" Papyrus proposes.

"For being the bestest brother one could have," Asgore repeats.

Sans lifts his glass but keeps his eyes closed.

"Cheers to you Toriel. Thank you for...understanding."

"Not yet Asgore, sorry," she says while looking away from him.

"Then, cheers to you understanding, in the future."

"I wish to, Asgore. I really do."

Her eyes meets his.

"And to finish off with a double. Cheers to you two humans, for giving us monsters back our hopes," he finishes with his tone back up.

"Cheers," you reply, and savor the exotic tea.

The rest of the table follows, including Sans. A dance of sweet and sour engulfs your tongue as it touches the first drop. They alter strengths as the liquid rolls deeper, sweet taking the lead for the first half and sour leading for the second. As the water disappears into your throat they take a bow and return to their respective corners of your tongue. You breathe a small stream of steam from your nose. You pray that the pie is as good as the tea and cut of a corner.

It's quite chewy. A clashing battle between salt and sweetness commences, juxtaposing the calm dance of the tea. As you chew you feel a cold piece in the center of the salt. The pie must have been in the freezer for a while. The cold also clashes with the warmth from the tea leaving your mouth with a pleasing lukewarm temperature. The monsters sure do like their opposing forces. You realize that it's not just their cooking, it's their relationships as well. Papyrus and Sans, blue and red, tall and short. Alphys and Undyne, well, with the amount of times Alphys appears to be blushing they could also be red and blue. If not that then their personalities do strike you as being on opposing sides of the spectrum, and anime appears to be the place where left and right become center. You ponder as to how Asgore and Toriel fits into your hypothesis, but can't for the life of you find a strong base argument like the other pairs. They look alike. Maybe they're together? Perhaps it could be as simple as their cooking. You go with that for now.

You feel like you deserve an award for that genius theory, and greedily push your knife into your dessert. Something obstructs your path to another, literal, mouthwatering experience. You put more weight into the blade, and it budges through. It also releases a surprising sound, and a crack. Perplexed you stick your fork in and turn the now exposed side to you. Your tongue twist in utter confusion, your stomach is quickly informed and rumbles at the thought of processing that which you've seen.

"A snail?" you say out loud.

Too loud.


	5. Snails, why did it have to be snails?

"Is something the matter?" Toriel asks, halting her fork in front of her face.

You feel the weight of everyone's eyes.

"No, yeah, I mean, snails," you stammer back.

The table starts resonating mildly.

"You didn't get one? That's unfortunate," she says with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"I-I think I have two in mine. You could take one," Alphys chips in while examining her piece.

"No, I got one it's just that, it's a snail," you say, shock still present throughout the sentence.

"But, Frisk told me that snails are commonplace in your cooking," she replies with a quizzical look.

The shaking of the table turns into a rumbling, and you spot the source. Asgore is leaning on his elbows, and those are acting as conductors of the tremble. His hands are desperately trying to cover his bobbing head, and muffled wheezes can be heard escaping his grasp.

"Asgore, you told me as well." Toriel moves her hand towards you. "After you had talked with the human leaders, remember?"

A smile bigger than you've ever seen emerges from behind Asgore's hands. "No, I don't, Toriel. Please, refresh my memory," he says with a voice that's on the brink of bursting into laughter.

"You said that I need to take these human snail recipes with a grain of salt, so I did."

Asgore's voice once again fills the entire room, this time with the sound of a roaring laughter. The house seems to be in on the joke, as it shakes almost as much as he does. His wide open eyes are filled tears, falling and blackening the felted sofa leaving huge puddles on it. Toriel's eyes are almost shut, leaving just two slits staring. Asgore is lucky that he's wearing armor or her gaze would burn right through him.

Speaking of burn, you're feeling the entire room heating up. Has the fire stove lived up to its name? No, the kitchen looks to have the same white color as always. Is his laughing causing so much movement that the house is warming up through pure friction? No, that's just stupid. Your pondering leaves no clear answer until you see the familiar orange glow of an open blaze on the edge of your right eye. Oh no! The fireplace in the living room has rebelled. As you turn to assess the situation you discover that the heat of the problem is not an unruly chimney, but that an opaque and orange ball that's forming in Toriel's hand. Asgore's laugh finally dies down, and he puts a hand back on his mouth uttering a final puff of air out of his nose. The glow dies down.

"Oh, Toriel. I thought that you asked me that as a joke, to relieve me of some stress. I didn't-" He interrupts himself with a loud snicker. "Did Frisk tell you about the snails? The human leaders said that, yes, there are some applications, but they are mostly in local dishes in another country," he continues.

"But why would Frisk do that?" Toriel wonders out loud, looking at the small human. Frisk is stuck between laughing because of Asgore, and feeling deeply ashamed because of Toriel, and can't produce an answer.

"I'm sure Frisk had good intentions," Asgore cheerfully declare. "That reminds me. Human, your leaders have provided some houses for us to live in. For a nominal fee of course, but that's understandable. I can't expect everyone to be as nice as you and Frisk. We will spend the night here but we will be out of your hair tomorrow. So if there is any questions you have I'll try answer them to the best of my abilities. Because, tomorrow and going forward we will be pretty busy preparing for the rest of the monsters."

You nod and strengthen yourself with another sip of tea. It has become a bit cooler, but you still feel the tango on your taste buds.

"I'm pretty sure that there was something about a barrier separating the humans from, eh, you. Was that true or?" you ask while trying to sound as confident as possible.

"Yes, a long time ago there was a great war between our people. The politics and cause surrounding it forgotten to both us and you, if your leaders are to be believed. The barrier was erected by the winning party."

"That being the humans," Undyne whispers loudly into your ear.

"Yes, Undyne, thank you," Asgore continues. "And with the help of Frisk here, we we're able to break the barrier and bask in our collective sun once again."

"WHAT ABOUT THE?" Papyrus adds but is interrupted by Frisk tapping on his shoulder and putting a finger on their own lips.

"As Papyrus is saying, there are details I'm skipping, but they would just bore you. Believe me," Asgore says with a smile.

"Are you sure about that?" you retort with arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

"I'm just assuming that you don't want to sit through an hour long lecture about how the bureaucracy of passing a notion about a hearing about whether or not we should harness geothermal energy," he says in one breath counting each mention on his fingers. "And that would just be the start of the long list of, from the top of my head, a hundred different lectures I would have to give you before you could understand the situation of whether or not we should kill all the humans once we return."

"And to what conclusion did you come to?" you wonder as you cower a bit before the notion.

"No, there's been enough death between our people, and it's easier to relocate without swords and arrows in our heads. Let's switch subject, as I'm sure we'd all like to. Is there something else you would like to know?"

"Um, how about our food? Can you even eat it, I mean, I seem to be able to eat yours."

"To an extent," you add in your head.

"Our cuisine is mostly based on that which has been seeping through the cracks of the mountain. There was not much to prepare in the underground. Seeds, potatoes, and the occasional cookbook did find their way shortly after we were imprisoned. There are some plants that we use that are native to the underground, but I don't think it would be a problem. The years we lived together vastly outnumbered the time we spent locked away, and you seem to be able to eat Papyrus' famous spaghetti."

"lucky for you we had frisk to experiment on," Sans quips, taking the table by surprise. He opens one eye to look at Frisk, is met by an extended tongue, and then promptly returns to sleep.

"So I hope that you'll join our cook off in the future. Seeing as humans value eating together I'm thinking we should have a sort of recipe swap. We need to adapt our cooking back to the Surface again, and I'm sure your people would enjoy some new ingredients to play around with."

Asgore gives a look to Toriel and is immediately shot down by her frown.

"You said that you bought some houses, or something? Aren't they too small? I mean, my house is one of the biggest in town, and you still don't fit."

"Yes, I will compensate you for your doorway and this sofa don't you worry."

Asgore looks a bit ashamed saying that.

"It's not really what I meantm but I appreciate it anyway," you reassure.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"It's not really a big deal, we've been saving for almost a thousand years for this moment," Undyne whispers again, still a bit too loud.

"Yes, we do have quite the capital to build us, a capital," Asgore pauses to reflect on what he just said.

"and here i was doubting why you we're our king Asgore, but that pun was really, rich," Sans says while winking with one eye.

"SANS, THE KING DIDN'T REALLY MEAN TO SAY THAT AND YOU KNOW IT!" Papyrus yells, jaw and arms flailing as he speaks.

"me, mocking the royal figurehead of the monsters? i think that deserves, capital punishment."

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Papyrus screams in defeat and clutches his head.

"That's enough, Sans," Asgore says, authority lingering behind a soothing veil. "I do plan for us to build a city, but the placement must be discussed so that it won't be intrusive to the already established cities. It must also have good resources and place to grow. Again, that's in the future, and for now I think we will be happy living in a smaller town like this one. Who knows, we might build our capital right here."

You find yourself intrigued by the idea. Skeptical, but still intrigued.

"Speaking of fitting in with society, how about education? There is a couple of elementary and high schools in town, and I can vouch for them, but I don't think they have the capacity. The nearest big city is two hours away."

"I want to build one as soon as I can."

Your right ear spring into function, having been neglected for a while, as Toriel speaks. Joy and glee planted firmly in her voice.

"I've always wanted to be a teacher, and now that I have the chance I won't waste it. Of course there will be room for humans, I don't want education to be another barrier between us."

"and the queen proves to be a worthy co-ruler," Sans says, overly satisfied with his performance.

You feel a tingling in your right leg and look down to see the faintest outline of a spear. You look up and meet Undyne with her head in her other hand. She has an annoyed look that goes straight through you, and presumably onto Sans. She refocuses onto you when she sees the movement of your eyebrow raising. The tingling in your leg disappears, and she gives you a lesser smile. Toriel recovers from Sans quibble.

"The problem is that, the longer I wait with beginning their education, the more difficult it will be for them to fit in I fear. You wouldn't happen to know anything that could help me?" she asks with her eyes and burdens pointed at you.

"Did they mention the town hall? As far as I know it's not in regular use. It's mostly for public holidays and such, but that wouldn't clash with your school."

"That's a really good idea, thank you."

You turn to Frisk.

"Sorry."

A cold shoulder is all you get.

"Any good teachers?" Toriel follows up.

"None that I'm aware of. Everyone I know are working at the schools in town," you answer.

"Can't Alphys help?" Asgore reenters into the conversation after a long battle to convince Papyrus that no, he won't execute Sans.

"M-m-me? You're putting the future of our kids intellect on m-me?" Alphys stammers back, tail firmly grasped.

"You we're, and still are, our royal scientist Alphys, and our kids deserve the best," Asgore replies.

Toriel crosses her arms and gives Asgore another stern look. He doesn't see it as he is looking at Alphys.

"B-b-ut what about the program? It's a monumental task and to juggle that with the pressure of being a teacher."

She starts hyperventilating.

"Alphee, you're gonna do just fine, look at me," Undyne commands in a soft voice. "You're gonna teach the kids all about science, and you're gonna fix that CORE right up! You understand?"

"Y-y-yes, and no. I-I don't know. Can't I just work on the integration only?" she stammers back but with a more normal breathing rhythm.

You figure that this is as good as a segue you'll get and lean your head over the table. "What about me? I have some experience in both. I could help Alphys with whatever project you have on one day and teach the kids the other. It could also attract more humans to your school if they see a human teaching there," you propose.

"Hm, tell you what human," Asgore ponders, his hand burrowed in his golden beard. "You start working on your credentials. We will start working on starting our respective projects and then you can send in an application to us. These are not jobs I'm comfortable throwing at whoever. No offense. Know this though," his smile returns, reassuring as ever, "you have contacts with monsters high up."

You catch an unfamiliar tune originating from Asgore. He picks up a phone from a pocket in his mantle.

"Time flies, doesn't it? A week ago I was dreaming of what I would say to your leaders when, if, I would return up to the surface, and lo and behold," he pushes a button and the ringing stops. "I'm running late to that very scenario. Now, human, If I return after you've fallen asleep."

He stands up, the sound of hundred springs being relieved of duty following him up, and extends a hand towards you. You get up from your chair, legs complaining for more rest, and take his hand. The grip is very firm but in a fit like a glove kind of firm. The only strange part being having contact with skin on one finger and fur on another.

"Thank you again for the use of your house and food," Asgore thanks while bowing his head.

"The pleasure is all mine," you reply, surprised over the amount of sincerity you mean.

He releases your hand, waves to the rest of the table, and bends down into the kitchen.

You manage your way back to your seat before you hear the recurring sound of wood against horn. Two sighs, one coming from the hallway, and the other coming from the other end of the table, can be heard before the sound of the front door closing.

"If everyone is finished with their tea I will continue with the dishes," Toriel says after she releases her forehead.

You swallow the rest of your tea, even after cooling down it still packs quite the performance, and shift yourself to the rest of your... Oh, you forgot all about it. You see the other side of the table sending their plates down towards Toriel, and you hear Undyne doing the same thing. Not wanting to squander your new found job prospects you imagine the shell as a biscuit instead, and the animal part being the filling. It's a flimsy disguise, but it would have to do!

You stick your fork into the filling, and bite down on the biscuit. It's quite salty, and you regret finishing your tea first. You chew with the speed and rhythm of a turbocharged engine. It goes down, for some magical reason it goes down. Hopefully it will stay that way. You finish the rest of the crumbs, and bring your plate and mug into the kitchen. A motherly figure stands over the sink, cleaning plate after plate with care and grace. You recognize the sight and welcome it.

"I've sent Undyne outside to fix the grass," she says, accepting your plate and cup into her domain of soap and bubbles. You hear grunts and screams of damnation with the occasional insults towards plant based life from outside the open window.

"Papyrus offered to help you clean. I think he said that he would start upstairs so that the dirt would be scared down where it could only choose to either leave or be forced to leave by the hand of the great Papyrus!" She mimics his voice at the end causing you to chuckle at the absurdity of the two voices mixed together.

"What about Frisk and Sans?" you ask while moving over to her left and start drying the dishes.

"You don't need to do that, my dear."

"I want to, and besides, you don't know where to put it afterwards," you explain as you grab another plate from her.

"Well, Frisk is probably in the living room, doing their homework. Sans is, probably asleep somewhere."

"He do that often?" you say while drying the teapot. Even after being washed it still smells like the tea.

"I don't know, I've not known him for too long. Well, in a way I have, but not in person."

Another elaborate threat about petals and the removing of them enters the dining room window. You also hear threats about surrendering to the great Papyrus or else things will suck. You think you hear a faint chuckle followed by a very clear NYEEEH. You finish wiping the cooking pot. It has the same lemony smell as the rest of the dishes. You guess it's because of the tea.

"So, queen of the underground?" you pry while polishing a glass.

You hear another one break.

"Ex queen, I'm afraid I must correct you on that," she replies, covering her hand with the other. A green light shines between them.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have been nosy," you wring the towel in your hand awkwardly, like Alphys does.

"Apology accepted, and I will give you one back for letting my emotions get the best of me."

"You mean the glass? Don't think about it."

You smile and get one in return. The two of you both return to the dishes.

The rest of the chore continues in silence, well, from you and Toriel at least. Really, with the sound of clinking porcelain, Undyne's maniacal laughter, and the sound of the vacuum upstairs, it is quite an earful. When you're done you hear the patio door open up and Undyne steps in. Sweat and grass covers her body, and a blue scythe dissipates from her hand as she enters.

"Mind if I use your shower again?"

"Would I have to fight you if I said no?" you ask while putting the dishes back in their respective cupboard.

"If it meant that I could use it after I defeat you, yes."

"Then I don't mind you using my shower, again."

"I will make you fight me sometime, you know that. It's what friends do," she tries to convince while flexing.

You tap your head.

"Can't, doctor's order."

"She is not a doctor, she's a scientist."

"She is wearing a coat, good enough for me. Now are you just gonna stand there and create more work for Papyrus or are you gonna use the shower? Or do you just use it without asking first?"

A good laugh can be heard from both of you before Undyne wanders off to freshen up. As she nears the stairs you hear another pair of footsteps coming from the other way as Alphys enters.

"F-frisk is almost done with their homework. C-could we get some water?"

You fill a two bottles with water and hand them to her. She grabs them and meanders back into the living room. You catch Toriel standing on the patio.

"It's better than I remembered," she says before taking a deep breath. The gentle wind tugs at her large ears and flowing robe.

You follow her example and fill your lungs with the smell of freshly cut grass. You've missed it too. The lawn is in a perfect and uniform height. Undyne sure does deserve that shower. She's also collected the excess into a big pile in the corner. If the wind keeps somewhat still it would burn rather nicely. You ask Toriel if she wouldn't mind igniting it.

"It's OK. I'm sure I've convinced myself that magic is real, or perhaps the concussion has taken away my fight or flight response. Either way, I don't think I will scream in fear as you conjure up a nice big flame," you jokingly explain.

It seems to work as she start making her way towards the pile.

"Just to be sure," you stop her. "There should be a bucket near the barrel under the drainpipe. Just make a circle of water around the fire. I'll be right back, just gonna grab some stuff."

You leave her in the sun and make pace towards the hallway. You open up the key cabinet and fetch a pair of keys hanging on a small plastic lawnmower. As you turn around you spot the real reason you excused yourself. You lean into the living room and stretch an arm towards the upper shelf. You retrieve a pair of overly large sunglasses, bought as a joke gift and worn without the slightest sense of care. You apologize to Alphys and Frisk for interrupting, and inform them that they're more than welcome to join you and Toriel, and if they see the rest, the more the merrier.

With glasses and keys in hand you return outside. Toriel is kneeling down with the bucket next to her. She is hovering her hand above the base of the pile, and you can see smoke rise from it. You set the sunglasses on the wooden railing and steer yourself to the shed in the corner beside the now growing pyre. The air inside is stale, but dry, which is good as there's no mold on the pillows for the deck chairs. You start moving the chairs and pillows towards the patio. Toriel offers her help, and you gladly accept it. As you make your first trip she asks about the sunglasses.

"They are not really my size so I thought that they might fit you."

"How sweet of you," she says, trying them on.

They seem to fit quite nicely.

"I thought that after a thousand years underground the sun might sting a bit."

"It does, thank you."

You unfold the chairs and fill them with the pillows and return with Toriel to the shed to extract the wooden sofa. You return with it to see that Frisk and Alphys has finished Frisk's homework and are now sitting and taking in the warmth of the sun. They both chuckle, Alphys a little more nervously than Frisk, as they see Toriels accessorized visage. An eyebrow rises up from behind the darkened glass and they both stop. The sofa is placed and stuffed with pillows. It complains a bit as she sits down but appears to handle the weight. After the fire becomes a blaze you're joined by Papyrus and Undyne. Undyne drags her chair next to Alphys and Papyrus drags his next to Frisk.

"YOUR HOUSE IS NOW CLEAN HUMAN! I THANK YOU FOR DOING THE GROUND FLOOR!"

"I didn't," you reply.

"i did," Sans says, sitting next to Frisk.

Papyrus voice must have masked him.

"THAT'S VERY NICE OF YOU SANS!"

You thank Sans and return your eyes to the fire. There's something pleasantly primitive about just looking at the flames. You wonder if your ancestor and the monsters ancestors did the same thing, huddling in caves, just looking at fires together in peace. Sans snores reminds you that you're tired and you wager that's safe for you to rest your eyes for a bit.

You pull the lever on your side and lean back, one arm over your eyes. You hear the others struggle with the technique before hearing their chairs lock in position. You're among friends, yesterday you were alone but now you're surrounded by people you feel like you're gonna care about. It's been a long time coming. You exhale a pleased sigh and drift to sleep.


	6. At least it's made from recycled material

You take a sip of tea and bend down to pick up today's paper. It feels to good to have some mobility in your knees again. It's not like you enjoy reading it, but it's free and it suffices as white noise in the morning, shaving away a half hour or so off of your morning. However, that was two days ago. Now you're curios as how the town will react to all this monster business.

"Legends walk among us!" screams the headline. It's taking up half of the first page over a photo of Asgore and Toriel entering the mayor's building. "More on page 2 to 20!" is tucked in the bottom right corner. You're not surprised over how many pages there are dedicated to, arguably, the biggest news story on the century, if not the millennium.

You make your way back to the kitchen while skimming the first page. It's mostly reactions from everyday citizens.

"They abducted my husband!"

"Ate my livestock!"

"They will steal our job!"

"Build a wall!"

The usual suspects. It's no wonder the majority of people under thirty left as soon as they could from this city.

You put down the paper on the sink and weigh it down by a bowl so that the breeze from the open kitchen window doesn't blow it away. From the refrigerator you retrieve some milk. It shakes too easily, and you remind yourself to add it to the shopping list. You can't even drown a fly in the puddle it leaves in the bowl, and you rip open the top to see if maybe you could-

No, it's completely empty. You fold it and toss it into the garbage. The amount of cereal covering the milk can be counted on one hand, and you realize that you must look for more food. Dry cereal or frozen snail pie? You'd rather not choose. You take a look outside and pick up your breakfast. The newspaper feels heavier than the bowl.

You open the patio door with your now functioning knee and leave it open. The sound of birds chirping and the smell of morning dew reminds you that's been some time since you've been awake this early. It's only nine in the morning.

You arrange the paper, tea and, bowl on the patio table. You open the trunk containing the pillows and fill a chair. You make yourself comfortable with a view of the now blackened corner of your lawn. Turns out it wasn't safe to take a nap while an unsupervised fire rages in your backyard. Who would've thunk? Luckily Toriel's ring of water had prevented it from growing towards the house. The other way, however, was the complete opposite. You make you way towards the charred grass and examine it.

The fire scorched only one side of the old apple tree that was in the unfortunate way, and you don't know if it will recover. You feel a bit sad thinking about having to cut it down before you spot two small fruits hanging on the other side. Not really store fruit, but it doesn't matter to you. As you make it back to the patio with one apple in hand and another in your mouth you almost trip over the extended hose laying across the grass. Your toenail rips another hole in the old dried up rubber. You chuckle as you remember the panic you had yesterday when you realized that the tree was on fire.

Undyne charged at it first, swinging a spear, and demanding the fire to retreat back to the pile where it belonged. She fought it for a good minute while you mumbled swear words at the knots constricting the water in the hose you retrieved from the shed. The holes that were present were being plugged by Papyrus and Frisk, both being surprisingly agile for their respective bodies, as they almost made knots of themselves trying to plug new holes that were forming because of the water pressure building up. After a short battle with the fire Undyne then stumbled backwards and fell face first into the grass.

"I respect an opponent that still can fight even after being cut up into thousands of little pieces. Good fight, grass!" she said with her finger pressed against the ground before passing out.

Alphys, who was just biting her nails before came rushing towards Undyne, and pulled her away from the fire. "S-s-she's dehydrated, we need water!" she shouted at you, panic and fear filling her voice.

"Could it please not knot itself like this?" you retorted, not against Alphys or anyone else for that matter. You just, retorted. "How can it even be like this?" you had continued, staring at something not even a lifetime scout could have made.

You could feel the pressure of the situation, and the water, splashing against your neck. The hose had burst and started flailing wildly against you, Papyrus, and Frisk. You tried to grab it, but like a snake mounted on the end of an arm of someone who is deathly afraid of snakes you couldn't predict the movement to get a grip. To top it all of you were startled by the sound of metal being ripped off.

"Out of the way!" Toriel screamed while holding the barrel of rainwater like a battering ram. She made short work of the distance between her and the bonfire, and lunged the rusty water at it. An aggressive fire had been doused by an even angrier goat with a barrel of rain.

With the fire now under control you attacked the hose, tackling it the ground, and finally you managed to get control over it. You stretched it as far as you dared and angled it upward. The beam of water fell down hard on Undyne. She jolted up, coughing and spitting. She looked around to find you standing there, hose in hand, and sprinkles of water emerging from the holes behind you. She wiped her face.

"Told you water would work on me," she said with a relieved smile. A few moments passed before you all burst into laughter.

"smells delicious," Sans had said, commenting on the vague aroma of roasted apple hanging in the air.

"Roasted fruit goes well with grilled fis-" you had stopped yourself in the nick of time.

"goes well with what?" Sans had then pried, eyes now open and locked on you.

"F-f-fried, potato! Yes, it's yummy yummy," you assured, feeling sweat form on your forehead. Your gaze betrayed you as it kept tearing itself towards Undyne. Sans caught on.

"luckily it seems that you wash your potatoes. but why, as a sign of goodwill?"

Despite his lack of, you could feel his eyebrow rise.

"I always treat my potatoes with the respect they deserve," you spat back, a little too loud.

"so if you get a potato that, i don't know, struggle, against your vision to create this delicious meal, what would you do with it?" his gaze had hardened on you.

"First one to the knife," you replied with a smile. Your effort to speak his language, jokes, to try to diffuse the situation had backfired like the sizzling pile of half dried grass behind you. An empty vacuum of hate had replaced the calm darkness of his sockets, and it was all on you. His grip hardened on the chair. Again Frisk interrupted, tugging his jacket with all their weight. They did manage to rip Sans stare from you and pointed inside with a serious finger.

"excuse us," Sans said and followed Frisk into the house.

"DON'T MIND HIM HUMAN, THE ONLY FRIED POTATO HE LIKES IS GRILLBY'S FRIES!" Papyrus proclaimed, a less serious finger held high in his mitten.

"Yeah, sure," you had answered back.

You're jolted back to the present by your toe hitting the threshold between grass and the cement on the patio. A muffled curse and a stumble later you land back in your chair. You bend over and brush off the bruised apple you dropped and take another bite.

The newspaper makes a satisfying sound as you whip it open on page two. An even blurrier picture of Asgore and Toriel, or two other giant white creatures, is staring you in the face. Around it is a flaming border and big bold text saying that Satan has come back, and he's brought the end times with him. You're a bit proud that it took a concussion and dehydration before you started madly rambling instead of it being your default state of mind.

You see that the page is sponsored by your local pastor, the one that claimed that your families death was just, and that he had foretold it. You look at the page after it, see that it's a continuation of the one before, rip it out, and walk back to the coals. You pick up the rake and poke around until you see a small pocket of embers.

"Where trash belongs," you say out loud.

The ripped page crumples as if in pain and is soon engulfed. You picture the pastor doing the same thing and you feel a little better inside. You pour some water from the bucket on the embers and return to your chair. The next page is a statement from the mayor. Comparing Asgore's story to this one is like comparing apples and oranges. You take another bite of the apple you have.

This must be the work of the editor. Threats of violence. Call for a militia. Call for secrecy so that the snoopy government don't come and poke around. You don't believe a single waste of ink that they call words. Not like you needed more proof that you should stop reading this mad rambling of a newspaper. The mayor can be trusted with a pen, he was one of the few that helped you keep the house and therefore he is not a moron. His stamp is one of the few things keeping you here.

You fold the paper to get a finger on the next page and you're momentarily blinded by the sun. You blink to find yourself with the most magnificent of sights. Across both the pages is a crude and poorly edited photo of your town covered in various pictures of monster. Some still have their watermarks on them from wherever the newspaper stole them from. The sky is replaced with what seems to be stretched out blood, and the sun is a crying baby's face.

You feel your eyes widen as you keep finding more and more in this bless of a mess. There is a monster from a famous children's book with an axe from an old adventure series chasing a cartoon man from an info graphic. There is a pile of moss with angry eyes raising a flag depicting Asgore's blurred profile with a black crown drawn out of proportion and perspective on his head. Your eyes dart back and forth and you feel your grin grow as time passes. You catch a glimpse of a stick figure holding an assault rifle with its thumb.

You settle your darting eyes on your own house. It's been awkwardly clipped due to the crop of the picture so you can only spot the upper right part. You feel somewhat disappointed, but come to the conclusion that it wouldn't do you any favors if you call in and tell them your story in hope that they would add something to your home. There's some text below the picture. You figure it's not important since nothing can describe this work of art. You ponder for a while as to how you could get your hands on the source picture. You want this mounted over the fireplace.

You slurp up your cereal and turn to the next page. It's an ad. Good prices on milk and bread at the local store. You keep that in mind. The next one is another article. This one describes different ways to make your house monster proof.

Step one, arm yourself. You wonder if there's monsters with more arms than a normal human. But wouldn't a human with three arms or more be a monster? If so then this step would be interesting to see in action.

Step two, stock up. On the necessities you assume. Wouldn't want to run out of food in the middle of a monster siege. You might resort to Papyrus' spaghetti or get fed water by a fish on dry land. Toilet paper would also be necessary. You can't wipe yourself with this article since the bullshit would just replace your own. You make a gun with your fingers.

"Got them," you say with a smirk. Speaking of that, do monsters poop? Do they use their magic to- Images flash before you, and you quickly read the next step to replace them.

Step three, take care of your family. You lower the newspaper and blink. Damn...

Step four, barricade your home. You glance off to the rainwater barrel. Its bent up metal fastenings hangs crooked from Toriel's strength. The panel it was stuck too is a different hue of red than the rest. Holes and scratches from the nails dot it and it's hanging a decimeter from the wall. You add planks, nails, and a new paintbrush to your list. No arguments with this step. It's right on the money.

Step five, be prepared. Don't panic and bounce your head against stalagmites at the first sight of the monster. Use your multiple arms and join them instead. Really, how do you prepare for something that can blast fire from one hand and form spears with another? A gun, you conclude.

Step six, don't open for anyone. You remember the dining room window and update your list while taking a sip of tea. The sun is keeping it somewhat warm. A familiar play occupies your mouth, and you slosh it around for a while before swallowing it.

Step seven, survive. Well that's a given. Don't really need a step for that, it's literally programmed into your genes.

The list closes with a note saying that you should cut it out and put it somewhere clearly visible. A picture of a man in a suit with arms crossed and stern look proclaims himself as the author. You name him Mister Lister. A bird lands on the railing in front of you. You bend down the newspaper, give it a smile, and continue to the next page.

"How to tell if your neighbor is harboring monsters."

Look for the smell of half cooked food and increasing use of the shower. Four times yesterday, but, maybe that's because she's a fish and fish needs water, or the fact that she's really into exercising. Exercising her right to use your shower that is! Morning shower, midday workout shower, covered in soot shower, and finally, evening workout shower. You add showering gel and a new bathing sponge to the list.

Step one. Another list? Come on! Be aware of increased movement. You skim the rest of it because they're not really advice you would call necessary. You extract more joy from the pictures describing the different steps. Still the same inconsistency of color and art style as the million dollar painting a few pages back.

At the bottom you see Mister Lister again. The poor overworked man is still standing there with shoulders back and arms over each other. His pride and complete dedication to his craft is reflecting in his eyes. The gray stripes in his slick backed hair shows that he's been in the list making business the longest and knows it inside out. He never tires from making another list! God bless you, Mister Lister! You praise yourself for giving him such a relevant name.

Page ten is another ad. Come one come all, the circus is coming to town. You wonder if your new friends would enjoy it. It's not like there are monsters there. Maybe the fire stunts will seem mundane to them, but the acrobatics are always breathtaking. You picture Toriel juggling fireballs and Undyne hitting them midair making them explode in a thousand colors. Maybe the circus is hiring? You save the date and continue.

Another page, another article about monsters representing the fall of humanity. Mister Lister's sister is continuing the family trade and brings her article about how the monsters will disrupt the world famous tourism of your sleepy little town. Backing her up is a slew of numbers. No meaning or cohesive application, just, numbers.

A couple of percents there, a couple of minuses here, and a big fat bar graph in the middle. Like a layer of brick inside a cake, or a frozen snail inside of a pie, it separates the text, boasting with its multiple colors and descending order.

"Predicted income of tourism after monsters," it reads. Predicted by who? The bars don't just descend in height, they descent in width as well. You're infuriated by the sheer lack of ignorance to proper presentation. You examine the sources for whoever they consulted with to get this information. Nothing, no sources. Figures.

You consult yourself. The majority of people traveling to your town do so to see the mountain and discuss the legend it has. The mountain overshadows your town both literally and metaphorically. A picture of a dark skinned woman stand in the corner of the page with her suit and glasses. Miss. Can't Make A Proper Bar Graph.

A familiar face greets you on the next page. The tale of Mister Lister reaches a trilogy with his magnum opus.

"Top ten monsters we don't want taking our jobs!"

It's just a bunch of pictures with a job title over it. Large monsters for heavy lifting, big headed monsters for accounting, fat monsters for garbage disposal. Again, no job is too small or too big for Mister Lister.

You chew the rest of your first apple and throw it over your fence. Another sip of tea, another jig in your mouth. It tickles a bit with the flesh of the apple you're still chewing.

You flip the page. Next is an article spouting vague warnings about housing shortage. It's riddled with spelling errors and you give up halfway. You flip again. The rest of the monster special is just ads. Guns, military rations, sand, and other building materials.

The sport pages are uncontaminated by monsters and you see that the local sports team is advancing to a higher league, both in football, and in football. You pump your fist in the air as support. You turn to the last page and to your delight the comics are still there. They are bought in from some comic syndicate and are therefore not polluted by the idiocy of your town. You laugh at a joke about an elephant and a rotary phone.

No more pages left to read, so you fold the newspaper in half and finish your tea. You take the remaining apple and carry it in your mouth inside. As you enter you shut the door with your foot and make your way to the sink. The water takes some time to heat up. In the meantime you look for a place to put the newspaper.

You peek your shoulder into the dining room and throw it on the table. The water is now warm and you clean your dishes before return them to their respective cupboards. With the apple in one hand and your phone in your other you browse today's agenda. First thing to do is to clean the oven. You almost drop your apple as you let out a snicker. Mister Lister have been working for you without your knowledge.

You turn around and open the oven door. A burnt form with a charred piece of meat was meant to be dinner for you yesterday A gift from Papyrus. You jerk and twist it to release it from the charred coal that was formed underneath the form. The overflown meat crack as you lift it. You bang it upside down on the sink.

Nothing.

You bang it harder.

Still nothing.

You take it outside and smash it against the patio floor.

The lump breaks into black and brittle pieces.

You grab a broom and a dustpan to sweep it up. You can spot some straws of spaghetti that seem hard enough to kill a person. As you toss it into the trashcan you wonder how it would have tasted if the monsters had remembered to tell you that it was in the oven before they left. The form goes in the dishwater with a pleasant splash. You bend down and open the lower cupboards to take some cleaning supplies. With them you start cleaning the oven. Fifteen minutes later it's like new. Less can be said for your hands. The form also takes some nail scraping to satisfy you. It makes a pleasant sound as you wipe it one last time. You empty the dishwater and make your way towards the front door, but you stop when you spot a surprisingly large amount of cash on the hallway table.

"This should cover room, food, and repairs and a little extra for the hospitality," signed Toriel.

You flip the card.

"TOLD YOU, HUMAN! THERE'S NO TALKING YOUR WAY OUT OF BEING THANKED!" signed The Great Papyrus. A smiling skeleton is crudely drawn.

Your finger takes some time flipping through the bundled cash. If they're comfortable paying this much for such a small thing imagine the savings they have. You imagine Asgore sitting on a huge pile of gold and stroking his beard. The image pleases you. You pocket half of it, take your keys and leave for the store.


	7. The pinnacle of human engineering

"We regret to inform our customers that a maximum of five of an item can be bought per family. We apologize for the inconvenience, and wish our customers happy shopping," the speaker informs, filling the crowded general store.

Several irritated voices can be heard around you as you open your list again. Milk and bread, from the newspaper. Potatoes and vegetables. Chicken and meat. You make a quick survey of your cart and conclude that the food is done. You wonder how you'll get the planks in, the cart is getting pretty full.

Two people are fighting about the last can of pineapple. The queue for the cash registries stretch for several aisles. There's a lot of annoyed feet tapping and equally annoyed arms crossed.

As you make your way through the aisles you overhear some conversations about a new friend of yours. Undyne has been spotted spotting people at the local gym. Apparently having a bi pedaled fish with a huge grin looming over you helps you push yourself more. You can testify for that. It sounds like they were hesitant at first, but soon they understood that she was just there for the same reason they were, to work out.

"Man, she's something alright," says one.

"She almost screams as much as you do," replies the other one, bumping his friend on the shoulder. The punch would've given you quite the bruise.

"Did you see the way she just destroyed your record? How does her body even support that?"

"Who didn't? Her NYAAAH or whatever made everyone drop their routine and just watch. Dibs on her spotting me next time."

"If someone breaks another one's record they're supposed to help break theirs. She's with me. Gym rule," the first one replies with punch of their own.

"With the amount of sweat you broke getting there the gym will be flooded if you try to break hers. Maybe then you can break it since the water will make the weights lighter."

"At least she'll feel like home."

"Let's just hope that she's a saltwater fish."

Laughs are heard, some from you. You wonder if it would be a good idea to start working out. Having Undyne as a personal trainer you would bench press a car in no time. Perhaps you should suggest her to apply for that.

Aisle 30, paint and accessories. A variety of colors and brush sizes surround you. You try to remember your father's advice and start searching for the appropriate bristles and hue. Copper red and the second largest brush, perfect. Two cans for one, even more perfect. Some paint cleaner, a second brush just in case, and you're done. A group of old ladies are mumbling next to the wallpapers. The words Asgore and newspaper catches your attention. You convince yourself that you see something interesting in the shelf opposite of them.

"I heard that they used magic to hypnotize the previous residents to move," one starts.

"I saw them go into the mayor's house and leave with a small child," another follows.

"Are they stealing our young?" a third continues.

"Maybe that's the source of their magic, small children. They eat them and absorb their souls."

You scoff at the idea and the mumbling stops. You pick up a plastic pack of thumbtacks and shake it. It makes a similar sound. The mumbling starts again.

"And yesterday my son in law saw one of the big ones accompany a dinosaur to the mayor. It was wearing a white coat. What if they're keeping him in some kind of monster machine? Cloning him?"

"What about the skeleton? Is it a monster or is it one of us? If they eat our kids, what's stopping them from using our own dead against us? Will we have to fight both monsters and undead?"

"I saw him too, he asked me if he could help me across the street, but I attacked him with my purse and he ran away screaming."

You hear cheering behind you. You run your finger against the products to remind them that you're searching for something.

"So why haven't the army come and locked them in again?"

"My daughter told me that's because the monster king convinced them that they come in peace. If I was locked in for thousands of years I wouldn't come back and look for peace, I would look for blood."

You feel a small part of yourself agreeing with that logic, but you try and shake that feeling away. It still lingers, it makes sense that they would tell the army to not come and to appear friendly so that we are susceptible to a surprise attack. You try to think back to the lunch, to find something that would cause suspicion but everything Asgore said was with the utmost sincerity and truth in his voice. You have a suspicion that this feeling will linger and you feel disappointed. If the feeling is true you were played for a fool and if it's false, well, then you're just a bigot like the rest of them.

"The best we can do now is play along but be on guard, maybe we should start a neighborhood watch program?" one suggests.

"They will never suspect us. Little do they know, beneath our facade of beauty lies a pack of fierce cougars."

Your thoughts are interrupted by the wording of the last sentence. You shake it off and hurry along before more thoughts of distrust and elderly cougars infest you. What's next on the list? Ah, shower gel. You steer your cart towards the bathing products.

Aisle 17, shower and bath. As you make your way down the aisle you start to think, would skin moisturizers work on scales? You try to remember feeling Undyne's scales as she carried you. They were rougher than dry skin, but still felt wet. That could have just been your sweat though. It did stick to her scales as you remember her smelling like shower gel after she had her showers. Maybe you should ask Alphys.

You open your notes with questions for the monsters and add one more. Hm, it appears Mister Lister is rubbing off on you. You pick up a bottle on clearance. Sport shower. Whatever. Into the cart. Now what you do know is that scales are horrible for your sponges as they are much more coarse. Undyne apologized, but you just laughed it off.

"So, about my shower sponge? I guess you shower like you cut grass, violently. And with your spear? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5," you counted out loud as your piece jumped over Alphys' trap.

"Ha, you sure you want to know?" Undyne replied as she picked up the dice.

"Doesn't it evaporate the water? The spear I mean."

"Sorry, monster secret. Double six, now we're talking."

"If we are to live together we can't go around keeping secrets now, can we?" you teased.

"There are some secrets we are better off not knowing," Toriel added.

"Like not knowing how you use your magic in the shower? Snake eyes, dammit," you cursed as you barely missed a bonus tile.

"Among other things."

"Your snail pie recipe?"

"No, not really. I shouldn't really be talking about it," Toriel said with a hint of regret in her voice.

"yeah, you couldn't stomach the recipe," Sans quipped and followed up with a laugh.

"SANS, YOU SAID THAT YOU WERE TOO TIRED TO PLAY!"

"i am."

"C-c-could we please s-switch subject?" Alphys pleaded.

"Sure, sorry Alphee," Undyne smiled at Alphys.

"Sorry for the secrets or for the fact that you just knocked her out of the game?" you wondered with your brows hanging low for dramatic effect.

"I-it's ok. For both. I like to spectate," Aplys reassured.

"Just you and Toriel left, human. Defeat draws near! How does it taste?" Undyne threatened mockingly.

"Delicious, because, as you see, I just got an eight, and with this card your piece is going right back to the beginning."

"Not fair, how did you plan for that?"

"Sorry, human secret," you scoffed out. The monsters were fools to challenge to to this board game! They were nothing but-

You're jolted back to the present by an abandoned cart smashing against yours with your rib cage taking the majority of the hit. A series of coughs follows. You look around for the owner but can't seem to find them. You can't hear them either, in fact, the store has gone awfully quiet. You turn your cart sideways so that it stays put and make your way towards the main aisle.

You poke your head out to see what the lack of fuss is about. You find out that you're one of many heads looking towards the exit. A large creature with familiar sunglasses stands in the doorway, triggering the sensor and making the door open and close in a loop. In one hand she is holding a purse, the other one is digging through it.

"Why don't you two go and pick what you want?" Toriel offers with her head just above her purse.

"WILL DO! FRISK, FOLLOW ME FOR REFRESHING COLDNESS!" Papyrus replies, taking Frisk in his mitten. You assume as much since you can't really see that much over the sea of heads in front of you. Judging by the way he bends bends down you're pretty sure you're right.

The ocean of people parts as they walk through, like a shark in a school of fish. You can't get a clear view, but you can see Papyrus' head bobbing up and down. They reach the area where the ice cream is located and you see the head disappear down.

"WOW, THERE ARE SO MANY!"

Despite being so far away you can hear the freezer open up, the rattling of plastic wrappers and loud thinking.

"LOOK, THERE'S A SKELETON ONE! IT MUST TASTE AMAZING!"

The sound of the door stops as you see Toriel make her way towards her companions, her upper body is towering over the many heads.

"YOU SHOULD PICK THIS ONE, IT LOOKS LIKE A SNAIL!"

"I wonder if it taste like one too. No, it seems to be chocolate..." She hangs on the word chocolate.

"WHAT ABOUT YOU FRISK? OH, GOOD CHOICE!"

The freezer is closed and they make their way towards the checkout. The whole store is in suspense, and stepping back to let her go first in queue. You can't imagine the pressure on the poor cashier. Surprisingly, the transaction goes smoothly, but you can hear the nervousness in the cahsier's voice. The now ice cream wielding monsters give their thanks and make their way outside leaving just a pained sound from consuming said ice cream too fast.

Like a wind blowing through an aspen the store bursts into whispers. You shake your head and return to your cart. Where were you? Oh yeah, sponge. On the pile. Next is, planks and nails. You need to push hard to get your cart to spin on its wheels, but it cooperates after some convincing. The whispers surround you as you walk towards the woodworking.

"Did you see that?"

"Of course, how can they allow them inside?"

"Ice cream, can they eat our food? Did the big one wear sunglasses?"

"A skeleton?"

"Someone said that there was a child with them."

"Why did she not move from the door?"

The speaker system plays an ad for some celebrities' perfume and interrupts everyone. The crowd disperses back into the aisles but the whispers continue, albeit more private.

"I know I'm supposed to be scared or something, but the sunglasses did fit the big one really well."

"Combine that with her purple robe. Jeez, I wonder if there are stylists in the underground. She looked really good."

You feel a smirk form.

Aisle 34, wood and stuff. You open your phone to search for the right plank to buy. Again you're stationary, and again your ears decide to eavesdrop.

"So, I caught a glimpse of the new plans."

"From the mayor?"

The website takes a very long time to load.

"Yup, it appears that they want to build some kind of laboratory in the outskirts of the town, at the base of Mt Ebott. Didn't catch why though, could only look at it for a couple of seconds."

"Maybe they don't want us to hear the screams."

Worried chuckles.

"I heard that there were plans for another building, a school."

"A monster school perhaps? With spikes and slime?"

You accidentally misspell the name of the plank and have to reload the slow page.

"I guess that means that they are here to stay."

"Yeah, I'm just wondering if we're going to work together on these buildings. Maybe there's a monster that can mix cement, no one in this town can do it properly."

"Perhaps, or one that has like, eight arms."

"Hammer time, times four."

"Do the monsters have a union? Maybe we could hire some on the cheap cheap."

You finally get the name right, but the picture on the website is blurry, and you try to make out how it looks.

"And risk answering to their king? Have you seen him? Apparently he's got a silver tongue, he got building permits in just two days."

"Hm, you've got a point there."

"Anyway, kids and wife alright?"

"Somewhat shaken, but it will blow over."

You narrow your eyes, but you still can't make out how it differs from the other planks.

"You seem quite relaxed yourself."

"Deadline is coming up, can't afford to be afraid."

"Amen to that."

"Excuse me. Do you know where this plank is?" you interrupt the two builders, showing a picture on your phone.

"Yeah, it's on the other side of the aisle, first shelf."

"Thank you."

"That's quite a large cart you have there, do you have a car to bring it home?" one of the builder comments.

You just now realize that you might have a problem carrying a full cart plus some planks home with just two hands. Maybe if Undyne was here, but alas.

"Um, no, no I don't. I just realized," you say and laugh in frustration.

"Would love to give you a ride but there wont be any room, sorry."

"Don't sweat it, I'll figure something out."

You're interrupted by the other man laughing.

"Don't be rude, we all make mistakes," the first one spits, pushing the other one with one hand.

"No, I just had an idea. You see, there are some motorized wheelbarrows a couple of aisles down. I just had an image in my head that's all."

"You serious?"

"If you pack carefully."

"I'm not planning on buying much more, just the planks and new hinges for my window," you explain.

"They're not the cheapest solution you know."

"I've got some spare cash," you say with a smirk.

"Selling human secrets to the monsters?"

"Hehe, y-yeah, no," you stutter out.

"Sounds like we got ourselves a traitor to the human race! What did they offer you, except money?"

"Nothing, just money, but lots of it."

"Maybe we should switch career? The monsters would pay well for solar panel technology, I'd imagine."

"Sounds like a plan."

You laugh it off and thank them for their help. A motorized wheelbarrow, maybe you could slip by unnoticed now that everyone got monsters on their brains. You turn the aisle and grab the planks, balancing them on the top of your pile of products. They sway back and forth as you move towards the metalwork.

Your stuff almost slide off as you stop at the nails. You grab a package, and ask a clerk for the location of the hinges. After a store smile and a two fingered point you find the right ones and add them to your cart. You prop it against a shelf and start walking to where you were told the wheelbarrow where.

You grab a pamphlet. Green, beautiful steel, wooden handles with plastic grip, high class rubber wheel with a chain connected to a sturdy motor. Comes in both electricity and petrol. It's controlled like a scooter, but the handle is parallel instead of perpendicular to you. Volume of storage, just enough for your groceries, just like the builder said. Price, affordable, considering the amount of secrets you've been selling.

You marvel at the combination you never knew you wanted and you have a reason to buy it. You pick the eco friendly one and try it. The feeling of being dragged instead of pushing a wheelbarrow feels weird but you're sure you can get used to it. Screw it! Why not? You steer it back to your cart, but you're intercepted halfway there.

"Oh, my, god, you actually did it."

"Jealous?" you tease.

"Of course I am! Can I take a picture with you driving it home? Maybe I can convince our boss to get some for our site. I'll lend you some straps to hold your groceries in place," the builder proposes.

"Sure, meet you outside?"

"Absolutely! We are heading for the checkout, did you find the planks?"

"Yes I did. I'm also heading for the checkout."

"Perfect, I'll help you with your cart."

"I'll take ours then," the other builder offers.

"Oh, thanks."

You part ways with the other worker.

"So, you've seen the monsters yet? Besides selling them our secrets," your partner in shop asks.

"Yeah, I've seen some of them."

"So, what do you think?"

"I don't know really," you reply with a shrug.

"Do they scare you?"

"No, not really. They seem to be friendly."

"Can't imagine being locked up for so long. I would've been pissed but they seem to just be cool with it. I mean, sure they must be angry for being locked up, but they seem to be happy just being out," the builder says while pouting with his lips.

"Perhaps they remember that we lived together once."

"We did? Where did you hear that?" the builder asks you with a quizzical look.

You get to the end of the queue. The other worker is in the other line, ten people in front of you.

"Isn't it common knowledge?" you try to save.

"Not that I know, no. You sure you're not a spy?"

"I just thought people knew that we lived together for more time then we've been separated."

"Really? I grew up being told that they've always been locked up, but that there was this time a hundred years or so. My grand-grandmother lived in another village when a monster came from the mountain carrying a small human child. The monster walked to the flower patch in the center of the village, and fell to its knees. It carefully laid the child on the flowers and started to weep. She said that even though it was a large monster, it still cried like a kid. When my grandfather approached it it flung up, slashing his torso with its claws. He died right there on the spot." The builder breathes out. "The rest of the village was soon upon the monster, but it managed to escape using its magic. Apparently the child had been missing for some time and when the parents found out what happened they moved and the rest of the village soon followed, forming our town on the other side of Mt Ebott."

"Never heard that story before. Why haven't I, you would think something that important would be passed on?"

"The village made a truce to not speak of it. They thought that if they just forgot about it the monsters would stay locked up. My grandfather figured it was a good way to spook my kids, but considering what's been happening I'm inclined to believe it."

"But what about the village? Is it still there?"

"Official records say that they decided to move because the farmland here was better. Perhaps the magic corrupted the land, I don't know. I've visited and the land seems drained somehow now that I think about it," the builder explains.

"Your grandfather was right, it's some spooky stuff alright."

"Yup, he was proud of that story."

The builder helps you lift your things onto the register belt.

"What did the monster look like? You said it was large but it sounded like a child," you ask as you bend down for the shower gel.

"My grandfather heard the story on his mother's deathbed and she didn't remember. She was one of the youngest inhabitant and the only one to break the truce it appears. Otherwise there would be panic, not mistrust."

You wonder if Toriel or Asgore know anything more. A monster escaping the barrier, it would cause quite the stir you'd imagine.

"Thank you for telling me, interesting stuff."

"It got us through the queue, so I would say it was a win-win," the builder smiles out as he passes you.

"Sure it was. I'll pay for these and see you outside."

"Will do."

The total came close to the cash you brought, the wheelbarrow making up a large percentage. You refill your cart and head outside.

The workers are packing their stuff into their pickup. They stop when they see you and wave you over to them. They help you move your bags over to your wheelbarrow and strap it down. You lift it up and throttle it. You have to give it quite some power before it starts moving. It works! It actually works! You still have to push but the motor helps immensely.

"Just make some turns and then give it some speed," the builder instructs.

You gladly obey as you dance with it around the parking lot. You can get up to a brisk walk with the amount of stuff it carries.

"That's enough! You need some battery for the journey home. Come look at the footage. It turned out better than expected."

The three of you huddle around the phone and laugh at the movie.

"If that don't convince our boss then I don't know what will. Thank you and keep the straps, we got lots more."

"And thank you for the story," you reply.

"Did he tell you about the monster attack? His grandpa had dementia when he told him that, just so you know," the second builder explains.

"Dude, come on. It's my grandpa you're talking about."

"I don't want you going around and scaring everyone with that tale, that's all, and I don't want people to start believing the newspaper. If people are content with living with monsters that will mean that the monsters will have an easier time settling down above ground. More contracts for us," the second builder adds.

"Still, dude."

"Yeah, sorry, I overstepped there."

"It's OK," the builder nods and looks at his watch.

"We outta get back to work, it was nice meeting you."

You take his outstretched hand in yours, wave to other, rev your engine, and laugh with them one more time and roll home.


	8. It's raining somewhere else

You debate whether to walk on the side walk or on the bike way with your wheelbarrow, but since the street is mostly empty you decide to stay on the side walk. The sound of the engine will alert people you hope as you don't really have a good view in front of you.

You reach a crosswalk and have to stop early so that the planks don't stick out as they might hit a car. No idea reaching for the button where you stand so you walk around your mountain of consumerism and to your surprise you spot Toriel and Frisk walking on the other side of the street.

They're heading for the newly built block. Makes sense, they're were supposed to go on sale in like a month or two, but Asgore must have made a pretty generous offer. You wonder if you should greet them, but the decision is made for you.

As the light turns green Frisk's ear is right next to the button, and the rattling from it startles them. They react by flinching, and as they turn their head, they spot you. They squint even more, how is that even possible, and tug at Toriel's arm. She asks Frisk what they want, and then follows Frisk's finger towards you. She takes out the remainder of her ice cream, the handle, and waves you to her.

"Hello there again, human. So good to see you. How have you been?" she says warmly.

"Good, good. It's nice to see you too," you reply as warm as you can but your voice is like a candle next to the sun that is Toriel's voice.

"May I?" she asks with her paw stretched out towards you head.

"Sure," you answer, even though you're not sure what she means.

A soft paw grips your head, like a mother, holding her first born. She turns your head to inspect your injury. A furry thumb pushes your hair from the scar, massaging your lobe in the process.

"Seems to be healing nicely. Do you want me to heal it completely?" she asks with a smile that fills you with feelings long forgotten. A mothers touch, wanting nothing else than to help her child. Don't worry, it's just a scrape, here, let me bandage it, better? Don't cry, let me just get that silly tuff of hair out of your eye. I'll get you some sweets, sound good?

You feel tears building up and you twist your head out of her paw.

"No, mom, I'm fine."

The realization of what you said comes too late and she manages to reply.

"Ok, Asriel, if you say so."

There's a long moment of silence. You open your mouth to apologize, but nothing comes out. The two of you just stand there, looking at each other. You see a very familiar ripple form at the bottom of her right eye. She must have seen it herself because now it's she that averts her gaze. You can see tears hitting her fluffy ears as they spin around.

"S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to," you stutter out.

"Don't worry, child, it was my fault," she tries to reassure, but the instability in her voice scares you a bit. It's not much, but it's there. It feels very alien, and judging by her reaction, she think so as well. Frisk is tugging at her robe. This appears to be new ground for all of you. "Don't worry Frisk, it's the sun, it still stings. Let me get my sunglasses." Toriel tries again while reaching into her purse. You hope that Frisk don't catch on that they're standing with their backs against the sun. "There, much better."

Her voice is back to being as sturdy as a diamond. The confidence spills over to you, and you feel that you can suppress your tears. You decide to change the subject.

"How are you coming along with your school, Toriel?" you ask, focusing on each word to make them as stable as possible. "You said you wanted it up as soon as possible."

"Still looking for some teachers, I'm afraid. Human teachers. I'm trying to follow your advice, but so far there's not been many applications."

You scream in your head. Your resume! You haven't started writing it!

"Didn't you say that you had some experience?" she asks you.

"Yes I have. I had a summer job where I taught science classes for middleschoolers. To help them catch up," you reply. Your inner volume crossed over to your outer voice, but you managed to dampen it after some words.

"I shouldn't really be doing this. Asgore wants us to have a proper hiring process. I can understand that, but it's going to get harder and harder for us to fit in for each passing day. We need to start as soon as possible." She sighs. "Can you come over later today and do an interview with me? If what you say is true it would take a huge weight off my back."

The sigh of relief you exhale in your mind could knock Toriel off her feet.

"Of course I can. Just give me your address and I can be there around five?"

"At that time I will probably be at the town hall. That's fine though, we can have a pretend class! I'm sure Frisk would love that."

The definition of stone face stares right at you, hands still firmly wrapped in purple cloth.

"Then it's settled, town hall at five. What kind of class by the way?"

"You'll see when we get there, I've already prepared a curriculum," she says with pride.

"Fair enough, see you then."

"Will do. Thank you and farewell. Come now, Frisk. I'll bake us a pie when we get back home."

You wait until they are outside hearing distance and then some before you start cursing yourself out. How could let yourself slip like that? You've probably dug up something old and buried for her. Way to go, idiot! You grab your wheelbarrow and continue home.

The sound of the motor acts like a constant reminder. You screwed up, bad. If you didn't forgot to bring something to help you carry you would've not been in this situation.

"But what about her job offer?" the back of your head asks.

"Yeah, right! I'll be mighty surprised if she even wants to see me again, let alone work with me. That was something deep I said," you answer it.

"So what? She apologized, didn't she? We could hear her sincerity right?"

"Yeah, but why did she apologize? I started it."

"Well, technically she did. She caressed our head just like mom used to. We miss her, don't we."

"Of course I miss her! Not a day goes by."

"Yes, we know. It's just, the last couple of days have been amazing! New friends, new energy, and now we have a chance to finally have a job. Let's just nail the interview and then we'll take one day at a time. Dog poop coming up, be careful."

You sidestep it.

"Sounds good," you say to yourself.

The rest of the walk home goes by without further incidents. You decide to unpack from the patio since the front door has stairs leading up to it. You wheel your goods around the house. Once back on the patio, you release the straps and start unloading. Planks, paint and the nails stays outside while the rest goes inside. You smile at the fully stocked fridge and freezer with your mouth watering for lunch. Hard work first, reward later. You got some long overdue repairs to do. The missing wall being the most important.

Clouds are forming in the distance. Dark smudges on an otherwise blue canvas that is the sky could bring some rain, which could soak into the insulation, and leave both the house and you sour to the core. A quick trip to the shed to store and recharge your wheelbarrow and to get some tools later you start with the repairs.

You remove the broken planks and replace them with the new ones. Luckily the store had the correct length, so you can immediately start with the first layer of paint. First you fetch an old, long armed shirt, to wear. You're not in the mood to wash paint from your skin. You pop off the lid with a screwdriver and dip the brush halfway, wiping the excess paint against the edge and begin.

Long strokes, dad had taught you. Long and with the fibers. Wet on wet. Good job! Not too much paint though. It'll thicken up after another layer. Perhaps we should repaint the house next summer. Update us on your schedule when you get back to university. Nice work, let's eat.

You're not sure if it's sweat or tears that darken your sleeve as you wipe your face, both perhaps. You leave the first layer to dry.

The dining room window is heavier than you thought, but you manage to set it down carefully. The hinges are just rust, and it takes a valiant effort to unscrew them from the wall. The hinges almost crumble in your hand as they come loose. Fortunately, the wood is still somewhat fresh, and you manage to fasten the new hinges without readjusting the window. You can't remember the last time you last closed it, but your muscle memory does.

You still have a couple of hours before the paint needs another layer, so now is a good time as any to make some food. You chop some potatoes, crack an egg and open some sausages. The mix sizzles nicely in some olive oil, and it's not long before you scrape it on a plate. Some seasoning later you got yourself a nice lunch. A glass of cold apple juice to wash it down. Store bought, but maybe next season you can make some of your own. If the tree survives, that is.

Food in hand you take a seat outside figuring that it would be a good idea to enjoy the sun before it retreats behind the clouds. You lean back and close your eyes. The sun seems to give some extra flavor because this is some really good stuff you're putting in your mouth. It could also be that the weeks and weeks of boring noodles, but you let yourself dream.

A shadow darkens your eyelids for a bit and a breeze passes by you causing the chair next to you to squeak. You figure a cloud must have passed by. You shudder at the cold, but you're soon reheated by the the sun and another fork of food. You feel some sweat forming and reach for your glass of juice, but, it's not there. Still wanting to enjoy the sun you keep fumbling with your eyes closed, but the juice is nowhere to be found. Did it fall off?

"Glass in grass, dammit," you say to yourself. You open your eyes and scan through the white haze caused by the sun to see if you can spot it.

"not really."

You jolt sideways, away from the sound, and almost throw your plate away in the process.

"what do you call this?" Sans says, nose bone just above the rim of the glass.

"Apple juice, but how did you?" you answer.

"shortcut," he answers while retreating his nose. "could i bother you for something else?"

"Sure, the fridge is just around the corner."

He hands you back your glass and you instinctively smell it.

"No, no, I've always done that, it's not because you're a," you explain with your hand flailing in the air.

"and here i was under the impression that humans drank with their mouth."

He enters your house and returns after a short while with a bottle of ketchup.

"No thanks, eggs and ketchup don't mix," you kindly decline.

"good to know," he replies as he pops off the cap and takes a swig.

"Right, forgot about that."

You take a swig of your own, less viscous drink, and continue eating. The clouds are approaching slowly from the horizon, but maybe you can still apply the second layer in time.

"so, about those potatoes," Sans says after two more swigs.

"I just fried them together with the sausage and egg. Then some olive oil to give it some flavor and just a pinch salt. It carries over from the sausage so you don't really need much," you explain, showing the remainder of your food. You see him staring at you instead of your creation. "Ah, the other potatoes," you say as you take another bite. You swallow. "I met Toriel and Frisk an hour or so ago, they were coming home from the store."

"and how do you know that?"

"I saw them at the store."

"they didn't see you?"

Another swig of ketchup.

"There was like, a hundred people or so between us."

Another bite of food.

"you could have said hi."

"Didn't want the attention."

"attention?"

"On the dining table is a newspaper, it should explain."

You feel another breeze and see that Sans is now holding said newspaper.

"why do you have this?"

"It's free and opt out. Haven't bothered, and it makes for some good tinder. I got a stash next to the fireplace if you want to read more, though I don't know why you would."

You take a sip of juice while the skeleton skims through the pages. Despite being having no skin his face contracts into a multitude of different emotions. Like clay. It's fascinating. It finally settles on, annoyance, you think, or perhaps, anger? Yes, definitely anger. You prepare yourself.

"what?" he exclaims.

"Excuse me?"

"what is this?" he asks and smacks the top corner of the newspaper.

"Besides a waste of ink and trees?"

"that's not how a bar graph works."

"A skeleton of science, who would've thunk?" you wonder out loud before taking another bite.

"this is just- you can't make the bars wider! the proportion is all over the place."

"Glad to hear that we have something in common. I would recommend stopping there."

"you're talking about the articles right? don't worry, as you said, just a waste," Sans reassures, folding the newspaper and handing it to you. You put it aside.

"So, about this old acquaintance of yours? Mind giving me an explanation?"

"yes, i do."

"An apology then?"

"for what?" he asks with his eyes closed.

"Threatening me."

"that wasn't a threat, just, a bait of sorts."

"Bait for what?" you counter with furrowed brows.

"who, bait for who."

"And that who being the acquaintance I would guess, or are they a potato?" you spin the last piece on your fork before you eat it. You've now finished your meal.

"more like a parasitic fungus to be honest."

"Wouldn't want that messing up your yard," you agree as you balance your plate on the top of your fence.

"exactly. so i hope you understand my caution."

"I guess."

An uneasy silence falls upon you as you process what he said. You remind him of a parasitic fungus? Did he have a bad roommate or something? Your thoughts are interrupted by distance thunder.

"Bet you didn't have this down in the underground?"

Sans wakes up. How did he fall asleep so fast? He looks at the clouds and despite his constant smile you feel that it's genuine now. "no, i've heard stories about the rain. how it forms, how it comes, and how it goes. i hope it's not as stale as it is down under."

"Didn't Asgore say something about water finding its way down the cracks?"

"which means that it only rains in predetermined areas, if we were lucky another crack would form and we would have another puddle. but up here, it always rains somewhere else. you can wake up in the morning and it can be sun, and then an hour later it could pour like the waterfall."

"Not sure if I'm familiar with that expression."

"there exists an area that we call the waterfall. our easiest source of fresh water, and with nothing else to compare falling water to i guess we adopted it to describe a lot of raining."

"That might win me some points with the others. Up here we say that it's raining cats and dogs," you explain.

"it does?"

"Never experienced real cats and dogs falling down from the sky, but with all the magic you guys bring I'm sure we will figure something out. Which reminds me, how diverse are your people and their magic?"

"wrong monster to ask i'm afraid."

"I know Toriel's and Undyne's magic. How about the others, surely you would know?" you pry.

"asgore has fire like toriel. alphys i don't know. frisk is a human, and papyrus turns you blue."

"He turns me blue? Like, my skin, or blue as in depressed?"

"nope, he turns this blue," he says, pushing his finger against your heart. Nothing happens. "huh, interesting."

You look at the spot, but all that's there is his finger.

"I don't feel anythi-," you start before being interrupted by his finger flicking your nose.

"feeling blue?"

"So, your magic is tricking people," you say while massaging away the impact.

"among other things."

"Like?"

"where i come from you don't really ask about another monster's magic. it's sorta personal, so excuse me for not telling."

"Didn't know that it was personal, sorry."

"the fact that you've seen two already should speak volume to how lucky you are."

"My apple tree would like to have a word about feeling lucky," you point out with a finger towards the darkened tree.

"wood love to speak with it but i don't know anyone that speaks with trees."

"I've met people that claimed that they could."

"you make it seem like they were lying about it."

"They said the tree wasn't feeling talkative which was a shame because it was cut down the day after. But I digress, how diverse are the monsters?"

"again with the personal questions," Sans reminds with his eyes closed, again.

"Not really. I just want a heads up to what if I decide to visit."

"i would recommend postponing that idea for a while."

"Frisk seems okay, why would I be in danger?" you ask with a questioning hand.

"things are still a little tense, and not only up here. we remember who won the battle, and that's why there's only a few of us that left in the first place. don't get me wrong, we'd love to return, but frisk wasn't the first human to enter the underground and, you know what, i've said too much."

"Come on now, don't leave me hanging here! There were other humans? Where are they now?" you try to pry again but the skeleton is fast asleep. You sigh, and start collecting your dishes. As you reach for the ketchup bottle a bony hand blocks your attempt.

"leave it."

"If you tell me what happened to the other humans."

"take it."

You pick up the bottle and carry it, and your plate inside. You rest it all on the sink and start washing up. Five minutes later everything is dried and in their respective cupboard. Just the, wait a minute, where's the ketchup? Did you drop it? The sound of a plastic top hitting stone gives you the information you seek. You peek your head out the patio door..

"ah, ah, ah, it's personal," Sans reminds you again with his bottle in his face.

You retreat back through the door and close it. Prying just seem futile at this point, and besides, you've got other things on your mind. Maybe you should do a practice lesson before your practice lesson.

You go upstairs into the office to retrieve your old books and your curriculum papers. They're just a couple of years old so they shouldn't be too out of date. You take a seat at the desk and start reading. You have a lot of this stuff still in your head, but a reminder shouldn't hurt.

Encourage the pupils. Make every lesson fun. Group projects. How to help kids that are struggling. How to help kids that are spearing ahead stay interested. Never scream. Stay with the curriculum. You got this, no problem. You decide to skim through the textbooks.

Science, religion, math, history, you're pretty sure that you know all this like the back of your hand. But, um, isn't this a human curriculum? How much will the monster's differ from your? You pan yourself for not asking Toriel, but maybe Sans knows.

You close the books and make your way downstairs. The color of your house have shifted from a pleasant bright orange to a dull gray. Must be that the clouds are drawing closer. You step outside on the patio to investigate. Wind's picking up, but the dark clouds are still far away. You can see faint thunder in the distance though.

The skeleton is snoring with the ketchup firmly in his hands, like a baby with its bottle. You quickly find your painting shirt and return to the water barrel. Despite the looming rain you still paint slowly. If you stress you can maybe save five minutes which won't help when the rain comes, and you might fail to make it stick. Twenty long minutes later, with small raindrops hitting your neck from time to time, you're done. Nothing more you can do but hope that the storm passes by.

"if your shirt were blue we would be matching," Sans comments, pointing at the dots of red paint strewn about on your clothing.

"Bet yours would taste better. Listen, I need to go soon and I need to get the chair padding in the chest so if you could just." You motion with your hands and Sans follows, surprisingly. You stuff the pillows back into the plastic chest and lock it. You fold your chair and prop it up against the wall. As you reach out to do the same with Sans's his bony hand interrupts you, again.

"could i maybe watch the storm from here?"

"Um, sure, but can't you do that from your house?"

Wind picks up again.

"we don't have lawn chairs. didn't come with the house and i haven't bought any."

"Why not?"

A leaf settles itself on Sans head, he ignores it.

"didn't want the attention."

"I see, but I'm going to lock the doors," you explain as you walk around him towards the door. "Don't think about using the window. I've fixed it."

"don't worry, i know a shortcut home. i will be home before it start to rain dogs and cats."

"You're dressed for the weather I suppose." You notice, indicating towards Sans' jacket. "Just prop the chair next to other one when you feel like you're done."

A rumbling from the distant storm can be heard.

"thank you, human. i've waited a long time for this."

"Anytime skelebro, anytime. Maybe you'll stop threatening me after this."

"depends. good luck with the interview," he says before you close the patio door.

You wave goodbye through the glass and pack your stuff, raincoat on just in case. You lock the door and start heading your way towards the Town Hall.


	9. And now it's raining here

Having the sun in your face and feeling wet winds hitting you in the back is messing with your head. You feel like you're gonna start sweating but at the same time you want to put on an extra layer. Maybe you should walk the other half backwards to even it out? Despite the discrepancy in your body temperature you still manage to enjoy the weather. There's not been a good storm for some time and the rain will do the farmers good.

You walk on the edge of light and darkness as the clouds make their way across the sun leaving a line of shadow that follows you, it's a large distance behind you but it's moving faster then you. You wonder if it'll catch up before you arrive. Better enjoy the sun while it's out, you reckon. That's not to say that you dislike the rain, no, on the contrary, you prefer it over the sun from time to time. The smells it produces, the sound of it hitting the metal roof, the feeling of it hitting your face, the puddles it makes.

You used to jump in them with your, sister. With her red boots and her raincoat, which was too big for her, it was like a rubber dress, her scraped knees browned from the muddy water being splashed as she found yet another puddle. Hand in hand you would scour the land looking for the deepest one. You hope that the rain catches up so that you have a reason to be wet besides the tears. Deep breaths, deep breaths, clear your head.

A faint smell of ozone slips in and you look back towards the darkened sky. It is still moving towards the town, towards your wet paint. You sigh, nothing you can do about it now. Focus on the task ahead. Keep that study session fresh.

The street is rather empty despite it being the main street. Monsters or the brewing storm, you wonder? Little bit of column A, little bit of column B, drawn by someone else than Miss. Can't Make A Proper Bar Graph. Thoughts of smashing her head against her keyboard fills your head. Sans would certainly join in the festivities as he sounded just as annoyed as you were when he saw that abomination. You two might have had a bad start, but it seems that the two of you did find something to build upon. He seems like a pretty chill guy after all. Not really best friend material, but he doesn't seem to want one. You can live with that.

The shadow line passes you, and your world turns gray, except for a bit of an orange glow coming from the edge of town. It's a nice sunset. The smell turns more bitter as you keep walking though. You've heard a lot of lightning behind you, but never smelt ozone this strong before. Something is off. As you continue down the street the air becomes grayer and grayer. You look up and see that the clouds are darkening as well. Is it moving that quickly? Your paint is probably dripping on to the grass and the wood is probably destroyed so you have to buy some more tomorrow.

You kick a can in frustration and make an annoyed grunt, it takes a toll on your throat. That's weird, it stings really bad. You cough to try to get it out but it just makes it worse. What is happening? Lightning can't produce this much ozone. You need to practically be standing in a a swarm of them and that wouldn't even come close. Your eyes are watering as well, the air is stingy, causing tears to run down your face. You dry them off only to discover something on your sleeve.

"Soot?" you ask out loud. You run a finger on your cheek. Yep, that's soot, but from where? You can't see any- Oh, the sunset, it's only early afternoon. Something is on fire. Oh, my god! it's coming from the monsters block. You fumble out your phone.

"Please state your emergency," a voice picks up after you dial the emergency number.

"Yes, hello, there appears to be a fire in the newly built block! Please send a fire engine."

"A fire engine is on its way, we've had a number of people call in before you did."

"Oh, good."

"But thank you for calling, you should always call when there's an emergency. Now let the professionals do their job," the voice asks of you before it disconnects, and you decide to cross the street in hope of finding some fresh air.

Color returns to your vision which each passing step and your breathing becomes easier. You look back and can now see that the sun is still out, there was just a thick, black, poisonous cloud of charred wood in the way. You take some greedy breaths, the smoke sticks to your throat leaving behind a disgusting taste as you try to exhale it. You hope that the wind don't shift so that the smoke stays on the other side of the street.

You take another breath, spit out the last of the smoke and massage your throat. Should have brought some water with you. Hopefully you can survive until you get to the town hall. The sun isn't helping either, you catch yourself wanting the rain to arrive but you're quick to remind yourself about your wall. You'll survive.

As you walk along the black corridor of ash and carbon you try to spot the location of the fire but the poisonous veil is blocking your sight, you can see it rise from the block but you can't pinpoint the exact source. You can hear faint sirens, coloring the gray smoke red and blue and hopefully hard at work at controlling the fire. Did Toriel or Asgore start it? They are the only monsters you know that can control fire but what motivation would they have? Did a human do it? It's true that many are suspicious of the monster but not to a degree that they would do something like that.

Your head shoots up in revelation, the pastor. That fucking asshole, first he has the nerve to accuse your family of bringing the end times, desecrating your parents grave in the process, and now he goes after your friends. Next time you see him, nothing left, you swear. Undyne can lend you a spear. You can feel your cheeks blush in excitement. Limb after limb, you'll make him squeal like the disgusting pig he is. It's his fault, he started it, you're just making it fair, the first human on his knees against the monsters' wrath.

"Hey, you alright?" someone yells, startling you and snapping you back to reality. Good thing too, where did the last part come from?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond without thinking. Are you really? No, you're not, you clutch your head.

"You're covered in soot, have you been inside the smoke?" A brightly colored woman walks towards you and stops you in your track. "Follow my finger with your eyes," she continues.

You struggle to do as she says and she follows you gently as she makes you sit down.

"Just relax and breathe, you've been inhaling smoke and you've got some carbon monoxide in your system. Here, use this," she explains as she puts a mask on your face. "Breathe."

Like being thrown into a icy lake you spring awake as the first stream of oxygen enters your lungs. You take another gulp and cough violently.

"Good, get that smoke out of your lungs," she says as she returns the mask to you. "Carbon monoxide poisoning can manifest as headaches and confusion, have you experienced any of that?"

"No," you reply. Technically you're not lying.

"Great, but let's do some more oxygen just to be sure."

"Just keep it coming, this is some great stuff."

"I know, I'd join you but I'm on the clock now."

You share a laugh and after two more rounds you feel good as new. She helps you up.

"Follow my finger."

You feel your eyes responding to your commands again and she seems satisfied.

"Where are you heading? We've closed off the road leading to the fire so you might need to take another path," she asks, removing her own mask in the process.

"The town hall, heading there for an interview."

"Shouldn't be in harms way. If you're unlucky the smoke could follow you for a while, but it shouldn't be thick enough to cause any problem. Maybe you should wash your face when you arrive."

"Will do. Do you know how the fire started?" you wonder while squinting against the flashing lights.

"I'm stationed here to redirect traffic and help people in your situation so I'm not up to speed, but it looks like your standard house fire."

"Was it an accident or did someone start it?"

"Can't tell at this moment, we'll know more when the fire is out."

She points at the storm.

"Looks like we might be getting some help."

You look back at your house but you can't find it, the rain is in the way. You hum in frustration. "You're not worried that the lightning might cause more fires?"

"If the wind keeps steady the storm part will just go over the plains."

You hear static whispering coming from her, and she puts a finger next to her ear.

"Would love to continue talking but my colleagues have spotted some cars heading this way. Take care."

"Could I get one for the road?" you beg jokingly while making the shape of the mask with your hand. You're surprised that she agrees to your request. You feel your eyes open up and you head getting clearer. You say your thanks, wave goodbye, and continue on with renewed strength.

The town hall is one of the oldest building in the city, on the outside. It was renovated a couple of years ago. Where they got the money for it you're still puzzling about. You open one of the double doors, its ornate handle fits nicely with the more ornate door, abstract circles and creative interpretations of other shapes clad it. It's nice. Despite its size it opens silently. The lobby is empty of people, so you take the opportunity and make your way towards the bathroom.

You wash the soot off your face and it turns the white sink sickly gray. You wipe away as much as you can. Your clothes were protected by the soot, good thing you came prepared with an extra layer. It did protect against the complete opposite of what it was supposed to, but you decide not to look your gift horse in the mouth. You hang up your outer layer and brush away the soot that fell off onto your shirt. You walk to the reception and ring the bell.

Nothing.

You ring again.

Still nothing.

You take a seat and wait.

Thirty minutes pass and you start to wonder if Toriel made it out of the inferno. A while later you start hearing footsteps through the wall, but they're too light to be Toriel's. The door is flung open to reveal two dark figures standing under an umbrella which is as dark as they are.

"Human, are you here too? Did you also burn down your house?" Undyne spouts, waving her hand and getting ash all over the doorway.

"No, I'm here to see Toriel, I'm applying as a teacher," you say, baffled by what you see and hear. "So the fire is your doing?"

"Yeah, I was preparing dinner when suddenly the stove caught fire. I thought only monster stoves did that."

"You've burned down your house before?" you scoff out.

"Plenty of times, but I thought that it was because the monster stove couldn't handle my-" she is interrupted by an ashen Alphys elbowing her in the ribs causing a small shower of soot to form between them.

"Cooking?" you pry.

"Uh, yes, my cooking, the monster stoves can't handle it," she replies, her smile making a wide area of white in her otherwise black facade.

"So why are you here?"

"We called Asgore and he promised to get us a new house, he's used to it by now."

"I suppose you want to freshen up before meeting him. There are some showers just around the corner," you explain with a nod towards the room.

"Is there? Awesome! If Asgore comes tell him that we're in the shower. Come on, Alphee."

Alphys doesn't get a say in the matter as Undyne lifts her up above her head. She leaves black footprints after her as she rushes the corner leaving a stripe as she glides around it. The soot hangs in the air and you move seats to avoid it. The door is thrown open and closed with equal force. You hear the pipes shake a couple of seconds later. You desperately try to find something to think about except the monsters showering naked behind you. Water! Yes, water! You're thirsty.

You step over the black line left behind by Undyne and make your way to the water fountain. It tastes stale and warm. With all their renovation money they couldn't afford some ice water? You quench your thirst as far as you can and head back to your seat.

There's a drip, so you go back and tighten the handle. There's another drip, so you tighten it harder. A third drip, so your fingers turn white as you twist the handle again. Another drip and another, but you don't see them. Strange. You bend down to inspect the pipes under the fountain. Nope, dry as bone. More drips! Their pace is picking up, but you can't find the source. Did you break it? Is it leaking inside the wall?

You put your ear next to the wall. You can hear them hitting something on the other side, or maybe they're inside the wall. You drag your ear on the wall to find the source, but you can't find one, there's water everywhere. You continue until you hear a shift in pitch, the water is falling faster. How big is this leak?

You stand up but hit your head on something. You clutch your head and search for the perpetrator. You find it, it was the windowsill, under the window, which is wet on the outside because of the rain. You sigh an annoyed sigh and get up. An umbrella is closed right behind you and you almost jump out of your skin. You turn to see who it belongs to.

"HELLO AGAIN HUMAN, NICE WEATHER WE'RE HAVING!" proclaims Papyrus. His scarf hangs heavily over his shoulder, but other than that he's just as dry as you.

"You call this nice? It's raining like the waterfall."

"I THOUGHT ONLY MONSTERS SAID THAT, WE ARE MORE ALIKE THAN I THOUGHT! I NEED TO TELL SANS, HE WILL BE SO HAPPY!"

"Matter of fact, he told me about it. He came for a visit a couple of hours ago," you explain as you rub the back of your head.

"THAT'S WONDERFUL! DID HE RETURN YOUR COVER?"

"Not that I know of, no. He didn't mention it when we spoke."

"THAT LAZY PILE OF BONES! HE'S PROBABLY SLEEPING UNDER IT AS WE SPEAK!"

"Ha, yeah, probably. But Papyrus, why would you ever call this weather nice?"

"BECAUSE IT IS RAINING!" he says proudly with a finger raised.

"Yes?"

"AND I DIDN'T KNOW THAT IT WOULD BE RAINING EARLIER TODAY!"

"Sans mentioned something like that," you remember.

"YEAH, HE WAS VERY MUCH LOOKING FORWARD TO SEE IT RAIN ABOVE GROUND!"

"He actually stayed at my place to look at the storm."

"THAT'S REALLY COOL, CAN I ALSO COME OVER NEXT TIME?"

"Of course, bring your spaghetti."

You have a feeling that you might regret that.

"AND WE COULD EAT IT WHILE WE'RE WATCHING THE THUNDER?" Papyrus squeaks out while holding his head in his mittens, he looks like he's just struck gold.

"Sounds like a great idea, maybe we should invite the others too?"

"EVEN BETTER, I CAN'T WAIT, BUT I KNOW WHAT TO DO!"

"And what would that be?"

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN STUDYING YOUR HUMAN TRADITIONS! LIKE HELPING OLD LADIES ACROSS THE STREET, AND THE ART OF RAIN DANCING!" he proclaims while striking a heroic pose.

"Did you now, oh great Papyrus? So you are responsible for this downpour."

He bends over in deep thought, mitten on chin, his equivalent of eyebrows hangs low over two narrow slices of eye hole, "MAYBE I AM, I FOUND AN OLD BOOK IN THE LIBRARY THAT HAD THE RITUAL AND I PRACTICED AT HOME LATER, WHICH MEANS!" He springs up, "THIS STORM IS MY DOING! SANS WILL BE OVERJOYED WHEN I TELL HIM ABOUT IT! I'M THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DANCER OF RAIN!"

"I bet you are but maybe run the dance again tomorrow to really be sure."

"WILL DO HUMAN, CALL ME UP LATER WHEN YOU WANT TO INVITE US OVER!"

"Sure will, what's your phone number?"

He tells you the numbers and you give them a ring so he can add yours.

"The number you have dialed is not in service," informs a robot voice.

"It says that the number is not in use," you relay. You tell him to run the numbers again, they're correct.

"HM, MAYBE YOUR HUMAN PHONES ARE DIFFERENT FROM OUR MONSTER PHONES!"

"Wait, this is a monster phone number? You had phones underground?"

"GREAT ONES TOO! YOU COULD TALK, TEXT AND EVEN BROWSE THE UNDERNET!"

"Undernet?"

"IT'S LIKE, A WEB OF INFORMATION BUT INSTEAD OF BEING EATEN BY MUFFET YOU CLICK ON TEXT AND PICTURES THAT TAKE YOU TO OTHER TEXTS AND PICTURES, IT IS COMPLICATED TO EXPLAIN BUT IF YOU JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE!" He produces a pen and a notebook from his armor.

"I'm pretty sure that we have something similar we humans. I didn't think you had such, modern technology," you think out loud.

"ALPHYS CAN EXPLAIN MORE, LET ME CALL HER!"

"I don't think she will answer."

"WHY IS THAT, IS SHE WATCHING ANIME?"

"No, she is showering actually."

"AT HOME? HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

"No, no, in the showers over there," you say, pointing at the same corner as you did with Undyne. He starts walking towards the door. "Papyrus?" you ask, but you don't get a reply. He stops when he hears the shower and lifts his hand.

"ALPHYS, I NEED YOUR HELP EXPLAINING YOUR SCIENCE TO THE HUMAN!" Papyrus yells after three hard knocks.There's a moment of silence as the showers stop. He raises his hand again. "ALPHYS?"

The answer comes in the form of a large blue spear breaking a sizable hole in the bathroom door and hitting Papyrus in the chest. He is lunged backwards onto the opposing wall with the spear is burrowed deep in his armor.

"Papyrus! You know it's rude to knock when someone is showering! How many times do I have to tell you this?" Undyne screams through the door, her head popping out of the hole mid sentence.

"HELLO, UNDYNE, IS ALPHYS THERE? I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO HER!" Papyrus says. He seems worryingly unfazed by her attack.

Undyne's head disappears back into the bathroom and another spear is thrown again knocking Papyrus back. "Alphee is busy, we'll talk to you later."

"YES, MA'AM!" Papyrus replies, saluting with his mitten. He strides back to you with the same smile that he had when he left you.

"You alright?" you ask him as he gets closer.

"YES, HUMAN! DON'T WORRY, AS A ROYAL GUARDSMAN IT IS MY JOB TO BE VIGILANT AND TO BE PREPARED TO BE ATTACKED AT ANYTIME! UNDYNE IS GIVING ME SOME GREAT TRAINING! IT MIGHT LOOK DANGEROUS, BUT I SHALL NOT FALTER MY DUTIES!"

He stops next to you seemingly unaware that you have to duck so you don't get hit by the blue sticks as he turns his chest towards you.

"Speaking of duties, why are you here?"

"TORIEL ASKED ME IF I WOULDN'T MIND PICKING UP THE MONSTER KIDS AFTER CLASS!"

"That means we're both waiting for her class to end. She's going to interview me so that I can teach for the kids."

"YOU ARE? FANTASTIC! I HOPE YOU HAVE READ UP ON YOUR HUMAN MAGIC!" Papyrus informs with a concerned finger.

"We humans don't use magic," you reply while shaking your head.

"NO SECRETS, REMEMBER? I SAW PLENTY OF BOOKS IN YOUR HUMAN LIBRARY!"

"They're not-" you start, but you're startled by the sound of wet footsteps closing in behind you.

"Here is your nerd, nerds," Undyne yells, placing Alphys in between you and Papyrus. She returns to the showers yelling something about her hair and the room turns quiet for a couple of seconds. Alphys finally removes her claws from her eyes.

"Oh, hi, Papyrus."

"HELLO, ALPHYS, I HAVE SOME QUESTION ABOUT YOUR SCIENCE!" The color from her face drain as he utters the word science. "THE HUMAN WAS WONDERING ABOUT HOW IT COULD WORK WITH THEIR HUMAN EQUIVALENT!"

"Y-you have t-t-he s-sa-me? No, no, you can't, Asgore will, no," Alphys stammers out before collapsing with her head in her claws, sobs and muffled panic is echoing through the lobby.

"Alphys, what's the matter? Did I ask about something wrong? It's only that I can't call Papyrus on my cellphone," you say as carefully as you can and put a hand on her shoulder. You show her your phone with your other.

"C-c-cellphone?" she replies confused, searching your face for clarification.

"YES, YOU SEE, I GAVE MY NUMBER TO NYEEEH!"

Papyrus is interrupted by a third spear hitting the edge of his breastplate.

"If you've hurt my cuddlesaur, I swear PUNK, the next one will hit you," Undyne threatens, a rubber band is dangling off one of her long teeth which is reflecting the bright blue aura of her spear.

"N-n-no Undy, it was just a misunderstanding, please don't kill anyone."

The sobs return.

"I was just asking her about my cellphone," you add, waving it in your hand. Why did this turn so hostile all of a sudden?

Before Undyne can answer you hear a door open down the lobby, a herd of differently numbered limbs exit wearing multicolored sweaters. They are followed by Toriel who sees you.

"Hello, we can start in a minute or so. Let me just get these home safe," she yells over a sea of babbling kids discussing snails.

You help Alphys back on her feet. You scan for Undyne but you can't find her.

"Sure, be with you in a second," you reply.

So much for a clear head.


	10. Class is in session

"You take care of the little ones now Papyrus. Drive safely."

"WOULDN'T DREAM OF DOING ANYTHING ELSE! SAFETY IS MY MIDDLE NAME! ALONG WITH GREAT! COME NOW CHILDREN, THERE'S PLENTY OF ROOM AND SPAGHETTI!"

Like a drilled military the kids produce umbrellas from their backpacks and open them, fittingly it sounds like a machine gun firing. The lobby grows quieter as Papyrus leads them outside. The last thing you hear is a blue four legged monster questioning whether or not snails would work as dessert.

You do wonder that yourself.

"Toriel, you wouldn't know where Asgore is do you?" Undyne asks with her hands tinkering with her hair.

"I'm afraid you're more familiar with him than I am," Toriel replies.

Undyne removes the rubber band from her mouth and continues tinkering. "He told us he would meet us here, but maybe he's running late. Can we join your lesson while we wait? I want to see a human teacher in action."

"If it's OK with them," Toriel says while looking at you.

"Um, sure, I mean, might as well start with two before jumping to a whole class," you answer while shrugging your shoulders.

"Good thinking, dear. Are you ready?"

"I hope so."

The four of you enter the classroom and Toriel erases the notes from the previous lecture from the whiteboard. Alphys takes a seat, and Undyne finds a pen and paper. She writes something down and walks out to the lobby.

"I'm just leaving a note if Asgore comes," she says as she returns. She then takes a seat next to Alphys.

Toriel finishes cleaning off the whiteboard and hands you a book as she proceeds down the classroom.

"This is the book I want you to teach. I'm going to give you a couple of minutes to familiarize yourself with it," she explains as she seats herself next to Undyne. The stool creaks.

You make your way behind the teacher's desk and start exploring the book.

"Using Magic: How to ensure steady usage and growth of inherent abilities," by Rauhot Loschar.

"Magic?" you question.

"Hm?" Toriel answers.

"You want me to teach magic, but, humans can't use magic," you explain.

"Yes, you can, you made the barrier," Undyne chips in.

"You didn't say that it was magical. I thought it was some sort of, I don't know, but not magical."

"But Papyrus said that you had plenty of books on magic in your library. Why would he lie?" Toriel wonders.

"There are books about magic it's just that they're-"

"Then you do know about magic! Can we continue with the lesson?" Undyne cuts you off.

"They're more like illusions. Like this." In one move you bend your right thumb behind your fingers and cover the other one with your finger leaving the nail visible. You make sure that it looks that the two thumbs are actually one. You scan your audience. Undyne is leaning forward with her eyes wide open, her mouth is open in suspension. Alphys is cowering literally waiting for the magic to happen, tail in hand as usual. Toriel has her hand on her mouth in deep concentration.

You wink twice with your eyebrows and exclaim a magical phrase as you pop the upper half of your thumb from your lower half. The shock of your successful illusion knocks both Undyne and Alphys back screaming, tables and chairs go flying and you throw your hands up.

"No no no no, see, my thumbs are here!" you say, flicking your thumbs in the air.

"You can grow them back?" Undyne yells out in confusion.

"No, Undyne, I never pulled it off, it was just an illusion."

They scramble back on their feet, but the first three rows are now in severe disorder.

"Never ever do that again!" Undyne demands.

"I just wanted to show what the difference was. You have proper magic, this is just fake."

"I-i-t l-looked r-real," Alphys stammers out while tapping her claws nervously.

"Now now, Alphys, calm down," Toriel pleads in her trademarked soothing voice.

"I promise that it's only used for entertainment, I didn't mean to scare you," you reassure again.

"Human, though I respect your creativity with the source material I can't have you scaring your pupils. Please stick to the book," Toriel explains in a surprisingly serious tone.

"Yes, sorry, of course."

The first page contains a foreword from Asgore. "For the strengthening and pursuit of magic learning in our younger generation I offer this book my blessing," from Asgore Dreemurr. There's another foreword. "hOi!" by Temmie. Powerful, you think. The bottom corner is taken up by a picture of what you presume is Rauhot, he looks like the monster equivalent of Mister Lister. You pray that it is not the case. The next page proofs that there is no God.

Step 1: Comfort.

As the magic starts to present itself in the child it may feel uncomfortable. Depending on the magic type there could also be shift in moods. Drastic ones if left unattended.

That is not to say that you should discipline the child for those mood shifts, but instead you should talk with the child. Ask them how they feel and try to understand what they are going through.

Step 2: Open up

Magic is based on emotions, but letting your emotions get the best for you is seldom a good idea. As you talk with the child, share with them your own experience, tell them how it felt for you. As the presence of the child's magic becomes stronger the emotion it requires grows. This can manifest in outbursts of rage, decisions that may seem rash or illogical, and sometimes an excessive amount of crying may erupt. If your magic allows it, link them together. Having a sturdy soul to lean against can help immensely.

Step 3: Reassure

This phase is something all monsters go through, and though it may take a toll on the child, remind them that it's something natural and that they will be stronger because of it. Their magic is nothing to be afraid of. They will get through this, with your help, they will.

Step 4: Encourage

All magic is unique, but sometimes the usage won't present itself so clearly. Find something positive about it and polish it till it becomes clear. Remind the child that all magic is useful, everything from conjuring to destroying. As with the latter, if the child expresses fear over its abilities, remind them that they control their magic, not the other way around.

You finish skimming through the list, at least their Lister is better than your.

"Human, I just remembered, the first fifty pages are dedicated to monster parents, the second half is for teachers," Toriel says with a little blush.

"Figured as much," you reply and flip the pages.

As a teacher you are an extension of the guardians, not a replacement. You should teach the fundamentals about magic usage and the expression of one's soul. Split your classes between exploring both in similar detail, they are not the same thing. Show off your own magic and explain to them what they can accomplish but keep in mind that you don't promise too much. Using prominent monsters as examples, like Undyne and Asgore, is an effective way of stirring growth.

As the different magics start to appear you might find yourself with the thought of splitting them up depending on their type of magic. Don't! You may risk imposing an us versus them mentality. An example of playing to conjuration and destruction magic is to let the conjurers try to build something that's really difficult to destroy. If it breaks by the other kids' magic, ask them how the conjurers could improve their design, make them work together and build their magic together.

Great information, but how do you translate it? It seems like magic is best taught practically, using games and group projects. What about that soul stuff? You find it in the index and flip to the appropriate page.

A monster's soul is their source of magic usage and is just as unique as the magic it manifests. A child's soul is very moldable, and with the right guidance, that hopefully being you, it can grow to expel great magic.

In contrast to the practical teachings of magic the soul is best encouraged through deep thought. The seed is experiences and the fertilizer is reflection, an hour of silent reading or discussion about something relevant to the life and on goings of your pupils. Make them think about the world, the insight will help them understand themselves and their soul will grow along.

Contrary to popular belief the soul is not the source of ones magic, it is a catalyst in which magic can manifest outside the body. Monsters are made of magic and by learning more about how magic works and how one works magic you can increase the effectiveness of the souls. But to grow it you need to learn about yourself, why are you here, what is your purpose.

Both disciplines are worth chasing, they're equal in enhancing ones magical abilities. Why schools should pursue the latter is to even out the high intense lessons of magic usage with the somber, more quieter lessons of soul growing. The exploration of magic outside of school should be encouraged of course but the curriculum should give the student some high intensity lessons and some lower intensity lessons so that they don't get bored.

"Do you feel comfortable starting the lesson?" Toriel interrupts.

"This stuff still feels foreign to me," you comment as you scratch your head.

"I know that it is asking much," Toriel pleads, her voice filling you with love and confidence.

You close the book and sigh through your lips.

"Screw it, let's start."

"That's the spirit human, fill me with your knowledge. Make my brain explode from the information!" Undyne cheers.

"J-just do what comes natural," Alphys adds.

You take a deep breath.

"I apologize if I'm interrupting. I saw your note Undyne, and I'm off to meet the mayor. Wait for me in the lobby," Asgore's head says before retreating back to the lobby. There's a moment of silence. Toriel's annoyed face is staring at the door before she motions with her hand for you to continue.

"So, yeah, welcome to your first lesson in magic and soul usage. For a starter, why don't we go around the class and introduce ourselves and our magic?" you start. "Starting with you."

"Well, my name is Toriel. I'm the headmaster for this school, and my magic is fire and healing."

"Hello Toriel, looking forward to seeing your magic," you reply.

"Greetings everyone, my name is Undyne. I'm the head of the Royal Guard and my magic is conjuring spears and green magic."

"Nice to meet you Undyne, you're gonna have to explain what green magic is later."

You shift your eyes towards Alphys.

"U-um, h-hey, I'm Alphys and I-i'm the Royal Scientist, I think. My m-magic is, uh."

Her grip on her tail hardens.

"Relax Alphys, you don't have to share if you don't want to," you assure. "So, now that we've gotten to know each other, how about we start with some meditation."

A blue arm is raised.

"Yes, Undyne?"

"What's meditation?"

"Meditation is when you relax yourself and try to find your center, a sort of, exploration of the soul. It's a popular human tradition."

"So how do we meditate?" Toriel wonders.

"We can start off by finding something more comfortable to sit on."

"So human schools are just sitting around being comfortable? Awesome," Undyne cheers.

"Not really, this is unfortunately an exception rather than the rule," you explain as you start opening the various cabinets in the room looking for something more relaxing to use. No luck, they're filled with various instrument and books. At least you can use them for other lessons.

"What about this door?" Undyne asks, tugging at the handle of a door at the back of the classroom.

"Oh, I was told not to open that," Toriel answers.

"No reason?" you question.

"No."

"Huh. So no key?"

"I'm afraid not, child."

"I see," you hum out before walking back behind the teacher's desk. It is littered with various papers and documents, you make an effort not to read any of them. Come on, one of them must have, aha! Nice, another one just beside it! You hold the paperclips high in triumph.

"What are those for?" Undyne questions, her fingers scratching her forehead.

"I'm guessing you can't make a key out of your magic and that Toriel don't want us knocking the door down with her magic, or with a large spear."

"That's true. I don't want to us breaking something and risk getting thrown out," Toriel agrees. "But what are you going to do with those metal clips?"

"Isn't it obvious?" you say as you bend the one metal thread straight. This is a familiar situation to you.

The clip slides in at the top of the lock.

"I'm gonna pick the lock."

"But, that's dangerous. Someone can see us! This was a bad idea, let's just go home," you said as you bounced nervously in front of your school's exit.

"Oh no, I'm not letting my sibling walk home with an F they don't deserve. We'll just add a line at the bottom and then we'll go," you brother explained calmly as he concentrated on the worn out lock.

"But what if a guard spots us? They'll call the police."

He stopped picking.

"You honestly think that this is the first time I've done this? That our school can afford to hire guards?" he asked loudly to prove his point.

"Y-you've done this before?"

"Pfft, plenty! I know this lock inside out, it's not even a challenge," he boasted. "And you know what?" he continued.

"What?" you had replied with a worried voice.

"It's better if you do it. You're gonna need this skill, trust me."

"B-b-but."

"None of that please, big brother has decided," he informed as he handed you the simple tools. "And big brother decided that you're mature enough. First."

"We apply pressure to one side using the bottom clip," you explain to your audience.

"Then you rattle the upper clip back and forth, if you're lucky, a pin might snap in place," he'd continued with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Unfortunately we didn't get lucky so we need to do it the hard way," you continue, feeling your friends' curious eyes in the back of your neck. A piece of Undyne's hair is resting on your shoulder. You brush it off.

"The end of that clip has a small bent in the front, use it to feel where the pin falls into place. Start from the back and work your way towards yourself. Your grip is slipping, you need to pull a bit harder so that the pins stay up," he explained as your finger slipped.

You pull harder, feeling the ring that you made around your finger dig deeper into your finger.

"Did you hear that, that's the sound of a tumbler being unlocked, normal locks have about six of them," he congratulated with a smile.

"Cool," says Undyne.

"Sure is," he replied.

The ring is digging deeper and deeper as you continue. Your finger is bright red and is starting to feel numb.

"I know that it hurts but you're very close now. I've counted five pins," he reassured you after many agonizing minutes.

The pressure disappears as the last pin snaps into position causing the bottom clip to rotate with the lock, opening the door.

"See, told you, now, how to get into the cabinet?" he wondered as you two entered the darkened hallway.

"The key is in the desk," you remind him.

"Then why did you this then?" Undyne questions.

"Because I wanted to see what's behind it," you answer.

"But you said that the key is in the desk? This was much cooler though, you have to teach me this later," Undyne smiles while bumping your shoulder.

"Did I say that out loud? Never mind, let's see what's inside," you reply as you rub away the hit.

The room inside is dark, and you fumble the wall for a light switch. The sight of felted chairs and bean bags greets you, and you smile back.

"Perfect," you exclaim. You take a bean bag for yourself and invite the others to help themselves with whatever they want.

Toriel picks a felted chair while Undyne decides to share the biggest bean bag she can find with Alphys. You make a triangle in front of the desk.

"Now I want you to close your eyes and lean back into your chair. Shake your arms, get some of that excess energy off of you. Close your eyes and take a deep breath," you start after your class settles in their newfound seats. The sound of different shaped mouths breathing creates a sort of orchestra. Kinda. "Now, relax. Feel your heart pumping your blood. Feel it as it travels inside you. Just, be one with yourself."

You take your own advice and judging by the silence the others follow as well. You feel your heart in your fingers, you feel your rib cage expanding and you feel your tongue resting inside your mouth. You feel something else too, something, weird, sorta like, an aura or something.

It surrounds you, confining you in an energy you've never felt before. Is this, magic? You try to command it but you're not sure how. It doesn't respond. It just, exists there, with you. Your feel your curiosity grow with each passing second and after a couple you can't take it anymore. You open one eye slightly. A stunning picture hits your retina.

Toriel has a white heart hovering outside her chest, but it's not made of flesh, it's made of energy. The same energy that's around you? The heart is pulsing. It expands and contracts in a rhythm you can't put your finger on. It's not like a beating heart. She seems untouched by the phenomena.

You turn your head towards Undyne and Alphys. They're cuddled up against each other, one arm behind the other one's back and the other hand locked together. They're missing the floating heart but they have the same glow. It starts off in one color and mixes in the middle creating a beautiful display. Are they, together, in soul? Should you be watching?

You also notice that their glow is leaking, onto you. Toriel's is doing the same. What does that mean? Are you all linked? Can they feel you? You feel honored by their action, if it was conscious. You also feel ashamed, you're just receiving it, but you can't feel yourself giving something back. You decide to ride the high and focus on what it feels like. It feels, nice, you think, yes, definitely nice.

A loud bell snaps you awake and you see the glow disappear as you lunge your eyes open. Like a flash the glow leaves the room dark for a moment before your eyes readjust themselves. The bell continues.

"Sorry, it's mine," Toriel says while blushing as she answers her phone.

"HELLO, TORIEL! THE KIDS ARE NOW SAFE BACK HOME WITH THEIR PARENTS! I'LL BE BACK TOMORROW TO PICK THEM UP AGAIN!" Papyrus informs. His voice is leaking from the phone.

"Thank you again Papyrus, I'll see you later."

"IF UNDYNE IS THERE PLEASE THANK HER FOR THE TRAINING SHE GAVE ME EARLIER!"

Toriel looks at Undyne for an explanation, but she is met by a rolling eyeball.

"If I meet her I promise I'll do that," she reassures.

The phone closes.

"So human, while we were meditating, did you feel something, weird?"

"You're talking about the glowing?"

"I think so."

"You've never felt something like that before?"

Her head lowers.

"Not something I want to talk about."

"Was it embarrassing for you? Did I do something wrong?" you worryingly ask. Did you infringe on them somehow?

"Don't make me repeat myself, please," she pleads.

"I just want to know whether or not to use it in my teaching, that's all," you try to explain again but her head stays lowered in thought.

"No, it was not embarrassing. It was comfortable."

"For us too," Undyne adds.

"It's just that, it reminds me of something that I'd rather not go back too," she says quietly while rubbing her arm with the other.

"Was it because of the fact that I'm human? Did I, interrupt some flow of magic or something?"

"No, on the contrary," she lifts up her head, two dark lines are going down her cheeks. "You added something."

"So does this mean that I can include it in my lessons?"

She stands up with her head still lowered, "No."

"Why not?" you ask with a raised voice as you shoot up from your chair.

"I'm sorry human, it's my fault, I shouldn't have been so quick. You can't teach the kids magic."

"W-what?"

"Alphys will teach them, I'm sorry human," she states without looking at you.

"That's not fair! You said that I added to the experience and now you're just going to steal my idea?"

"I can't risk jeopardizing the kids."

"What do you mean jeopardizing? I would never harm them! I let you sleep in my house. I trust you," you confront with your hand towards her.

"I'm sorry, I just can't risk," she tries to explain while shifting around uncomfortably, still avoiding your eyes.

"You're hiding something! The thing I added, what was it?" you demand.

"Human, don't," Undyne starts.

"Don't step in my way Undyne, stay out of this," you threaten. She's taken back by what you said, good. "Is it because I'm human, Toriel?"

"Yes."

You stumble backwards. "Yes?" You feel your face return to a normal expression. Your flexed cheeks relaxes, letting blood back into circulation.

"I thought that human influence on monsters was rare. That only a handful could do it, but, it seems like all humans have this ability."

"But, what if I learn to control it?" you try to save.

"With the kids? No, out of the question. I have to stay firm on that," she explains firmly.

"Can't I teach something else, Alphys was supposed to teach science right? Maybe we can swap?"

"Seeing as science is based on magic, no," Undyne scoffs out.

"No, it's not," you scoff back.

"Yes, it is," Undyne counters, seemingly unaware of your previous threat.

"OK, then what is electricity?" you ask with a smug grin.

"M-magic," Alphys answers.

"Why does some things float and other things sink?" you ask with a less smug grin.

"Magic floats, if you have magic, you can float," Undyne explains.

"Why do you need to breathe and eat?" you ask with a furrowed brow.

"To refresh our magic, it's not s-something we can naturally produce," Alphys says.

"But what if you don't use magic? Like say, a human?" you ask with an eyebrow raised.

"Then y-you eat because, hm," Alphys tries to explain before placing her hand on her chin.

"So this means that everything you know about science is based on magic?" you ask the group.

"Yes, Alphys is the smartest monster and she only uses magic in her science experiments. It's what we've always done," Undyne gleefully explains.

Interesting.


	11. If only they had a cafeteria

"And that is why it hurts when you punch a wall, the wall punches back with equal force," you end, and turn around to see three jaws in various amount of open. Toriel's is somewhat open, eyebrows lowered in thought. Alphys' is closed, also in deep thought. Undyne's is wide open in a yawn, can't win them all.

You let the information sink in for a while while you clean your hands. You leave another light gray sink after you, this time it's ink, and return behind the desk.

"Any questions?" you wonder.

No answer.

"Alright then, class dismissed. Was that good Toriel?"

Still no answer.

"Toriel?"

A shaky hand is raised.

"Yes, Alphys?"

"S-so, the world is made of, small pebbles?"

"In a sense yes, small pebbles filled with mostly nothing."

"M-mostly?" she stutters out with fear in her voice.

"The pebbles are actually made of smaller pebbles and depending on how those smaller pebbles spin we get the bigger pebbles."

A pained sound can be heard from the white coated lizard.

"But that is more advanced physics, I will stick to the more normal. If I get to teach that is," you reassure to Toriel. Her fist is covering her mouth and her eyes are narrow.

"I-i never knew, our system worked, it explained everything," Alphys tries to explain.

"You used magic, these theories are made without magic just, naked observations."

"But you said you used microscopes and computers!" Undyne says, interrupting her own snore.

"Well yeah, but they were built as an extension, to help us, they were not the main explanation," you defend while twirling the marker between your fingers.

"Heavy stuff, human!"

"And why is it heavy, Undyne?" you smirk with your marker pointed at her.

"Because we are, you know, heavy, because we have matter and that matter is drawn to bigger, and... Eh, you nerds with your nerd speak," Undyne tries to explain making a number of different gestures with her hands.

"You know the spirit of it, doesn't that make you a nerd?"

"A nerd doesn't have time to grow these!" she smiles, flexing her arms.

You laugh with her before turning to Toriel again. "What about you Toriel, what do you think about this? Exciting, huh?"

She answers after a couple of seconds. "You can fly?"

"We have machines that can make us fly, no magic, just plenty of speed."

"Above the clouds?"

"Higher, we have people in space right now."

"That is, really amazing human. You have to tell me more," she smiles out.

"I've told you pretty much everything I know from the top of my head but I'm sure that there's more to learn on the internet. But I need an answer, Toriel, can I teach science or not?"

"If you can make our kids as wide eyed as we are right now."

"With a bit of practice yes, I think so, but I'm afraid we have to rewrite the curriculum," you say while waving her book in the air.

"It appears so."

"I think it's an amazing idea," Undyne exclaims.

"You were asleep," you retort.

"But I could still explain something."

"Fair enough."

"Y-yes, Toriel, didn't you say that y-you wanted the kids to be taught above ground?"

"Alphee, good job, you stood up again," Undyne exclaims.

"I know, s-sorry," Alphys apologizes while tapping her claws.

Undyne lets out an annoyed grunt.

"I did didn't I? Well then, child, can you come in tomorrow with the new curriculum or do you need some more time?" Toriel asks you.

"I have it on my desk at home," you answer.

"Wonderful," she comments as she stands up from her desk. Another creak can be heard. Undyne cheers and hugs Alphys.

"Which means Alphys is teaching magic," Toriel continues.

"Yes she is! My cuddlesaur is going to be a magic teacher!" Undyne cheers as her hugs become harder.

"At what time tomorrow?" you ask.

"I'll have Papyrus pick you up around eight or so," Toriel promises.

"Oh, thank you."

You erase the whiteboard and help the others move the bean bags back into the room, it locks by itself. You massage your finger. It still hurts so you're happy you don't need to lock it. You rearrange the desks and head outside to the lobby.

Deep, rumbling snores can be heard as you enter the lobby. At first you thought that they were lightning strikes from the storm.

"Asgore!" Undyne exclaims to Toriel's dismay.

The snores stop and an equally deep yawn starts, "Howdy friends," he says after rubbing his eyes. "I saw your note Undyne, and I've managed to get you and Alphys another house. Unfortunately there's going to be a clause in the contract."

Undyne stares at him dumbfounded. She looks down at Alphys and raises Alphys' hand in the air. She points at a claw with a quizzical look towards Asgore.

"No, clause," he articulates harder and slower, each letter sweeping the room like a wave of thick syrup.

She waves the claw.

"A catch, something you have to keep in mind," Toriel explains.

"Yes, thank you, dear. Toriel," he corrects. "You see, the fire you started caused a bit of a stir in the human community. First there was a fire and now there is a storm, word spreads."

"That's stupid," you comment.

"Maybe, but it's drawing attention. Unwanted attention. Undyne, I'm afraid I have to hire someone to teach you how to cook."

"And who would dare teach me to cook differently?" Undyne boasts. Her face loosens in realization and her eyes darts back and forth on Asgore, searching for a clue that it could be someone else. She doesn't seem to find anything as a blue spear forms in anxiety. Its energy is unstable, flickering. "Tell me it isn't him!" she commands.

"I'm sorry Undyne, I can't have you burning houses down anymore, not up here."

"I can change," she yells out in fear.

"I know you can, Undyne, but you'll need to change somewhere safe."

"Alone! Not with him! He'll try and kill me." Her voice is starting to shake, it's scaring Alphys. "I won't let him though!"

"No, he won't, and you know that," Asgore retorts in an attempt to calm Undyne. It doesn't work and sweat starts to form on Undyne's forehead. Her head is checking every corner looking for, him, you presume.

"B-but-"

"No, Undyne. New chapter," Asgore reminds Undyne.

"YES, UNDYNE, NEW CHAPTER!" enters Papyrus.

"No!" Undyne yells as she throws her spear towards the sound.

With a speed you couldn't imagine Asgore flings himself across the room. He catches the spear and his mantle, beard and ears flows like water as he suddenly stops. It disperses in his hand and a shockwave of air hits you shortly after.

"THANK YOU, ASGORE, I BROUGHT HIM WITH ME AS YOU ASKED!"

"Brought who?" Undyne asks, sweat now pouring from every pore.

"Oh, darling. You couldn't guess?" a robotic voice asks. A metal hand opens the other side of the double door. The body hidden under a large and glittery umbrella. What it fails to hide is a single wheel holding them up.

"Not you!" Undyne curses.

"Aw, Undy, we can't be having that kind of attitude if we're to work together," the voice speaks as it shakes off the rain from its umbrella. You still can't quite see the face of it.

"Please Asgore, I'll do anything," Undyne pleads.

"This is anything, Undy. Now are you going to make me flip my button, or are you going to listen to me like a good employee?" The voice lowers its umbrella revealing, a box, a metal box, a metal box with a face of various colored rectangles.

"You deranged pile of junk!" Undyne screams as another spear colors the lobby cyan as it travels. With just a subtle movement of his hand Asgore interrupts it, again.

"Undyne," he starts with a sigh, spear sizzling away in his grasp. "I know that this is hard for you and I'm afraid that I have to insist."

"I will never work for him," Undyne interrupts.

"You won't, you'll work for me, because I'm ordering you to go with him."

Silence. Asgore's gaze is hard locked on Undyne. She lowers her head, but keeps her fists balled in fury.

"Yes, my king. I'll go with Mettaton," she sighs in defeat.

"Touching! Now let's go," Mettaton hurries, gripping an extended arm around Undyne's legs. She falls down and is dragged across the floor. Her expression quickly transforms to annoyance and she crosses her arms to reinforce her mood. With his other hand Mettaton flips open the umbrella.

"Don't let that face stick Undy darling, the show starts in half an hour. Papyrus, could you be a sweetie and drive us to MTT Resort?"

"ONLY IF THE KING-"

"Please drive them to the resort, Papyrus," Asgore interrupts.

"THEN OFF WE GO!"

The three of them disappear into the rain and Asgore closes the doors with a sigh of relief.

"Is she going to be alright?" you ask worryingly.

"Undyne? Don't worry, she's just making a scene. I would never put her in harms way," Asgore answers warmly.

"You would never put the leader of the royal guard in harms way?" Toriel retorts coldly.

"Never without a good reason, if that's what you mean. Anyway, how did the schooling go?"

"If you must know, good. The kids are happy to be taught and tomorrow I will have help," Toriel says, sweeping her hand towards you and Alphys.

Asgore's eyes narrows. "Can I speak privately with you Toriel?"

"I don't see a reason why we can't speak here."

Asgore mimics a word, you can't tell which. Toriel puts a hand on her mouth.

"Alphys, human, please excuse us."

The two goats make their way into the classroom, closing the door behind them. You fight your urge to eavesdrop.

"Any idea what they could be talking about?" you ask Alphys.

"N-nope."

You can't tell if she is stammering because she is lying or if she is just stammering like normal. You feel that you're too hungry to try to wring it out of her and make your way towards the snack machine.

"Want anything?" you ask as you dig for some spare change.

"N-no thanks," she lies very poorly. You can easily tell that she said that to be nice.

"I heard your stomach rumble before, and don't worry about money. You left far too much, it's only fair if I pay back. Come now," you try to convince. She thinks for a bit before she shambles over to you.

"W-what can I pick?"

"Anything," you offer as you sweep your hand in front of the machine.

"There's so much."

"I know, I'm thinking as well."

You hand Alphys some spare change. The humming dispenser stands tall and robust, waiting for a chance to spring into life and deliver delicious, unhealthy nutrients. To be fair it also houses an apple. A wide range of assorted drinks is arranged before you ranging from water to risky flavors of soda. The solid selection is equally as diverse, row upon row of plastic packages containing everything from chocolate bars to carrot chips flavored with vanilla.

You jingle the change in your pocket in an attempt to speed up the choice making process, it has no effect. You feel your voice box vibrating as you think, it produces a sound similar to the compact store.

The sound of coins being dispensed forces your hand, this thinking have gone for far too long. The machine clanks and whirs in excitement. A pack of potato chips falls down the chute too fast for you to catch the flavor. Alphys bends down for her prize and makes her way to the seats. You do a last glance at the selection. You pick a chocolate bar with caramel filling. Another thud fills the room and you seat yourself next to Alphys.

"You don't have vending machines down under?" you ask as you unwrap the chocolate.

"One, b-but," she starts. She crumbles the package and shifts in her chair.

"Don't sweat it," you try to save. She seems relieved and you give her a smile. She returns it and continue with her eating, despite having claws she picks up every piece with pinpoint precision and care. It contrasts your primitive bites.

"So are you and Undyne dating?" you ask as you shift the piece in your mouth to your cheek.

"Yes," she blushes out.

"You are a cute couple."

"T-thank you," she thanks with even redder cheeks.

"How long have you been dating?" you continue.

"A couple of days."

"Days? You two are acting like you've been dating for months. Monster love?"

She snorts as she laughs.

"Monster love it is," you inform the empty lobby.

"Y-yeah, she's really cool."

"If you don't mind me saying, you two are the perfect opposite."

"They say so, yeah," she nods.

"Do you think so?"

"I, uh, um, I guess," she shrugs.

"Good enough for me."

Some time passes before you notice the clock.

"They've been in there for a while now," you comment with your lips pouted in annoyance. The chocolate didn't really do much for your hunger.

"M-must be important."

"You're not angry with me by the way?"

"Why would I be that?" she asks with a confused look.

"Because I took your job."

"N-no, it's fine, really. I kinda want to get away from science. Magic is better," she explains.

"You promise?"

"Y-yes."

"Pinky promise?"

You're surprised that she knows the ritual, but now you're convinced that things are calm between you. The sound of the rain and distant thunder almost lulls you to sleep but you're woken up by an elbow in your side. Asgore and Toriel have returned.

"Human, Toriel told me that your human science differs from our science. Could you please explain?" Asgore asks of you with his hands clamped together.

You look at the clock again, it's an hour past dinner and you can feel it though the chocolate dampens it, but only a little bit. "How much do you want explained?"

"As much as you can," Asgore pleads.

Your stomach rumbles as you ask him to be more specific. You calm it with your hand.

"Asgore, can't you do this tomorrow, they need to eat. They've done enough for today," Toriel says.

"We can probably get this done quickly if Asgore could specify what he wants to know," you explain, shooting a pair of eyes at Asgore.

"I can't really be that specific unfortunately, but it is important."

Your stomach rumbles again.

"Right, Alphys?" he says while looking at her.

"Y-yes."

So she did know.

"How important?" you pry.

"Important enough that I'm willing to bring an outsider in. Half an hour, please."

You massage your forehead and sigh. You motion for the classroom. "Half an hour tops, but I could explain it better tomorrow."

"I need the information now, I'm afraid."

You pass a trash can and throw your wrapper. Two gasps echo through the lobby as you drop it and you turn around to see Asgore and Toriel frozen. You look down and see that you missed and you pick it up and force it down the can. Why the gasps? It's not like you missed on purpose. You place yourself back behind the desk. Two chairs creak as Toriel and Asgore sit down.

"So, what do you want to know?"

"Electricity," Asgore says.

"What about it?"

"How does it work?"

"Well, basically it's tiny tiny particles pushing each other. We use it to transfer energy from one place to another. One of our greatest discoveries," you start. The wrinkles on Asgore's forehead becomes deeper and deeper as you continue explaining.

"So, no magic?"

"No magic," you remind him. You feel that you've now exhausted the energy from the chocolate.

"What about your phones?"

"Powered by electricity," you remind him, again.

"Yes, and how do they work?"

"That's gonna take way more than half an hour to explain," you inform him.

"How do you send your information?" he pries.

"The theory behind it is sorta the same but instead of electricity we send beams of signals."

"And the signals are made of?"

"Light," you quip out.

"Light?"

"Yup."

"How?"

"I think that I might've overestimated how long I can actually do this."

"No magic, whatsoever?"

"No! No magic! No soul. Why do you ask?" you say with a raised voice. Your hunger is catching up on you.

"But how do you?"

"Science!" you interrupt. Yup, it has caught up alright.

"Understand, human, science for the monsters means magic. For us science is interwoven with magic," Asgore replies, his voice is still were it started, calm and concerning.

"Yes, I know. Sorry, for us it means the opposite of magic." You feel bad for raising your voice. You've gone over this once already and this time you're hungry. What does he want? Why can't he just tell you? You let out a sigh. "Asgore, I feel that we're not going to come to any form of sense. Just tell me what you want. If it is so important I swear on my death that I won't tell anyone."

He shifts his eyes from Alphys to Toriel and lastly to you.

"It's classified."

"Of course it is," you sigh, again.

"I wish I could say more."

"When you said you wanted to bring an outsider in," you remind him.

"Later."

"Great," you lie.

"Asgore, please, I told you this wouldn't work," Toriel enters.

"You told me the human knew their science, that they could explain it well."

"They can, but you're not giving them the chance," Toriel defends.

"You know why I'm cautious, Toriel."

"Damn well I do!"

"Please!" you interrupt. "Asgore, can't you just look this up on the internet?"

"We don't have that in our houses yet," he explains.

"You don't have a human phone or something?"

"No."

Screw it! You're too hungry to care. You fish out your phone and throw it to Asgore. He's startled by the action, but he manages to catch it.

"Use mine tonight. Just bring it back here tomorrow. I've got internet on it, just search away. I'm going home," you hastily explain as you exit the classroom.

"But-"

You yell back your password to unlock your phone.

"No, what about?"

But you're already halfway down the lobby. You throw on your outer layer and march out into the pouring downfall and slam the door behind you.

You can feel every raindrop that lands on your aching head. Thousand of little needles each one weathering away at your patience. He can't just ask you to explain and then not say what needs explaining, stupid. You lift an arm in front of you in an attempt to see the street sign as the rain is just allowing you around a meter of vision. It ricochets off your arm and onto your eyes worsening what you tried to improve.

A pothole surprises you while you wipe your eyes causing you to flinch with your knee. Not good. Your hands catch your fall but you prepared for the ground to be farther away, and now your elbows are hurting as well. You regain your footing and wipe off your dirty hands, the soars stay unfortunately. Why you? A scream is forming, and you allow it to. You curse, and it is loud, and it feels good, and it hurts, but it was necessary.

"you seem to be feeling a little under the weather." A pleased laughter follows. You turn to see an umbrella flicker as the street light above it wakes up. A white smile is barely visible under it.

"Oh, hello, Sans. You heard that?" you sigh out.

"yes."

The sound of the silence between you drowns out the sound of the rain.

"heading home?"

"Trying to," you say while inspecting your hands.

"i'll keep you company," he offers with his hand.

"Back? Aren't you also on your way home?" you ask as you take it.

"i'll call papyrus and ask him to pick me up."

"You sure?"

"he'll come. he's cool like that. here, it's better if you hold it," he assures and hands you his umbrella. You grab it and try to position it so it covers the both of you. Sans hands disappear into his pockets, they seem to have a home there. You can still feel every raindrop but at least now they're confined to your hand.

"so, heard you got a new job," Sans starts after a couple of minutes.

"Yes, but how did you? Wait, let me guess, monster secret?"

"you learn fast, let's just hope you can translate that into teaching," Sans nods.

"Seeing how Alphys and the rest reacted, might be difficult," you explain with a shrug.

"the kids are smart, try at least."

"Yeah sure, it will be interesting," you assure.

"oh it will. speaking of interesting, the first lesson."

"Now you're creeping me out, Sans."

A distant thunder lights up the street.

"and you're too hungry to guess how."

You stop dead in your tracks.

"OK, Sans, enough! This is too much. I'm starting to get scared. Seriously, how do you know this?"

"i'm gonna throw you a bone. heh. papyrus told me about your lesson and asgore told him before that. the hunger part i could guess myself," he confesses.

"So, no monster secret?"

"not this time."

The rain weakens.

"as i was saying, the first lesson, you used magic?" he pries.

"I don't think so. I felt something from Toriel, Undyne, and Alphys, but it was just around me not, in me."

He nods, "and how did it feel?"

"It felt, good. I've never felt something like it before. It was warm, comforting, pleasant. Like sitting around a warm fire with your best friends," you remember.

"nice to hear."

"Try to remember that you are a skeleton Sans. I can see right through you," you confront him.

"classic. now, why wouldn't i be thrilled over humans discovering magic again? worked so well for us last time," he sarcastically explains.

"Fair point."

"but i'm not above having a magic human as a friend. who knows, they could maybe teach me something."

"Just give me a call and I'll gladly teach you everything I know," you propose.

"so asgore told you about that."

"His plans you mean? Nope. You know anything about that?"

"not my place to tell," he shrugs out.

"A hint at least, give me one and I'll call it even on you drinking all of my ketchup."

"you drive a hard bargain, ok. asgore knows more."

"Yes, I know, but the hint?"

"it was the hint. asgore knows more."

"You're a mean pile of bone, my friend."

"you might not appreciate it now, but i'm trying to be better at one of those things."

"Another hint?" you beg.

"i only drank one bottle. the other one was payed for by toriel, remember?"

"You are leaning towards mean pile right now."

"like i said, in the future you will appreciate it. see it as a long term investment," he tries to convince.

"I want to believe you but right now, I'm too hungry to think."

"good thing you're almost home. see, just a block to go."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed."

How did you get there so fast? Usually it takes way longer to walk.

"good thing i came with you, otherwise you would've walked down to the underground."

"Maybe. Thank you Sans for distracting my brain from my stomach."

"just say the word."

"Ketchup?" you ask with a raised eyebrow.

"pretty sure that would work, yes."

You share a laugh and give back his umbrella. You wave goodbye and unlock your door. Home, finally. Now, let's get to eating.


	12. Hot air

"Again, I must thank you for these sunglasses."

"Don't worry about it, Toriel. I had no use for them anyway. They fit you, brings out the monster so to speak."

You join her in a shared laugh and take another sip of your drink. Despite having lived all your life above ground you think that if the weather holds you might get a pair of your own. The sun is really strong today, or is it her white fur? You put a up a hand over your eyes so you can see better.

Lots of couples enjoying the weather today, humans and monsters drinking soda. If someone would have told you a couple of weeks ago. A red monster with four arms excuses himself and you slide your chair closer to the table so that he can pass. He serves his friends, two muscular guys and a blue monster, two arms on that one. You take another sip.

"What was it you wanted to tell me, Toriel?" you ask as you take another sip.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she says, leaning closer to you under the parasol. She places her hand over yours. "I heard what happened to your family. The...accident."

"How did you find out?"

She places a finger on your lips. She lowers it slowly and her claw flicks your lower lip. "That's not important. What's important is that you're here, alive. I trust you, human, never forget it."

"O-of course, Toriel, I trust you too."

"Good," she winks at you. You feel like you're missing some context. "As you may have noticed, Asgore and I are in a bit of a, disagreement about our involvement with you humans."

"Like the thing he refused to discuss," you guess.

"Among other things."

"Example?"

She moves in closer, her other hand caresses your cheek with her thumb massaging your lobe. "Our feelings against the humans," she starts, her voice soft as velvet and warm like the blazing sun above you. "The thing is, you might have guessed that me and Asgore have been married before, and that because of certain circumstances-"

"You are no longer together," you finish for her. You feel your face getting warmer. Her eyes are locked with your, a beautiful pair of darkly colored sapphires stares deep into you filling you with comfort. "W-why?" you ask, mesmerized by her gaze, yet you're making no attempt to fight it.

"He was lacking one thing." She leans in closer, you feel her fur on her head brush you by. "Humanity," she whispers.

"I s-see," you stutter out with bright red cheeks.

"And I think I've met just the person that could satisfy this, need."

Before you can answer you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder, a big hand.

"What are you doing with my woman?" a burly voice asks.

"Hello, love, I'm so happy you could come," Toriel smiles.

"And what is this? Why are you with this human?" the burly voice confronts.

"Stop it you, you don't need to scare them."

"I'm just kidding, they know I am," the burly voice laughs.

"Still, no need."

"And what's with you? You look like you've just seen a ghost," he says, finger pointed at you.

"D-dad?" you yell out.

"Why else would I call you child, child?" Toriel asks.

"I d-don't know, I though you were just being- No! Dad! You are dead! I saw you! I buried you. How?" you ask in confusion.

"Human!" Toriel shouts.

"W-what?"

"Human!" Dad shouts.

"Why are you screa-"

"HUMAN!"

You toss yourself away from the screams and your cover bundles you up causing you to fall down off your bed in a flail of limbs and cloth.

"GOOD MORNING, HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL HELP YOU TRAVEL TO YOUR NEW JOB! NOW PLEASE, FOLLOW ME!" Papyrus happily exclaims.

"Papyrus, how, how did you get in?" you ask, feeling that some panic is attached to the words. You unravel yourself from your sheet and peek your head above the bed frame. "Could you please wait outside?"

"MY HELP ALWAYS COMES WITH PROTECTION! I'LL STAND GUARD FOR ANY UNRULY INTRUDER!"

He leaves the room and closes the door. You can hear him walking back and forth and the occasional quip. You sink back on the cold wooden floor and run your hand through your hair. A deep sigh slips out of you. You didn't need that dream, not a bit. You feel that it's gonna haunt you. Fantastic, just what you need right now. You sit for a while before you can muster the strength to stand up. Clothes, gonna get some clothes.

"NOTHING TO REPORT, HUMAN!" Papyrus reports, mitten in a perfect salute.

"Thank you, Papyrus," you smile while buttoning the top button on your shirt.

"TORIEL TOLD ME YOU LEFT HUNGRY YESTERDAY, AND AS THE GOOD FRIEND THAT I AM!"

Please don't. No spaghetti.

"I WILL MAKE SURE THAT YOU GET A HEARTY BREAKFAST! NOW WALK DOWNSTAIRS, YOU GOT SOME EATING TO DO!"

"If I must," you nod.

"YES, YOU DO, IT IS AN ORDER FROM THE QUEEN!"

"Monster queen, she has no authority over me," you correct.

The realization hits Papyrus square on the jaw, and his chin disappears in his mitten. He bends over, putting the weight of his skull in his hand. He starts massaging it while thinking hard. "YOU ARE CORRECT, HUMAN! HOW WILL I NOW GET YOU TO EAT BREAKFAST?"

"She is my boss now," you remind him.

"YES! SHE IS, HUMAN! YOUR BOSS ORDERS YOU TO ENJOY BREAKFAST, AND YOU MUST OBEY HER!"

"Yes, I must," you agree. "Shall we?"

You motion towards the stairs. Papyrus nods and rushes down them and you follow him, still fiddling with that damn button. You manage to button it as you reach the lower floor. You're blinded by four beams of light from the top of the door. Damn, you forgot about them. Papyrus is already in the kitchen, head lodged deeply in your cupboards. His distressed voice calls out to you.

"HUMAN, PLEASE REMAIN CALM! YOU'RE OUT OF SPAGHETTI!"

Guess you forgot about that as well when you shopped yesterday.

"I'll survive."

"YOU SURE? WOW, YOU HUMANS ARE RESILIENT!"

You move him aside and ask him to arrange the table outside. He gleefully accepts. With him out of the way you start thinking about what you want. Nothing really, the amount of food you ate yesterday could maybe carry you to lunch. Better not risk it, you've already burned enough bridges.

You arrange a simple breakfast and carry it outside. Papyrus has the table set and ready. You place the food down and excuse yourself for a second and make your way to check on your planks. A makeshift tent is covering the planks. It's your new cover. You disassemble it to find your wall redder than ever. You laugh through your nose, that short skeleton sure is something else. You hang up the cover to dry on the patio rail and seat yourself next to Papyrus.

"WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS?" Papyrus asks while shoving his bowl in your face.

"Porridge with milk," you answer with a wrinkled nose, not because of the smell, it is just that your nose is less than a centimeter from said porridge.

"IT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE SPAGHETTI!" He takes a bite. "BUT IT TASTES LIKE IT!"

"I guess that's why you have sauce on."

"THE PORRIDGE?"

"No, never, please."

You eat for some time before you remember.

"Um, Papyrus, how did you get in?"

"SANS SAID THAT THE PATIO DOOR WAS OPEN!"

"It was?" you ask with a wrinkled forehead.

"YES!"

"I could have sworn I locked it yesterday," you try to remember. Evidently you didn't. You make a mental note to lock it this time and finish eating. You put the dishes in water and tell Papyrus to wait in the car while you get your stuff. You are in the process of stuffing everything down your backpack as you see it.

"What. Is. That?"

"MY CAR! DO YOU LIKE IT?"

"You drove the kids home, in that?"

"NOT A PROBLEM, I LOWERED THE ROOF!" he explains.

"In the rain?"

"THE KIDS MADE AN EXCELLENT UMBRELLA!" he explains again.

"How fast does it go?"

"VERY!"

You run your fingers against the red, metallic hull and see your reflection smiling back at you. Beautifully restored, leather seats, folding roof. You feel goosebumps on your arms. The door welcomes you with a silent creak and the seat molds itself around your body as it embraces you.

The sound of the key being inserted fills you with anticipation. He turns it. An orchestra of eight deep, pounding cylinders shakes the car and your bones conducts the sound. You enjoy every vibration.

He taps the gas and the engine roars in delight. He taps it again, producing another equally pleased roar. The sound of the first gear clanking into place almost causes your anticipation to overflow. He releases the clutch, and you fly away. Well, not technically but with the wind in your hair and face you don't feel the difference. The suspension helps too in the suspension, of disbelief. You don't feel a single bump, you're just gliding through the streets, like a low flying plane.

Every turn means another g force and Papyrus counters it like a pro, the car is an extension of him rather than merely a tool. As you come up to the Town Hall's parking lot he smoothly and gracefully stops and the engine becomes restless, screaming for more action, but he silences it, and a whimper echoes out as the engine stops.

"HERE WE ARE, HUMAN! TORIEL SHOULD BE INSIDE!"

"Thank you, Papyrus. This car is, amazing!" you thank him while still riding the high from the ride.

You exit the car and the leather bounces back to its natural state causing you to feel somewhat rejected by its actions. You wave goodbye and stand outside for a while to let yourself calm down a bit. Your heart is still racing.

A wave of regret hits you as you enter the lobby and memories from yesterday fills your head. You are at the mercy of Toriel and Asgore now. A bell rings and shortly after the lobby filled with monster kids with a single human sticking out like a, human among monster. You wave to Frisk, and they wave back.The kids around them start whispering and a quiet yo emerges. Like a poorly placed pillar the kids split around you as they head outside. You hear them laugh and scream through a nearby window and you take a peek to satisfy your nostalgia.

"Perfect timing," Toriel interrupts, snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, Toriel, yes, I was just making sure that the kids behaved," you try to save.

"No need for that. Papyrus promised me he would keep the children under control," Toriel reassures.

A scream from Papyrus and the sound of creaking wood and metal follows along with several high pitched laughs.

"I can hear that," you say with a smirk.

Toriel tries to cover up a laugh.

"Shall I go through the curriculum with you before I start?" you ask and retrieve the papers from your backpack.

"Good idea," Toriel answers as she accepts them from you. She skims it through as you follow her into the makeshift classroom.

"About yesterday," you awkwardly ask.

"There's nothing to discuss. What happened was entirely disrespectful and unfortunately I must put some of the blame on you."

"Yeah, I know, I was hungry," you try to explain.

"What's done is done. Let's focus our attention forward."

You nod in agreement, and wait patiently for Toriel to go through the curriculum in her own pace. Once she seems to be done with it, she rings the bell again, and wishes you good luck.

"You can't stay here and observe?" you ask.

"I need to get hold of the next teacher, wherever she is."

"Alphys or Undyne?" you ask to her back, it doesn't answer.

You feel the floor shake, and in swoops a tidal wave of colored characters and clothes. Like clockwork they take their seats, those that can at least. The classroom goes quiet. You take a sip of water to prepare yourself. "Good morning," you say.

"Good morning teacher," they reply. A greeting filled with a wide range of voices, some high, some low.

"So, you know that I'm gonna teach you today and going forward?"

A three fingered hand is raised.

"Yes," you address the volunteer.

"No," they answer.

"Ah, she left the fun part for me. You see, we humans don't know magic, not anymore. So, we had to figure out how the world works." You pause for effect. "Without it."

Eyes pop open, jaws are left hanging and many gasps can be heard. You remind yourself to thank Toriel later.

"Like yesterday, how would you explain the rain falling down and the lightning striking down? Discuss in small groups." As the kids argue you make your way towards the cabinets at the back of the room. You saw something yesterday. Where was it? Ah, there it is. You retrieve a small cooking plate and a lidded pot and carry them back to your desk. You power on the plate, fill the pot with water, and place it on the hot plate with the lid off. You let the kids argue for another minute while the water boils up.

"Time's up! Tell me your theories. I'm eager to hear," you address the class.

No hands.

"Anyone?"

Still no hands, but you can hear some grunting.

"Teacher, over here!"

You scan the classroom and finally spot him. A lizard child, with no arms. You curse yourself silently. "Yes, you, the yellow one, you have an idea?"

"Is it because, I know that the rain in the underground comes from the cracks in the ceiling, that there are cracks up here as well?"

"In a sense, yes, good job."

"Yo, Frisk, I knew it," the monster whispers loudly to Frisk.

"But let me show you!" The water is boiling nicely now. You can start your presentation. "As water evaporates, it travels up, carrying the vapor with it." You rinse the lid in cold water and wipe it dry. "As the vapor comes in contact with something cold." You hold the lid a distance over the pot. "It condenses back into drops," you explain as you make a line in the water with your finger. "So if you have a lot of water say, like an ocean, you get a lot of vapor."

"Where does it get cold?" a child asks.

"In the sky, high up."

"But isn't the sun closer?" another child asks.

"Yes, but the atmosphere is thinner, it holds less heat. So when the vapor reaches that high, it goes back into solid water. It then clumps together with other water drops, forming huge clouds. If this continues they can't hold on anymore. They crack, and the water drops fall, becoming rain," you answer. You look upon your awed audience and take pride in your work. "If we are lucky, we might get some fog tomorrow, it's like the clouds but on the ground."

You can do this all day, you're sure that you'll never tire of their faces as you tell them this. You spend the rest of the lesson trying to gather what they know and what they think they know. Despite having another explanation for their world, they catch up on what you're saying, you even have to stand your ground on some subjects.

Sans were right, smart kids.

You thank the class for being good listeners, and they thank you for being such a good teacher. You can feel your heartstrings being played like an over caffeinated violinist, and you must fight back your tears. They start heading for the door.

"Oh yeah, before you leave. Here's how you can make clouds yourself." The class rushes back to their seats. "Close your mouth hard and blow with your lips closed, you want to build up pressure. Use an arm if you can but it's possible without. You need to blow really hard for a couple of seconds, the longer the better then release your cloud carefully."

You can't help but laugh at the image before you, monsters, tensed up with mouths closed, looking like novelty balloons. As the clouds escape their mouth they cheer, and do it again, more cheers. This continues for a while as you just spectate.

The door is kicked wide open.

"Hello, punks! My name is Undyne, and whipping you all into shape is my game. I need you all outside five minutes ago. Move it!" Undyne commands. Another awed audience but this time they are looking at Undyne. "What is the matter punks? That was an order from the leader of the Royal Guard, now obey!"

Like a sheep herder she watches over her flock, making sure that everyone follows. Then she turns her head towards the black sheep, you.

"I said everyone!"

"Still haven't heard from my doctor, sorry," you explain.

"One day, human, one day," she promises before leaving with a blue spear in her hand. Commands can be heard from outside.

As you clean up Toriel knocks and you invite her in.

"How did the lesson go?" she asks.

"Great, they are very eager to learn."

"Glad to hear that," she says with a smile.

"But since the curriculum is demanding some basic knowledge I think I will spend the week covering as large of an area as I can."

"If you think that is best for them."

"I hope so," you nod while packing up your material.

"I trust you, human, and from what I heard, my trust is not in vain."

"Thank you, headmaster."

"It's Toriel to you, child," she laughs.

You feel goosebumps on your arm. Dammit, just as you predicted. You shake it off.

"Are there more lessons for me today?" you ask as you follow her to the lobby.

"Not scheduled, no, but if you could stay until lunch I would very much enjoy your company."

More bumps, you shake your arm harder.

"Is something the matter, are you injured?" Toriel asks. You think you detect a faint green glow on her hand.

"No, arm fell asleep, didn't mean to alert you," you lie.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me I have to prepare for the next lesson."

She enters another room and leave you standing in the lobby. What now? Maybe you'll figure something out sitting down. You take a seat and reach into your pocket for your phone. It's not there! You feel a rush of adrenaline surge through you as you pat every pocket you have. Nothing, where could it- Oh, right, Asgore has it. No panic, you can do this. You spend some time finding the most comfortable position on the chair. You notice the time from the clock on the wall. The kids are out with Undyne, maybe an hour and then they'll have another lesson with Toriel, which means another hour or so. Two and a half hour is a good estimate. How many minutes did you spend coming up with the estimate? One. So you just need to make the same calculation around, 150 times more. Another minute has now passed, nice. You celebrate by playing a drum beat on your knees. It becomes more irregular with each passing second and you eventually stop. A third minute, perfect. What else? Whistling, yeah, that will surely pass the time. It suffers the same fate as the drumbeat and rapidly devolves into short raspberries. You feel your fingers tingle in boredom and you can't seem to make them interested. They go inside your pockets. Nope. They go on your head. Nope again. They go crossed. Maybe, but that could just be the pressure. You are forced to abandon the pose as you notice how wet your armpits are. To top it all off, now your leg is bouncing. Terrific! Absolutely terrific! Gosh damn isn't this situation terrific! OK, let it out. Now breathe, relax, focus inwards, don't focus on the ticking from the clock. Dammit, you said don't focus on it. Neither on the creaking pipes behind you please if you can. Turns out you can't. It drips and ticks out of rhythm, reminding you of their existence constantly. Why bother? Why bother trying to keep yourself interested, you're just gonna die and then you're be dead for ever. The earth will continue spinning and you'll be long gone before it stops. Hey, at least you got to see some monsters, hell, you even made friends with them ain't that something? You even had a dream about them, that must mean something right, disregarding the content of course. Were those real feelings, inside the dream? No, it was a dream, just a random piece of memory being tinkered with by your subconscious. But it felt real, and it made an impact so? No, you don't have feelings for Toriel, not those kinds of feelings anyway, you think, you hope. Whatever, that's not important, you've got bigger problems. Now, how many minutes have passed? Fifteen. The sigh you exhale could knock down trees. You refill your lungs, and exhale an even deeper sigh. The lack of air in you makes you sink down in the chair and you lie down there for a while, admiring the ceiling. It's gray, and flat, and has a couple of lamps hanging from it, one lamp is crooked and another one is missing a bulb. Cool, coolio, coolish, cool with a side order of fries.

You jump back up in the chair as you hear that the front door is opening. Hooray, stuff is happening! A white muzzle peeks inside and is swiftly followed by the rest of him.

"Howdy, human, glad I caught you here. I have your phone," Asgore says.

The words are like music to your ears.

"So, here it is." He hands you it upside down, whatever, you flip it in your hand, it has a big crack in the middle of the screen. "I'll compensate you for it."

You feel a single tear going down your cheek.


	13. Snails for a plate

"You didn't tell me that it only worked with human fingers, if you would have just stayed."

"But why is there a hole in it?" you ask while removing your tear from your cheek.

"It said tap to wake up," he explains.

You run a finger over it, the glass hurts and makes a cut. You suffer with it.

"Goodnight sweet prince," you pray as you turn it off for the last time. It dies with a gasp. Gasp? Phones don't, oh, that was Asgore, and now he's standing there, looking out into empty space. You wave your hand and try to get his attention. He gives you a worried look.

"I-I, excuse me, human," he excuses himself and rushes out the door. It slams behind him. You didn't even get a chance to explain that you were joking. You probably made him feel bad. You do, if that's any comfort for him.

"Who was that, human?" Toriel says in the classroom doorway.

"Asgore. He gave back my phone," you inform her.

"Good, he was playing with it all evening yesterday, but he couldn't figure out how it worked."

"He managed to break it in the process unfortunately."

Toriel's forehead wrinkles and her brows lowers. "I see," she says with a sinister voice.

"But he promised to compensate for it," you hastily add.

"But that's expected isn't it?" she asks, one brow shooting up.

"Well yeah."

"Glad to see you agreeing with me, you can't give Asgore an inch, he will take every advantage he can get. Take yesterday for an example, if you would've said no he wouldn't have pushed you over the limit. He didn't need to make a fool out of you. You need to hold your ground, learn to say no to him," she explains as she makes her way towards you.

"That sounds rather harsh. He just wanted to know a few things," you ask her with your head bent upward.

"Even a few things are too much to give to that monster, like a sponge his ego inflates with every word given to him."

"He just left, maybe we can catch up to him."

She goes stiff for a second. "No, no need." Her face returns to normal. "How about some lunch instead?" she asks with a warm smile.

"But the next lesson?" you wonder.

"Alphys is on her way."

"Alphys? I don't mean to sound rude, I've only known them for a couple of days, but are you sure you're comfortable with them alone with the kids?"

"She know what waits her if her misbehave," she says staring out the window. Grunts and tame threats echo in from outside.

"I pray I don't need to be informed about it," you comment. "Did you have something in mind for lunch? Anything you want to try? I can get some take out for us."

"I though that maybe we could eat together, at a restaurant perhaps."

You shake your head. "Ah, you see, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"And why would that be?"

You detect a tone of sadness in her voice.

"Toriel, as much as I am fine with the whole monsters being alive and wanting to get back together with us humans I can't be seen hanging around with you, not now. I don't want the unnecessary attention and knowing you, you would talk about how glad you are that you have me as a teacher and how much the kids are learning. That will turn some heads my direction. Trust me on this, Toriel. I'll take you somewhere nice when things are normal, when people are used to you. But that might take some time. We humans are very skeptical towards strangers, and that includes me."

"But you were so open about it, letting us stay in your house," she says with a sad expression on her face.

"I woke up with a concussion and whole bunch of monsters in my house. I had to play along. I feared for my life. You would've done the same if a bunch of humans broke into your house."

"We didn't break in. Undyne told us that you left the door unlocked."

You're sensing a disturbing pattern here. Do they not have doors these monsters? Have they not heard of privacy?

"Doesn't matter, the point is that I hurt my head real bad and then I wake up to discover that literal legends are making lunch in my kitchen. Anyone reasonable would freak out, but I guess my injury turned out for the better," you end with a laugh and knock on your scar. You grunt, the pain surprised you.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No healing, thank you. I trust you, not your magic. Not in my head. Not yet."

"Oh."

That is one powerful oh. You feel it pierce your heart and it leaves you full of regret.

"Maybe you can convince me by practicing on my finger instead."

You show her the cut from the glass. She smiles and envelopes your finger with her hand. It glows green, and you feel warmth enter your finger. She gives it a reassuring rub and hand it back to you. The cut is gone and no scar is visible. She seems happier and her mood bounces to you.

"It felt nice, thank you Toriel. Still no on the head I'm afraid."

"I just want to help," she reminds you.

"I know, Toriel, and I appreciate it immensely. Really, I do, but I can't shake off my prejudice, sorry."

"Perhaps later then."

"I promise I will do my best, Toriel."

An uneasy silence hangs above you. You let it hang for a bit before braking it. "With that out of the way, what are you in the mood for?" you say as happily as you can. You fear that you went too far, she won't answer you. Stupid, so stupid. Couldn't you just say, no I'm not really hungry? Instead you confessed that you didn't really care for them when they arrived. Why don't you tell them that the barrier was a good idea? Or that they should stay underground.

Idiot!

"I don't know, can't you surprise me?"

Oh, never mind then.

"I think I can. Do you want a snail in pie level of surprise?"

"If you can that would be wonderful human. See you in a bit," she says and leave for the bathrooms.

You stand alone in the empty lobby as the realization falls over you like rain. "Ah, yes. Be right back!" Snails for lunch, wonderful.

The door makes a laughing sound as you exit the building. You try to pay it no mind and head towards the downtown area. Snails for lunch, takeaway snails. Who in their right mind would sell that? You reach for your phone before remembering the state it was in. Perfect, you're also shopping blind. Did you at least bring with you your wallet? No. You feel adrenaline rush through you as you pat yourself down. Ah, it was in the other pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Now where should you start? With a hot dog, so you have enough energy to eat later. You order one and feel a sudden breeze. You order another one. Your suspicion is confirmed as you round the corner.

"that obvious?" Sans asks you as he sees you rounding his corner.

"It was either you or a huge truck that made that gust and I went with my ears."

"so what is that you're holding?" he says with a finger towards you.

"It's called a hot dog. Here, bought one for you."

"no ketchup?"

You roll your eyes and return to the stand. You add some ketchup.

"more," you hear Sans say. He's ducked down beside the hot dog stand. You add some more. "more." You add some more. The ketchup starts to drip. "keep it up." The hot dog is now swimming in the ketchup and the seller is giving you a raised eyebrow.

"It's for a friend," you reassure with a smile. You get a sarcastic nod in return.

"did i say stop?"

You ask for a container and fill it to the brim with ketchup and thank the seller who just laughs you off.

"I got your ketchup with a side order of hot dog," you announce as you get back around the corner.

"you call it a side order yet the hot dog is in the middle."

"Classic. You seem a bit quizzical about it, is it under cooked?"

"it has meat?" he says after a bite.

"Of course it has meat. Wait, let me make a wild guess, you have something similar yet completely different down in the underground?"

"you know all these things about our home yet you know nothing about magic."

You take a bite of your own. "Heh, despite having no eyes, my friend, you are all seeing. How's the food?"

"good, more solid than the hot cats and dogs i used to sell."

"Glad you enjoyed it," you say with a full mouth. You swallow. "Listen, Sans, we are nearing the downtown area and if you would be so kind, please, pull up your hood over your head."

"why? afraid of people looking at this handsome mug rather than yours?" he says, gesturing to his face.

"Don't want people screaming and running away when I want to buy stuff, no offense."

"none taken, i'll active my human camouflage, just for you."

"Magic?" you ask as you clean your mouth.

He pulls his hood over most of his face. "magic," he says with wonder in his voice while wiggling his fingers.

"Hands in pockets as well if you don't mind," you add.

"an actual reason for having my hands in my pockets, say no more," he cheers as he shoves his hands deep inside his jacket. "human, wouldn't it be weird that i'm using a jacket in this weather?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Now help me scout for some snails."

"there's one," he points out from underneath his jacket.

"Snails that you can eat."

"looks fresh enough."

"Preferably bought from a restaurant."

His jacket recedes. "ah, then i have nothing."

"Well, keep your eye sockets open for something."

The downtown is crowded with people doing their daily routine, not paying a single second out of their strict time budget to notice you or Sans.

"if you're looking for knees or legs i see plenty, but not much else. maybe a briefcase or two," Sans informs.

"Gotta admit, not seeing much either. Could have sworn that the food court was here somewhere."

"maybe you should jump up to get a better view?" he proposes.

"Sounds like a plan. I guess?" You bend your knees and take a leap. You survey the area at the peak of your jump. You think you see something familiar. You reach down for another jump, but you can't touch the ground. You're hovering! You feel some vertigo creeping up on you, and it makes you flail with your legs to regain control. You're stuck though, something is holding you in the air, or someone. "Sans, if this is you please stop."

You feel gravity again and land clumsily.

"thought you needed a boost," he defends.

"If you could give me a warning next time I would be grateful. I think I know where we are headed though. Follow me."

You struggle to move against the flow of people heading back from lunch. Every step you take is met with four others moving in the other direction. Shoulders are hooking into yours and pushing you backwards. With every step you need to excuse yourself, wasting oxygen needed for moving. Are you even moving in the right direction? You jump again to get your bearings but the wave of people pushes you back and you lose your footing as you land. You fall and shield your head from the entourage of feet closing in on you.

"what is a cola? is it good?"

You remove your arms from your face to find yourself standing before a vending machine. Sans is browsing the drinks. "Uh, yeah, did I black out?"

"shortcut, saw that you had some trouble."

"And you couldn't take us through it earlier."

He cocks his head towards you. "you didn't say where we were heading."

"You didn't ask."

"i thought you had it under control. forget about it, you'll live longer. trust me, i'm a skeleton." His head returns to the machine. "i'll buy you a drink if it helps. pay you back for the hot dog. or do you take tabs?"

"Water, please."

"i think i'll give this cola a chance. it looks tasty," he explains and makes the purchase, he hands you the water and you thank him. It's cold and refreshing, just what you needed.

"Seems like your shortcut got us where we wanted. I can see the food court at the end of the alley."

"you sure we'll find the snails there?" he says while opening the can.

You take a sip and refasten the cap. "Not a clue."

The court is filled with a myriad of aromas and restaurants but none is screaming snails unfortunately. Looks like you need to search around.

"should we split up?"

"Nah, I enjoy your company," you say and rub his back.

"is that so?"

"Yes, and because of that I don't want you causing a scene. Besides, I might need your help," you admit as you pour some water on your hand to wash away the condiments from Sans' back.

"how so?"

"Don't know if I will be able to afford the snails, something tells me that they're very expensive. If that's the case I figure we can split the embarrassment," you offer while shaking your hand dry.

"gut feeling?"

You dry off the last of the water on your pants. "You can say that."

"then i'll stay with you."

"I appreciate it."

You wander around for some time, taking in the atmosphere through your nose. Meat, cheese, sausages. Still no snails though. How do they smell anyway? You try to remember how they tasted but you can only summon a gag reflex, doubt that will help.

"there's one," Sans informs again.

"Didn't I say that I wanted store bought?" you remind him.

"you did. that's why i'm pointing towards this restaurant."

You size up the store. "Steamed snails. Sold by weight. Perfect. Good eyes, Sans. Eye holes, apologies."

"accepted, but only because of that hot dog."

"Noted."

As you enter a wave of cheese and steam hit your nose. You can feel tears pooling in your eyes and you wipe them off quickly as you approach the cashier. "You sell snails, cooked snails?" you ask while making an effort to just breathe with your mouth.

"Yes we do, in many varieties. I would suggest the blue cheese flavor," the cashier answer worryingly unfazed by the atmosphere in their shop. Their nose must be as barren as the shop itself.

"Sounds wonderful!" you lie. "You sell them by weight right?" you ask to make sure as you try to find a breathing rhythm that doesn't involve your nose.

"Everything in here is sell by weight, just grab a container," the cashier finishes and moves behind the counter to tend to some unknown business.

"Thank you."

You make your way towards the corner where the snails are. The air is thick with steam and you're pretty sure it will stick to your clothes. A barrier of bitter is raised before you, shimmering with vapor and inviting you with its hypnotizing waves. You brace yourself and step through.

You didn't brace enough and your eyes sting as they fill with water. Your nose tries desperately to retract into your skull and you're tempted to let it. Your mouth snap close as to not let anything but the absolute necessary of oxygen in. You almost drop the container as the shock reaches your hands but you somehow manage to hold on to it. You're left paralyzed, not knowing if you can continue.

"this is a very slimy place," Sans comments.

You don't dare open your mouth to answer, but you make a sound through your closed mouth.

"that bad? you know," he starts as he wrestles the container from your locked hand. "i have been a little bit jealous of everyone else. their need to breathe, i find it fascinating, but being a skeleton i can't nor do i need to inhale. luckily i can still smell, magic and all that." He fills the container with snails, you can't catch which flavor. "but seeing you standing there, forced to breathe in this, it makes me not jealous anymore." He hands you the lidded container and pushes you back a couple of steps. The heat from it wakes you up.

"You enjoy the sight of humans in agony?" you ask as you shift the snails to your other hand while blowing on the hot hand.

"really hit your head on the snail there."

You scream inwards but at least the pun takes your focus away from the odor. You take the opportunity and command your unwilling body to move to the cash register. You ring the bell as you weigh the container. The price makes you gasp, forcing the foul smelling air down your lungs. You reflexively cough to try to force it back out.

"Something the matter?" the clerk asks.

"No, nothing," you lie.

"I was the same for some time before I became accustomed to it, no need to lie. I've seen plenty of people react worse than you. You're not as pale as your friend and if I may, it really brings out your rosy cheeks."

"you don't say," Sans comments again.

"I would take some fresh air if I were you buddy, don't want you fainting," the clerks suggests to Sans.

"He'll be fine, he has dry skin and have spent most of his days underground. The white color is normal for him," you assure the clerk. You take a bit of pride in Sans' laughing.

"If you say so. You wanted to pay?" the clerk asks.

"Not yet. Just wanted to check the weight. I'll ring again if I need you." You step away from the counter and motion for Sans to come closer. "I don't think I could carry enough cash to pay for this. I can't empty it out either."

"why not?"

"It is for Toriel. Despite her manners she needs a healthy serving."

He shrugs. "so what can you do?"

"You can do, Sans."

"what?"

"You lifted me up before, I just need you to lift the container a bit so it shows a lower price."

"wouldn't that be stealing?" he asks with a tilted head.

"We are paying for the weight and if we lessen the weight," you explain with some sympathetic hand gestures.

He nods sarcastically. "you don't want to draw attention, but you want me to use my magic. you're sending mixed signals here."

"I didn't hear screams when I was hovering. I'm not asking you to make it hover, just relieve it of some weight, that is all. The clerk won't mind, he gets paid by the hour."

"you're still asking me to steal," he reminds you.

"Don't get all high and righteous on me, or I'll tell on you to Papyrus. Unlocking my door without permission. I'd love to see you explain your way out of that one," you counter.

"and i would love to hear you explain to the clerk that there's a monster inside his store," Sans threatens. The air between is just a spark away from catching fire and if you add the rest of the chemicals floating around you'll be looking at a size able explosion. Sans finally shakes his head. "fine, but i'm not doing this for you."

"Neither am I." The air cools down a couple of degrees but it's still unstable. "Toriel won't be hearing anything about this, correct?" you ask after a short uncomfortable pause.

"i've seen her angry, she won't be hearing anything."

You extend a hand and he grabs it after some thinking.

The total came out okay, you had to ask Sans to lift it more a couple of times before you were comfortable paying. You then remembered that you needed to buy something for yourself and with a sigh he made it even lighter. The clerk raised an eyebrow to you canceling the purchase over and over again, but you managed to distract him by pretending that their card machine was acting up.

You hold the bag as far as you manage from you as you leave the store. Luckily the wind blows the smell away from you, but in return you get some looks as you pass people.

"By the way, Sans, what flavor did you pick?"

"you don't want to taste it yourself to find out?" he teases.

"I'd rather not lose my appetite before lunch. Oh, speaking of that, you want to join us?"

"after that whole ordeal about stealing?"

"I had good reasons and I was dizzy from the fumes as well, just wanted to get out of there. Take the invitation as my way of saying sorry," you explain.

"got things to do i'm afraid."

"Like what, sleep?" you scoff.

"good idea, i think i will do that too," he retorts.

"You know what I mean. Isn't lunch important to you?"

"very important."

"And?"

"i guess i have more important things to do then."

You shake your head. "Am I ever going to get a straight answer from you guys anytime soon?"

"nah, that would ruin the fun wouldn't it?"

"So all this talk about no secrets?"

He shrugs. "i didn't say it."

"But do you believe in it?"

"your bag is leaking."

You instinctively move it away from you and inspect it. It is dry.

"Sans, why did you? Sans?" you ask the empty space beside you. A soft wind brushes your legs and you sigh in irritation, this guy is more slippery than the snails. You find a nearby restaurant and buy something for yourself and with the wind in your back you walk home, the smell of the snail making a nice path in front you.


	14. Garden of Asgore

You wonder if it really is wise to bring the snails inside, the smell might stick around and you shudder at the thought. You see Undyne following the kids inside and ask her to hold the door.

She motions for you to run. "Five seconds, whelp."

"Then you can close it, not gonna risk dropping my lunch."

"Lunch? You didn't invite me?"

"You were working."

"And I still am," she says before releasing the door. "Kids! Twenty push ups before the magic lesson."

A symphony of moans and groans escape the building.

"So what about the lunch?" you yell through a window.

"Relax, whelp! I'll eat with Alphys," she shouts out through another.

"Oh, good."

As you enter the door the complaining has been muffled and moved inside the classroom. You can hear Alphys awkwardly ask Undyne to stop so they can start the lesson. She gets a sarcastic laugh in return. You shake your head and set course for the lunch room a couple of doors down the lobby.

You knock on the door frame.

"Toriel, you here?" you ask the empty room. The silence answers in her place. No biggie, you prepare the table while you wait. She enters after a couple of minutes.

"There you are, human," she welcomes with a big smile.

"Was about to say the same," you reply as you hold out a chair for her.

"I'm a monster though." She suppresses a giggle and walks towards you. "What did you bring to the table?"

You both smirk.

"We'll I brought what was ordered, snails, steamed to perfection, I hope," you answer.

She stops and lights up as the midday sun. She puts both of her hands on her mouth, but they can't hide her smile. "You bought me human made snails?"

"Sure, did but why are you still standing? Get over here!" you order her.

She moves hastily, but still manages to keep her composure. Like a jet powered butler she makes her way over the kitchen floor, eyes fastened, hands rubbing and drool forming. She apologizes for the last one. You feel the table shake a bit as she sits down. No creak from the chair though, good quality.

A greedy but well mannered hand lifts the fork and with the precision and grace of a seasoned seamstress she sticks it in her meal. A face of pure bliss awaits the incoming food and just as one would tuck in a baby she respectfully puts the snail on her tongue and closes her mouth. You damn your luck for having a broken phone. You've just witnessed something more pure than pure bliss.

She savors the taste for what feels like minutes before finally sighing in complete satisfaction. You feel pride swell up inside you but you can tell that you're light years away from her happiness. You still do a victory dance in your head though.

"Taste good?" you ask her.

She can hardly contain her excitement! "Human, this, this is, I never thought you could eat snail with this flavor."

"What flavor is it?" you pry.

She puts another snail in her mouth. "You don't know?"

"Yes, I do, just thought it would taste different for monsters," you try to save.

"Haven't we gone over this before? We've lived together more than we've been separated," she reminds you.

"Oh, yes we have, I just remembered, but if you could just indulge me."

"Well, I would guess a mix between...I don't know, please, human, just tell me."

You feel a corner behind you, but you can't seem to stop backing into it.

"The no secrets part was for you, not for me. You know what, I think I just stumbled upon something useful."

You're brushing up against the corner now.

"Human, I'm serious," Toriel says with a firm voice.

"You make a good point, but still no."

And there we have it, a nice corner for you to think about what you've done. Was it really that big of a deal to say that you didn't know the flavor? You don't know, maybe she would pry for more information and you don't trust your tongue to not slip about Sans' magic, no, this is the less worse option.

She shakes her head. "Surely, you can't be."

You answer with a single eyebrow and start with your own food. She puffs with a strong tone of annoyance and continues with her eating, you've probably soured the taste a bit but you can see that she is till enjoying it. Now, about this corner you've backed yourself into. You need to get hold of Sans somehow. Where can he be? Literally anywhere is an educated guess. Maybe he has a phone. No, wouldn't work with yours even if it was in pristine condition. Toriel's you can forget about. Asgore's maybe? Or Papyrus?

"Toriel?"

"Yes, human?"

Her voice chills you to the bone.

"I...I was just wondering if you knew where Papyrus or Asgore could be?"

You feel her gaze go right through you, she is looking at you but you can feel that she'd rather not.

"I don't know."

"Ah, I see."

Did you really expect her to answer you? Naive. That leaves Alphys and Undyne. You finish your food and leave as quickly as you can. You feel something tingling on your back, she is staring at you as you leave.

You knock on the silent classroom door. They are probably meditating, but this is important. You knock again. Still silent. You put some weight on the handle. It moves, and you open the door. Empty. Not a monster in sight. You feel your heart race in quiet panic. Where are they? You were just gone for like ten minutes or so.

"They are hosting their class in the Underground," Toriel tells you from across the lobby before entering her office. You don't have time to answer her. So, no to Undyne and Alphys as well. Who else? Frisk? Nah, too young to own one. The next best thing would be to wait at Sans' house, assuming it's still standing. You hear some angry huffing as you pass Toriel's door, you decide it would be a good idea to hurry it up.

You arrive out of breath at their neighborhood and take a few seconds to calm yourself down. You survey the modern, fresh area. Rows of identical houses with a generous amount of both front and backyard stand before you.

One house sticks out though. It stands in a blackened lawn. Stands might be a slightly generous term, the only thing that is standing is the chimney. The rest of the house lays in a broken but orderly pile, like a dark sunspot in an otherwise pristine star. It must be Undyne's house. Her previous house to be exact. No nameplates on the other houses, figures.

You knock on the house to the right. No answer. You move to the next. Nothing. As you move to the third one you hear faint singing coming from the backyard. You don't recognize the song but you're familiar with the voice. Asgore. At least you have someone to fall back to if no one else is home, next house. Empty as well. Asgore raises his voice for a couple of seconds.

"With your soul I will take back control," he sings.

You try not to make any judgment of the lyrics. Instead you make yourself over to last house. Also empty. Two houses left on the other side of Undyne's. Asgore's voice grows stronger the closer you get to him.

"How many times do I have to say, I will not be the one who falls today. Only one of us will leave this room, only one of us will keep our soul," he continues

He is not making it easy for you to keep an open mind but you're trying. You quickly pass his house and his voice becomes weaker. With a pleading please you try the second to last door. No answer. You knock harder, some desperation is settling in.

"Everything I've done, I did it as a king. My subjects wanted hope, I needed to kill, to break free."

You knock harder and faster on the last door. Despite your effort, nothing. You sigh and weigh your options. Risking talking to Asgore again or never talking to Toriel again. Pain first, enjoyment later. Asgore it is then.

"So please human take my soul, in this world it's kill or be killed," he stops.

Your hand stops just before it hits the door. You let it hang for a bit before knocking.

"Howdy! You can come around. I'm in the garden," he informs you.

You take his advice and make your way around.

"Oh, human, a pleasure seeing you here. Why don't you have a seat while I make us some tea?"

"Sure, I can go for some tea," you manage to answer as you pick up your jaw from the ground.

Around you is the most beautiful garden you've ever seen. Trees stand like green statues with cuts and curves you only thought could be made on stone. Heads of different monsters, symbols that you don't recognize and hedges in perfect shape. A patch of flowers lays like a rainbow carpet, their pollen spreading in the wind. It looks like it's sparkling in the sun. You're shocked and stunned by the beauty of it all.

Did Asgore make this? Asgore? The monster that poked a hole in your phone have enough dexterity in his hands to make this museum of leaves. The sound of a kettle whistling interrupts your thoughts.

"Tea is done!" Asgore comes back with the tea and some biscuits on a tray and motions for the groove. Grove? He made a grove? How? A table surrounded by a bench is located inside it and shadows from the leaves around it dance on it as the wind picks up. You seat yourself on the white bench and help Asgore ease the tray onto the table. He pours you a cup and then one for himself. You drink some and feel the dance of the taste buds envelop your mouth yet again. It feels good to taste it again. You reach for a biscuit, but stop halfway.

"Are these snail free?"

You're met with a hearty and contagious laugh. "No snails. I promise."

Trust, but verify, you take a small nibble but you can't detect anything that seems off. You should still proceed with caution.

"Better weather today," Asgore says after helping himself to some quiet time.

"Much better, yes. It really brings your garden to life."

"This? It's just a hobby I've recently taken up again. It feels good to clear your head with some landscaping. I also enjoy wearing more relaxed clothing from time to time."

You didn't really notice before. How could you not notice? A brightly colored Hawaiian shirt with purple pants. Not really subtle. The crown is still on his head though, guess you can't relax completely if you're the king.

"I can see that, but this is more than a hobby Asgore, this is art. I mean look at that, those symbols, what do they mean?"

"It is the Dreemurr crest, a family tradition. It also goes by the name 'The Delta Rune'," he explains with pride.

"How did you manage to shape the branches into a pair of wings? Magic, I assume."

"Not really. You see, human, you bend the branch when it is very young and as it grows you mold it until you get the desired shape."

You're blown away by what he said. "It grew that big in a week?"

"That was magic I'm afraid," he admits with a tone of embarrassment.

"Old habits die hard I guess."

He looks at the insignia. "Yeah, they do."

"Did you use a spell or something else? I might need to revive my apple tree."

He shakes his head. "Spell, unfortunately."

"Is it a one time cast spell, use it once and you're done?"

"Only works on trees that feed on magic."

"That explains why I don't recognize the leafs. They don't replicate do they?"

"What do you mean?"

You remove the cup from your mouth. "It can't reproduce?"

"No, not this one. I'm careful, you have my word."

The wind picks up and you let it wash your face. Asgore does to, his beard waves around like the trees in the breeze. You both enjoy the sun for some time.

"Human, about yesterday and your phone. I'm deeply sorry for both."

You sigh through your lips at the memory. "We were both at fault."

"I shouldn't had, I let my emotions get the better of me. This is all so exciting to me. We've been missing the sun and the stars. I never thought I could bring my people this happy ending!" He takes a deep breath. "And now I'm enjoying tea outside, the sun is in my face and at night I sit outside and count the stars. I found a book about constellations too. Can't wait to show Asr-" He stops as he goes for another sip, hot tea lands on his lap but he doesn't react. He scans the horizon with vacant eyes, and his body freezes. He is still like his leafy statues.

"Asgore?"

Your snapping manages to wake him up.

"Golly, sorry, human."

You set down your biscuit. "You've done this twice today, it's scaring me. Who was it?"

"Who was it who?"

"That you almost mentioned, but stopped. A, s, r, and then something else I guess."

"No one, leave it."

You can taste his words, they are sour, and sad.

"You sure?"

He lifts his head and you cower under his commanding gaze.

"Leave it."

"Yes, Asgore, sorry."

"Now, why did you come here?" he says as his voice gradually returns to normal.

You pause to remember. "I want to borrow your monster phone. I need to call Sans."

"I don't have his number unfortunately," he sadly informs you. "I do, however, have Papyrus'. Let me get it."

The bench sinks a bit into the ground as he stands up and he leaves you under the leaves as he walks inside. You can hear him muttering through the window as he searches. You turn your head back towards the sun and bask in it. A warm wind passes you. "Oh, Sans, you can't believe how happy I am to see you!" you say towards the wind. "What flavor did you pick? Toriel will have my skin if I don't tell her. Not that looking like a skeleton is wrong or anything. I just enjoy having it that's all."

"Is Sans here, human?"

You open your eyes, and look around.

"He should be. I felt him brush by."

Asgore looks around as well. "I can't see him."

You can't either.

"I thought, the wind," you say, confused.

Asgore takes a knee. "Are you feeling well human? Drink some more tea."

You nod your head. "No, I'm fine. I mean, yes, I will have some more tea, and yes, I am fine."

"Good. My phone, here." He hands you his purple phone, it has his crest on its cover. You open it up.

"Magic identification required," it says.

"Um, Asgore, can you unlock it?" you ask, interrupting his sip.

"Oh golly, sorry."

You hand it back and he envelops it, his hand glows and the cell phone beeps. "Here you go, human, Papyrus' number should be in the contacts."

You thank him and navigate to the contact section. You scroll the long list before finding Papyrus. You dial him up. "Does it have coverage here?" you ask as the phone does its thing.

"I'm sorry?"

A tone passes.

"The signal, it still works above ground?"

"We use magic remember? The phones connect directly to our souls."

Another tone passes.

"How?"

"Magic."

A third tone passes.

"Oh, right."

Your eardrum almost explodes as Papyrus answers.

"HELLO, ASGORE, PERFECT TIMING! I'M OUT OF FUEL, AND THE CAR IS STUCK! CAN YOU PLEASE CALL UNDYNE AND ASK HER TO COME LIFT IT AND ME OUT OF HOTLAND?"

You move the phone a bit from your ear. "You can't call her yourself?"

"I WOULD IF I COULD, ASGORE, BUT RIGHT NOW I'M HANGING BY MY SEAT BELT AND I CAN'T REACH MY PHONE!"

You move it a bit further away.

"I'll make sure to inform her. You don't happen to have Sans number in your head?"

"YOUR VOICE SOUNDS STRANGE, ASGORE! HAVE YOU SLAMMED YOUR BEARD IN THE CUPBOARD AGAIN?"

You look over to see Asgore's head in his hands, he is failing to hide his blushing face.

"Sans number, Papyrus, please, it is important."

"YES, MY KING! IT IS NYEEEH!"

His voice disappears and is replaced by the sound of harsh winds. The speaker sparks after a while and then disconnects. "Maybe you should call Undyne, Asgore. It sounds like Papyrus is in trouble."

He nods and takes back the phone. He pushes some buttons and puts it under his ear, like a baby kangaroo fitting into its mother's pouch. "Hello, Undyne, it is, oh, howdy Mettaton. No, I'm fine, thanks for asking. Listen, I need to talk to Undyne. I know that she is working, but it is important. Yes, I know that I ordered you to keep her there at all cost, but Papyrus is in trouble. No, real trouble."

He puts a hand over the phone and removes it from his ear, it flops back down on his cheek. "How much trouble was he in?"

"You heard, he was hanging by his seat belt at a place called Hotland," you answer.

He nestles the phone back under his ear. "A lot of trouble. More than normally, yes. Who to cover for her? Isn't Burgerpants? I see. Um..." Asgore looks over to you. You make it very clear that you don't want not part in whatever they're scheming. "Yes? Yes, that was the human. No, the other one, not Frisk. Yes, they are of age. No, they don't want to. Yes, I am sure. No, I don't see how that would be relevant. Yes, they are wearing pants. No, pants. Yes, I would object to that. No, your view count is not that important. Mettaton, send Undyne to rescue Papyrus. Yes, I will appear. Not today, I have to plan it in. Is she on her way? Why is she swearing? Yes, OK, thank you."

He hangs up and lets out a deep sigh, it competes with the wind.

"More tea?" you suggest.

"Please, and thank you," he answers while rubbing his forehead.

You fill his cup and then move on to yours. "Undyne on her way?"

"Yes."

You offer him a biscuit. "You don't sound happy about it."

"Mettaton said that she could leave her work if I came on to his show," Asgore explains before taking a bite.

"Is that bad?"

"Mettaton is very obsessed with his show, and I can't imagine what he has in store for me."

"But Papyrus will be saved right?"

"Yes, I trust Undyne." He picks up his cup and leans back, staring out at the plains behind his backyard. You follow his example.

"Who else could have Sans' number?" you think out loud.

"Frisk and Toriel."

"Mind if I call them?"

He unlocks his phone again, and hands it over to you again. "You can try, but I don't think they will answer."

You dial, Toriel. It goes to voice mail. "My child, you've reached Toriel, please leave a message after the tone. If this is you, Asgore, don't," you hear Toriel inform the caller.

You end the call. "Does she always say that?"

"Say what?"

"My child."

You navigate the contacts to Frisk's number.

"Toriel does that, true. Not my place to explain why though."

"Then I won't pry."

"I appreciate it."

You dial Frisk, old enough it seems.

The call goes directly to a robotic voice. "The number you have dialed is busy at the moment, would you like to put your soul on hold?"

You end it quickly. Better not risk it.

"No luck?" Asgore asks as you hand the phone back to him.

"No luck," you answer while massaging your forehead.

He swings his enormous arm in front of him. You're slightly startled.

"My clock says that they should be home in an hour or so. You can stay out here and wait if you want."

"I thought maybe I should take another round with the doors," you explain while gesturing with your hand towards the other houses.

"Toriel lives with Frisk on the house to the right. Papyrus and Sans on the house to the left," Asgore helps you.

You nod and stand up. "Thank you for the tea, and for borrowing your phone."

Asgore nods back and smiles. "Anytime human, thank you for the company. I got the dishes, don't worry."

You hear footsteps as you knock on Sans' door a second time. Finally! It opens and Sans rubs his eyes as the sun hits him in the face.

"Sans, please, what flavor did you pick?"

"for the snails?" he yawns.

"Yes."

"garlic, it said so on the container, so that is what i picked."

You blink in realization. "The flavor was on the container?"

"yes, why do you ask?"

"I didn't know," you say into the empty air.

Sans narrows his eye that's not covered by his hand. "you don't know why you asked?"

"No, I told Toriel I didn't know. I said that I planned to use the information against her."

He wrinkles his skull. "why did you do that?"

"I couldn't say that I didn't know, that would've been worse. Now she is angry with me."

"sounds like she has a bone to pick with you, or a shell in this case."

"Sans," you plead.

"anything else you wanted?"

"Um, I called Papyrus and he said that he was stuck in Hotland. Don't worry though, Undyne is on her way."

"good," he nods. An awkward silence hangs over you two for a couple of seconds. "i'm heading back to my nap. good talk."

"Yeah, good talk."

He closes the door and you can hear his footsteps getting fainter and fainter. You rush to Toriel's house and knock in excitement. Nothing. Ah, Asgore said in an hour or so, that's right. But if that's so then why are the windows lit? As you move for a closer look Toriel slams the door in your face. She drops the trash that she was holding. "Oh, human!"

"Toriel, I'm so sorry I," you stop as you find something wonderful on the ground. "I just wanted to show you something," you continue as you reach down and pick up the container. You laugh as you see the garlic symbol and text. You turn it towards Toriel. Her face goes red as Asgore's roses. "Thought you would've seen it. I didn't mean to make you upset."

She covers her face with her hands. "Human, I, I'm so sorry."

"Don't sweat it, really, it was stupid of me to tease you."

"Can I make it up to you? Tea perhaps?"

"Really, Toriel, it is water under the bridge."

"But you were probably devastated that I was mad at you. Please human, for me, and you."

She waves you in and like a black hole made of kindness you can't resist its pull. The door shuts behind you.


	15. House of Toriel

"Shoes off if you don't mind, my child."

You nod and remove your shoes and put them with the other pairs, smaller pairs, smaller pair. Only one pair of shoes, must be Frisk's. Despite that you hear two pair of footsteps running upstairs. That and something falling down, alarmingly common. "Toriel, what is that sound?"

"I'm sorry?"

You point your finger up as you hear another thud. "That sound."

"That must be Frisk and Monster Kid playing."

You nod. "What kind?"

"What kind of what?"

"Monster kid, what kind of monster kid are we talking about?" you expand.

She covers up a small laugh with her fingers. "Oh no, my child, his name is Monster Kid."

"Ah, and what do they look like?"

"No need for me to explain, you'll meet them soon enough."

You nod even though you have more questions and follow her into the living room. Even though her house is newly built the interior reminds you of your own home. A large felted chair is placed beside the fireplace facing inward. It has a dent in its pillow far too big for any human to make. It must be Toriel's chair. A book about snails is sitting on the table next to the chair. It's weathered and several bookmarks are sticking out of it.

She offers you a seat on the sofa. "Why don't you have a seat while I make us some tea?"

"Again?" you ask as you make your way to the sofa.

She halts just before the kitchen. "I'm sorry, I don't think I understand."

"Did I say that out loud? Sorry just thinking out loud," you realize.

She nods and enters the kitchen leaving you to admire the living room. You lean back against the green felted sofa and take a look around. You spot a pair of needles and a ball of purple yarn. Toriel sews? Interesting. You wonder what she sews, but you can't find anything that she could have made.

There is this huge purple banner covering the entirety of one wall embedded with the Dreemurr crest on it though, but, no, surely she couldn't have made that. It is huge, must have taken at least a year or so of constant work to make, she was a queen she couldn't find the time. Magic, it must be. Asgore said he used it in his craft. Even if it was magic it is still very pleasant to look at.

Though the fireplace isn't active the room is still filled with warm light that contrasts with the dark purple. If it is this warmly colored in the room now you can't imagine how it will look as the sun sets. You feel yourself getting excited over the idea. The sound of a kettle whistling interrupts your thoughts.

"Tea is done, my child."

She returns with a tray containing tea and some buns, they look and smell freshly baked and you can feel your mouth watering. She motions for the low table. You move it closer to the sofa and help her ease the tray on it. She pours you a cup and then one for himself.

You drink some and feel your taste buds sigh in blandness. You smack your lips and go for another sip, still bland. It just tastes of hot water honestly, with a hint of taste. You're not sure what taste though. Toriel doesn't seem to mind it. As you take another drink you involuntarily groan.

"Something the matter?" Toriel asks.

"Nothing. I mean, I guess I've been spoiled by Asgore's tea that's all," you answer while reaching for a bun.

"Yes, but that was a couple of days ago."

"Couple of minutes in fact, I was just with him. I was looking for a monster phone and you weren't home."

She lifts her cup from her lips. "You were with Asgore?"

"Yes, I was. His garden is really beautiful. I wish he was my neighbor so I could see it everyday. You're a lucky one. Oh, and speaking of tea, he makes it himself right?"

You turn to her to meet a deeply wrinkled forehead almost covering a pair of eyes that are staring into nothing. She is resting her chin on her hands. "He didn't pry you for more information about your science?"

"No, we had a talk about his garden, drank some tea, and enjoyed the weather."

"Nothing else?"

"There was some business about Papyrus being stuck in Hotland, but I think Undyne has it covered."

She nods and her face returns to its normal comforting state as she offers you another pastry. You decline since you've not had time to taste the first one. You go for a first bite, but you hesitate.

"These are snail free, right?"

"No snails, just cinnamon."

You nibble off a piece and your taste buds cheer as the strong taste shakes them awake. You make sure that she knows your satisfaction and she thanks you with a laugh.

"These are the best cinnamon buns I've eaten in ages," you compliment with your mouth full.

"I'm glad you enjoy them," she thanks you with a nod.

"Yo, cinnamon buns!" screams a light voice from the hallway.

"Hello there, children, feel free to take one if you want," Toriel offers.

Frisk and who you assume is Monster Kid run towards you and Toriel with eyes locked firmly on Toriel's buns. As they get closer you recognize who Monster Kid is, it is the one that you didn't notice. Your brain kicks the memory wide awake and you shudder because of it.

Monster Kid recognizes you as well. "Yo, Frisk, it's our science teacher. Yo, the cloud trick you taught us! I'm like the best at it now."

You manage to confine the memory back to the deepest pit of your head where it belongs as you wait patiently for Monster Kid to build up his cloud with his lips clenched close like a safe. His head is turning a bit redder and you can see that Toriel is a little worried. She is shifting uncomfortably. After an impressively long time he releases his creation and a thick light gray cloud sails out for a couple of seconds before dispersing.

"Cool, right?" he says out of breath.

"Impressive. Why do you think it works by the way?" you ask.

"Because cloud form when there's vapor. You taught us that."

You nod. "Yes, but we are not high up now are we? Didn't I also say that clouds formed high up?"

"What about the ground cloud you told us about?"

"You learn fast. Fog is what it is called and I can tell how it forms," you pause and look for an answer from Toriel.

"Tomorrow," she answers with a smile.

"I'll tell you how it forms tomorrow. I'll also tell you how your mouth cloud forms. A little extra for being so smart."

"Yo, Frisk. We're gonna learn more science. Awesome!"

Frisk nods and takes a handful of buns and shoves them in their pocket. You're confused by their action. Monster Kids helps his face to a bun as well by dipping it into the pile.

"Thank you, Toriel," he says, voice muffled by the bread in his mouth.

They run back towards the hallway and you return your attention to Toriel. It is quickly diverged again as Monster Kid trips on the hallway carpet. You hear him cough and Toriel stands up with sights on the fallen child.

"I swallowed it. Frisk can you share one? Yo, thank you, Frisk. You are the best."

He goes from sad to overjoyed in an instant causing Toriel to halt in her step. The sofa stays surprisingly quiet as she sits back down.

"Sorry about that, I don't want to see the kids hurt that's all," she explains.

"Neither do I, but sometimes you have to. You can't have them live in a bubble, they won't learn otherwise."

She halts her tea and sets it down while rubbing one eye.

"Can we change the subject? This one is bringing back some memories," Toriel says with sadness in her voice.

"Yes, sorry."

"You couldn't have known. Don't apologize," she says with a forced laughter.

You take another sip to refresh your mouth, it does the opposite. "So, Frisk then?" you still manage to ask.

"What about Frisk?"

"Why don't you start from the beginning? I'm curious how they ended up with you."

"That is also something I'd rather not discuss." Toriel looks down. "Please, forgive me."

"OK. then what about, um, this banner?"

She shines up, finally. You can't stand looking at her when she is sad, it makes you even sadder.

"Oh, that. It's just a hobby I've practiced for a long time."

You scoff a bit. "Life as a queen gets boring, never would've thought."

"Ex queen."

"Right, forgot about that. Life after being queen gets boring."

"Human, it is-"

"Not something you want to discuss," you finish for her. "Isn't it better if you choose the subject then?"

"I didn't mean to come off as rude."

"You're not, I just want to talk, but I have to admit, sometimes it gets frustrating not getting a clear answer. I know I'm not that close yet to ask these question, and I know I might never be but."

"Human, please, calm down, when the time comes," she interrupts with a soft hand on your shoulder. You turn around and look her in her deep purple eyes. She blinks slowly, and gives you a smile. You feel yourself becoming calmer. You nod in thanks and she removes her hand, "How is your family? I know that you live alone, where is the rest of them?" she asks while picking up her cup from the table.

The question hits you like a train and the calm she instilled into you disappears. Voices fill your head. Angry voices. Calling you cursed, calling your family cursed, blaming their deaths on you. Pale faces, red bodies. You carried the caskets alone, no one else wanted to touch them. Your aching body screamed as much as you did when the soil fell down on them. You clench your head. Your sister is crying, the beeps are becoming louder. Doctors are screaming, but her screams are stronger.

"Human?" comes a saving voice filled with worry but still firm enough to drag you back.

"No," you manage to force out in between sobs.

She drops the cup as she covers her mouth with her hands. "Oh no, human I, I didn't know."

"You couldn't have known. Don't apologize," you try to say with a forced laughter, but it fails as your wailing drowns it out.

"Human, no. Come here," she says with inviting arms. Warm motherly arms ready to take care of you, ready to tell you that everything is OK even though you know that they're not. You embrace them. You embrace them with a child's hurry, a child's desperation, a child's want for mother. "There there, my child, just let it all out. Don't worry, I'm here," she comforts you. Her hands runs through your hair with the utmost care. Your grip tightens on her robe. Like a silky wave she caresses you as you darken her wrinkly clothes with your tears. A warm chin leans on your head.

"I miss them," you squeeze out.

She caresses your hair again. "I understand."

"I thought I was strong. I thought that I was over them."

"No need to apologize. You are strong, my child."

"I tried to save her, I tried. I just wanted her home, she was the only one left."

"You did your best, you can't expect more from yourself."

You shake your head. "I rushed her, I was impatient, I killed her."

She removes her chin and leans your head backwards so that she can look at you. She hardens her gaze. "You did not kill her. You did everything you could, my child. You can't blame yourself for her death, it was an accident. It was..." She stops. Her hands slip off your head and fall down heavily on the sofa. "An accident," she says as she loses her focus on you, and stares at the banner instead. "It was an accident, my child."

You sit quiet for a moment to pull yourself together. "Thank you, Toriel. I needed that," you say and wipe your eyes.

She blinks a couple of times, like she is looking for a way back to reality. "Yes, anytime human. I..." She pauses for a second. "I can't imagine losing your family. Excuse me, I need to clean this up."

She picks up the shards from her destroyed cup and heads into the kitchen. You can hear her drop the shards into the garbage. You wait for her to come back but she doesn't, she stays there. Was it because-

"Yo, teacher, human," Monster Kid says as he stumbles in to the living room. "Frisk is hurt! They need human medicine," he continues after he jumps up on his knees.

No time for questions. You lunge up and pick Monster Kid as you pass him, he's not as heavy as you thought he would be and he laughs gleefully as you swing him up. You rush up the stairs and see Frisk curled up. You set down Monster Kid and reach for Frisk. They are sobbing.

"You alright? What happened?" you say as you near them. You turn them around and see that they're bleeding from their knee.

"Frisk tripped when we were playing and started to leak. My magic is not developed. I couldn't help," Monster Kid relays.

You laugh in relief. "Don't worry, it is just carpet burn. I'll get the first aid kit from the bathroom. Where is it?"

Frisk points to a door.

"Yo, I thought they were dying," Monster Kid sighs out, also in relief.

"Nah, you don't die from that," you say as you enter the bathroom. You search some cabinets before finding the kit. You return and start your surgery.

"What is in that bottle?" Monster Kid asks.

"Disinfectant, to remove dirt and bacteria. Now hold still Frisk, this might sting."

They cringe while you clean the wound but they make an effort to squirm as little as possible.

"What is bacteria? Is it dangerous?" Monster Kid asks over your shoulder.

You wipe away the alcohol. "Bacteria are small organisms that live all around us. Even inside us humans."

Both put out their tongues in disgust.

"Yo, you said that you were cleaning them off? Isn't it dangerous for them to live inside us?"

"There's good and bad bacteria. Hopefully I cleaned the bad ones off of Frisk's knee," you explain while measuring up a band aid. You cut it to the right size and apply it. "Good as new. What were you playing by the way?"

"We were playing Undyne and Human. I was Undyne and Frisk was the Human. I needed to protect the monsters from the evil Human. Undyne did that, she is so cool. She would swing her magic spear and kill all bad Humans," Monster Kid explains with glittering eyes.

You lift an eyebrow and look at Frisk. They shrug their shoulders. "But not all humans are evil, you know that," you remind Monster Kid.

"Yo! Of course I know that, but it is the only game I know," he says while looking down and kicking his foot. Frisk is also giving you a hard look, or as much as they can through their slits.

"Can I join? There must be someone else I can be," you offer.

"Yo, you want to play with us? Wow, cool."

"Sure. So, who should I be?"

Monster Kid shuts down as he processes the question. His head is hanging and a pair of teeth are visible from inside his mouth. You give a questioning glance towards Frisk, but you only get another shrug as an answer. After what seems to be a full minute Monster Kid lunges his head up in revelation.

"You can be Mettaton! No, Papyrus, no, yo!" He looks at you with pure bliss in his eyes. "Yo, you can be Asgore!"

You're worried that his smile will tear his cheeks apart.

"Asgore, eh? Sure, I can play a monster king. What should I do?"

"You can um, uh, I don't know, what do kings do?"

You scratch your head in thought. "They rule, uh, yeah, they rule over their people. Monsters, sorry."

"Yo, then you can give me the order to kill the Human."

You look at Frisk but they just wave it off.

You sit yourself in a chair and try to look as royally as possible. Elbow on the armrest and hand clenched. You sink down a bit to show that you own the place. Finally, a stern look. You're a king, act like one. You lower your voice and summon Undyne to your throne. You can only manage a single dig with a spade compared to Asgore's mine shaft of a tone, but you still go with it. "Undyne, report to your king, update me on the Human situation."

Undyne rushes in through the palace door and stumbles on the red carpet. She quickly recovers and kneels before you.

"You've arrived, excellent. Tell me, how dangerous is this Human? Do they have long teeth like you or maybe horns like me?"

Undyne raises her head and brushes her hair aside. "Yo, the Human is like very dangerous, they will stop at nothing to kill us all."

"Have you verified the information?"

She looks at you with a confused face.

"You sure about this?" you simplify.

"Yes! I am Undyne! I am the head of the Royal Guard and I'm the coolest and the strongest monster in all of the underground. I know it," Undyne reassures while flexing.

"How do you plan on dealing with this situation then?"

"I will kill them! And bring their soul to you!"

You stroke your golden, magnificent beard in thought. It flows in the wind that is passing by from an open window. "Can't you just bring them in for questioning? They might know something more about the other humans."

"But-"

"No buts, Undyne, your king has spoken. Now go, bring the human to me, alive. I command thee, my leader of the Royal Guard."

She squeals in glee and jumps around happily. "I'm a real royal guard, the king told me so."

You can hear a giggle from the corner of the room.

"Oh no, the Human has defeated all of our guards and is now here, in my throne room. Undyne, as the head of the Royal Guard it is your task to defend me. Defeat the Human."

"Yes, Asgore! Yo, Human, this is where you die," she says while taking threatening steps towards the Human. She is dragging her spear behind her.

"Alive, Undyne, I want them alive," you remind her in your royal voice.

"Right. Yo, Human, this is where you live," Undyne threatens while posing with her spear.

Another giggle.

"They're taunting you, Undyne. We can't let them confuse you. Come closer, I know their weakness."

"Yo, you do?" she asks with huge eyes.

You lean down and whisper your master plan in her ear making sure it is loud enough to scare the Human.

"From what I've gathered during my years is that humans are really weak to," you start. You cast a menacing look towards the Human. "Tickling!" The Human cowers in fear at the notion of your triumph car., "They're scared, get them Undyne!" you command.

Undyne charges forward in a glorious war cry and the Human wails in agony as she attacks, striking with pinpoint perfection at the Human's weak spots. She's trained years for this. The battles rages on for a long time, but Undyne is slowly getting the upper hand despite the Human's speed, they dodge fast as lightning. After a couple of minutes of furious battle your champion returns with the captured Human.

"Yo, here is your Human," she proclaims while trying to catch her breath.

"Wonderful, Undyne, they will be singing songs about this battle for years to come."

"Yo, do you think you can make Mettaton sing about it?" she asks while bouncing in excitement.

"Anything for you, my hero."

She jumps around for a second time.

"As for you, Human. I have ways to make you talk," you say while winking. "You see, I can't have a Human running around in my Underground. Therefore I must keep you here, in my castle. To make sure you don't flee I plan on feeding you so that you're so fat that you couldn't possibly escape. Pies, cinnamon buns, cakes, anything you can imagine. This is your punishment. What do you say?"

The Human nods in defeat.

You hear footsteps from the stairs.

"Oh, if it isn't my wonderful queen," you say with arms outstretched, welcoming Toriel to your shared throne room.

She stops at the top step and looks around. Monster Kid is frolicking about, shouting about how he is finally a royal guard and a hero. Frisk is sitting in front of you laughing, and you feel that you are showing her the goofiest smile you can muster.

"Queen?" she questions.

"Yes. I, Asgore have commanded Undyne," you say and point to the general area Monster Kid is occupying, his bounces makes it hard for you to accurately point at him. "To capture this Human," you continue and shift your finger to Frisk. "So that my queen, you, can punish their crimes by making them as fat as possible so that they can't escape. This means baking them delicious pies and being nice to them."

She laughs behind her hand. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but Papyrus is here now."

"No, I don't want to go home now! I have to make sure the Human talk," Undyne complains. She stamps her foot down in protest.

"You've done your part, Undyne, and now you must rest. The Human is defeated and wouldn't stand a chance against me and my queen. Follow Papyrus home, that is an order."

"OK then," says Undyne with a heavy head.

"Take a cinnamon bun with you and bring one to Papyrus," Toriel suggest as Monster Kid passes her by. "Now Frisk, it is time for your sports practice."

Frisk crosses their arms and gives Toriel a cold shoulder.

"Frisk, we've discussed this and don't worry, I'll be there with you," Toriel promises.

Frisk thinks for a minute before walking to Toriel.

"Pack your bag and meet me downstairs," she says with a gentle kiss to Frisk's forehead. Frisk then enters their room. Toriel turns to you. "Thank you, for playing with the little ones."

You notice that her eyes are faintly red, like yours.

You nod. "Not a problem, Toriel, it was fun."

"Isn't it weird that you were the one playing Asgore?"

"Why would that be weird?"

"Because you're a...Never mind."

You shrug off the question and lift yourself out of the chair. "I guess that I should be going now."

"It was nice having you over."

"It was nice being here." You scratch your head and look down. "About the, um."

"You needed it, I'm glad I could help you," Toriel nods.

"Thank you, again, for being there."

She gives you her signature reassuring smile. "Anytime, human."

As you go down the stairs you hear a phone ring. You pat yourself in reflex, but stop when you hear Toriel answer. You hurry down to not eavesdrop.

You're in the middle of tying your shoes as she comes rushing down.

"Human, I must ask a huge favor of you," she says with hurry in her voice.

"Of course, Toriel, what is it?"

"Can you take Frisk to the soccer field next to the Town Hall?"

"Yes, no problem. Go."

She thanks you as she rushes out the door. Frisk comes down a second after.

"You don't mind me taking you to your soccer practice?" you ask Frisk. They shake their head. You offer your hand and they take it. "Let's go then."


	16. Football with Frisk

As you and Frisk leave Toriel's house you come upon Papyrus and Monster Kid arguing.

"No, I'm Undyne!" Monster Kid demands.

"NYEH! UNDYNE, HELP ME! I DROPPED YOU OFF AND NOW YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO THE UNDERGROUND!"

You turn your head and see Undyne, the real one, on her doorstep. It seems that she was interrupted just before opening her door. She sighs deeply and looks at Papyrus. "Papyrus, I'm very tired. I just want to get home and work out. Drive, me, home to the underground."

"IF YOU SAY SO! COME, UNDYNE!"

The sound of a perfectly tuned engine and a high pitched yo echoes trough the neighborhood before disappearing towards the mountain. They're followed by a door slamming shut.

With a slight shake to your head, you nod down to Frisk. "Nice community you got, Frisk."

You get a tug on your hand as an answer.

"Don't get me wrong, I would love to live here. Never a dull day."

You start your walk.

"What's your team called, by the way?"

Frisk shrugs.

"Just a bunch of kids having fun?"

They halt for a second before nodding.

"Having fun without you?"

They look down.

"Don't worry. You'll fit in sooner rather than later," you reassure with a smile. You don't get one in return.

You let them be for a while and instead enjoy the warm wind that is carrying you forward. The sun is starting to set, causing your shadows to grow along the pavement. You make a simple creature with your hand and attack Frisk's shadow with it. They summon a shadow creature of their own to defend themselves. A short battle enrages before your shadow is defeated. Their creature does a little victory dance. You ruffle Frisk's hair and they giggle. After a couple of minutes Frisk stops and shift themselves to your other side.

"Something the matter?" you ask with a perplexed look.

They don't answer, instead they bury their face into your side. You look around. A depressing building stands on the other side of the road. Mt. Ebott Orphanage. You look down at Frisk and nod to yourself.

"How about we take a little detour? Sounds good?" you propose.

You can feel them nodding in your side and you put an arm over them before turning the both of you onto a dirt road.

"I used to walk this road with my, um, sister. It leads through a small forest and it ends close to the Town Hall," you explain as you move some branches out of Frisk's way. It is smaller than you remembered, but then again, the last time you were here was a couple of years ago. It is still very tranquil. A corridor of small trees and bushes on each side creates a tunnel of green and you need to bend down a bit so that you fit. Frisk is walking normally.

"Cool, right? My secret passage, well, our secret passage now. Better than Sans' shortcuts?"

You get a concerned look.

"Of course I know about Sans' shortcuts. He's taken them plenty of times around, and to me. He even brought me along on one before as well. I guess it sounds strange to hear another human talking about magic?"

They nod.

"We better get used to it. Hopefully it will become as mundane as talking about one's shoe size."

You picture a monster and a human on a date.

"So, what magic do you have?" asks the human.

"Oh, nothing special. Just healing," the monster responds while twiddling their thumbs.

"Cool."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely, I work out a lot. If I could go home and have someone heal me right up so that I don't get muscle soreness that would be awesome."

Your interracial fantasy is interrupted by a root sticking out of the ground. Luckily you manage to catch your balance before falling over. You startle Frisk though.

"Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts," you hastily explain. "Yeah, magic, you don't happen to know how to use it?"

They shake their head.

"Don't know, or can't?"

The move their hands like a balance.

"Both, interesting. You know, if we're lucky we can both learn some, wouldn't that be cool? I would love to use magic."

They nod in excitement and make magical gestures with their hands. You join them. You conjure up an energy ball which you charge up by making it dance around yourself and with appropriate sound effects you release it into the forest. The leafs tremble before your vast knowledge of the arcane. You decide to spare them a second round.

"But don't we need a, what was it, soul, to use magic?"

Frisk puts a hand on their chest.

"Do you have heart problems, something I should know? Or does it just itch?"

They remove it and shake their head.

"Good, don't want you collapsing here in the middle of the forest. We've a bit left to go."

Frisk stretches out their arms towards you in response.

"No."

They bounce with their knees.

"I said no."

They frown.

"I know that trick, Frisk. My shoulders are for my own burdens. No."

They let their arms swing heavily in defeat.

"Maybe Toriel can carry you back home. She wouldn't mind, not with those shoulders. She wouldn't even feel you."

You offer a hand as a compromise and they reluctantly grab it.

"Speaking of Toriel, how did you meet? How did you get to the underground in the first place?"

Frisk's grip hardens in response to your question.

"It's OK. If you don't want to talk about it now you don't have to, just wanted to kill some time."

They shake their head and look at you with a serious face and take a deep breath. The air disappears as quickly as it enters Frisk's when a white dog again jumps out from a nearby bush. They snatch Frisk's bag and run off along track. You help Frisk up and brush them off and weigh your options in your head. Run after the dog on this dusty road with your nice clothes on or risk getting Frisk's in trouble with Toriel.

You curse your sympathy and take off after the dog. You manage to keep pace with it as it seems to skip more than run. You whistle and try to coax it, but your attempts are fruitless. Sweat is starting to form on you and you decide to try something desperate. "Could you please drop the bag?" you yell at the dog. It stops, drops the bag like it was asked to and jumps back into the forest. You halt in confusion and walk the last part.

"Another question to the list," you say out loud as you pick up the bag. "Frisk, I got your bag," you shout back towards the trail.

A small hand grips one strap and you see Frisk standing next to you. You release it and they mount it on their back.

"How did you?" you ask. Right afterwards you feel a breeze pass by you. "I see. Did Sans appreciate you waking him while he was sleeping?"

They shrug their shoulders.

"I guess he can't stay mad at you, right? I can see the exit from here. Just a minute left of walking."

When you get back on the paved road you hear faint screams. Sport screams, you wager, and hope. You walk with Frisk towards the source, but like a pair of similar magnetic poles their walk speed decreases as you get closer to the field. It takes some time, but you eventually arrive at the soccer field.

You hold the gate open for Frisk. They hesitate to enter. You release the gate, get down on one knee and put a hand on Frisk's shoulder.

"Frisk, do it for Toriel," you try to persuade.

They nod weakly. You give them a smile and a pat on their shoulder before opening the gate again.

"Look, it's the monster kid! Run away before they take us down to the Underground," screams one kid while dramatically flailing around with their arms. They are joined in by other kids pretending to be monsters. You're impressed by their coordination.

"The monsters will take over the world and make us their slaves!", yells another one.

Frisk is now hiding behind your legs.

"Look! They are using a human shield!"

Many fingers and laughs are directed towards you and Frisk. It goes on for too long before the trainer finally stops them. "Hello, Frisk, you're late. Come here, we're waiting for you," he commands.

Frisk emerges from behind your legs but you put an arm out to stop them.

"I see now why you were hesitant. You still want to go? I can whip up a lie for Toriel," you propose.

They shake their head and lift up your arm so they can pass. You allow them but you seat yourself close so you can observe. After Frisk has changed clothes they bring their bag to you.

The training starts with five minutes of jogging, Frisk is keeping up well with the other kids but you can see that they're actively avoiding Frisk. The coach is unaware, he is too busy with setting up the first exercise.

The kids return and are told to pair up. The pairing goes smoothly until it is Frisk's turn. After much debate between a boy and the trainer Frisk gets a reluctant partner. First exercise is passing. What you can gather they're supposed to pass to their partners dominant foot. Frisk instead gets the ball in the chest as the boy kicks the ball with all his might.

You fight your urge to intervene, it would only make things worse. You curse the kid under your breath though. Frisk recovers and continues with the exercise, resilient little one. The boy behaves relatively well for the rest of the drill. Following it is group exercises.

Again the trainer needs to force the kids to accept that Frisk is playing with them, but he sounds like he is doing it because he don't want to deal with it rather than trying to get Frisk to become one with the gang. You don't like this one bit. The drill is still passes but one needs to chase the ball. If they catch it the one that passed last switch with the chaser. Frisk starts, of course. They nimbly catch the ball in a matter of seconds but are not allowed to switch with the passer. You can't hold back.

"You're supposed to switch!" you yell causing the training to stop and all to look at you.

"Can you let me do the training?" the trainer yells back.

"They didn't switch, they're not doing the exercise properly," you retort. The kids mimic you mockingly.

"Then I'll deal with it," the trainer replies before making a girl switch with Frisk.

Even though Frisk now is in the passing ring the kids don't stop with their shenanigans. Frisk gets every pass directed at them while the chaser is standing right next to them. Frisk fights for a while before finally slipping up. They switch willingly. You shake your head. That kid is too nice for their own good.

"OK, let's do some body building, everyone down on the ground. We start with twenty push ups," the trainer barks after blowing his whistle.

A lot of moaning can be heard before all the kids are down, at least Frisk gets some slack. Like a uncoordinated wave the kids do their exercise, bobbing up and down irregularly. Frisk is keeping up even with the occasional bump from the kids around them.

Sit ups follows and another wave appears as the kids rearrange themselves and start the workout. After a couple of other workouts the trainer orders the kids so set up goals so that they can play a match.

Every kid puts one of their shoes in a pile and the trainer makes up the teams by tossing the shoes to his sides. They are then put back on and the kids are then given colored jerseys and ordered to make up a formation. Frisk gets to play left defender despite being right footed. The trainer confirms the formation and says that he'll act judge.

"Clean game now, kids," he says before blowing the starting whistle.

The match starts off with an attack towards Frisk's goal. The ball is being played with on the right side of the field. Frisk takes up position so that they can defend against an incoming insertion from the side.

Their thinking was right and they quickly catch the ball and pass it to a teammate. They are encouraged by the trainer, good. The ball is played outside of Frisk's grasp for a while before returning to them. They look around and make a beautiful insertion that finds another kids head. Goal for Frisk's team. They team cheer on the goal maker. You can see Frisk's shoulder drop a bit.

They don't let it stick for long as they're up and at it quickly after, interrupting passes and clearing the ball when things get dangerous. You can see the opposing team getting more and more annoyed with each counter Frisk makes, their spacial awareness is incredible. Dodging tackles while keeping possession of the ball, good accuracy on the passes and robust stamina. The only thing missing is communication, they are very quiet out on the field, come to think of it, they're very quiet in general.

As the match progresses more people start to crowd the stand you're sitting on. Parents of the kids, you guess. You can hear gossip behind you, they're talking about the monster situation.

"Did you hear about the fire?" a mother asks another.

"I heard the monsters caused it. Something about not being pleased with the housing."

You shake your head at the thought.

"I heard that it was a faulty gas pipe. Wait, the monsters live here?" says a third.

"Didn't you know? They are living at the newly built area. Got themselves their own little community."

"Maybe we should visit? Welcome them to the surface?"

"I'd rather not get involved, not until I know what they want, exactly."

"I thought maybe we could bring them a pie or something, maybe a fruit basket. So that they know that they're welcomed here."

"Didn't you read today's paper?" a man asks.

"The free one? No."

"It said that we should be careful around the monsters, they know magic."

"They do? How?"

"I don't know, it just said so."

"That's scary."

"You."

Dammit.

"What do you think about the monster situation?"

"I, uh, I'm indifferent," you answer with your back still towards them.

"How can you be indifferent? Monsters exists! Doesn't that scare you?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Why not?"

You shrug your shoulders.

"Does it make you happy?"

"As I said, I'm indifferent," you remind them.

"Sad, excited, anything?"

"A little bit excited then," you do admit.

"Why?"

"Because they exist, that's neat," you answer.

"But we went to war with them."

"We won didn't we?" the third one adds.

"Yes, so they should be mad at us."

"They don't seem mad to me," you comment.

"You've been with them?" the man asks with a tone you're not sure you can place.

A sound emerges from Frisk's bag, their phone is ringing.

"Excuse me, I have to take this," you say and walk some distance away. The caller is Sans. Luckily Frisk's phone is missing the magic lock and you manage to answer. "Sans, you have no idea how good your timing is. You saved my skin, and my bones."

A laugh can be heard from the other end, but is is not Sans', it is Toriel's. "Oh, human, you're a funny one. I forgot my phone as I was running to the meeting so I borrowed Sans'."

"when you give it back it becomes borrowing," says Sans faintly through the phone.

"Quiet you. Now, is Frisk OK?"

You catch a glimpse of Frisk dribbling another kids' socks off. "They're fine. Is this their first practice, by the way?"

"Yes, I wanted Frisk to have some human friends as well."

The kid makes a pair of horns with their fingers and stick out their tongue at Frisk.

"I'm sure that they appreciate the thought," you say as you shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow?"

"Nothing important. Anything else you want to know?"

"Oh, right, yes. Could you please be so kind as to walk Frisk back home. I'll treat you to dinner as thanks."

"Sounds lovely. I'll get them home safe and sound."

She sighs. "You are too kind, my child."

"I try my best. See you later."

"I'll bake a pie as well."

"Now you're spoiling us, Toriel."

You share a laugh as you end the call.

"Who was that?" a woman asks as you return.

"It was, um, no one. Why do you ask?" you answer with a wrinkled forehead.

"I thought it was a monster calling."

"On our cellphones? You must be joking. Monster's don't have cellphones," you lie. "How would they build them?"

"I guess you're right about that."

You breathe out as you sit down, too close.

The match is played for another ten minutes before the trainer ends it. After a quick talk with the kids they walk to their respective parent or in Frisk's case, their teacher. They quickly change and soon you're on your way back.

"Detour?" you ask.

Frisk nods.

You keep an ear open for any rumbling in the bushes as you enter the dirt trail. You don't hear any but you decide to still be vigilant.

"You met that dog when you were down in the underground?" you ask Frisk while peering into the forest.

Another nod.

"Annoying one, isn't it?"

A third nod.

"I bumped into it when we first met, on the way down Mt Ebott. It jumped out in front of me and I tripped. Luckily it attacked Undyne as well so I managed to get home. Did Undyne tell you how the chase with me went?"

Frisk shakes their head.

"She told you I let her in willingly, right?"

Frisk avoids your eyes.

"Of course she did. Speaking of Undyne, how did you react when you first saw her?"

They shrug nonchalantly.

"Yeah right," you say as you guffaw. You ruffle their hair. "I like you kid."

They stop.

"What?"

They stretch out their arms.

"This again?"

They bounce with their knees. You get an idea in your head, however. A win-win.

"You know what, when we get out on the main road. I don't think you want to have too much salad before we eat," you offer as you touch the leafs above you.

They nod with a smile. The rest of the walk through the forest goes smoothly with no annoying dog to disturb you. When you reach the pavement you stay true to your words and bend down so that Frisk can climb up on your shoulders.

"Before you ask, I'm doing this for me."

They give a perplexed look from the top of you.

"You see, when I tell Toriel that I carried you home she will be so delighted that she'll let me have another slice of pie."

The realization dawns on Frisk and they try to climb down but you hold their legs firmly.

"Oh no, you're staying right were you are! I want my second slice."

They keep on struggling but you manage to keep Frisk on your shoulders, and eventually they give up. You walk the rest of the way with a smile on your face.

"Oh my, hello, you two. I didn't know that humans could have two heads," Toriel answers as she opens the door.

"You know what they say, two heads are better than one, so Frisk and I made a little arrangement."

"Is it reversible?" Toriel asks with theatrical drama.

"I don't know, I've never done this before. Ready, Frisk?"

They're still a bit grumpy. You lift them back down and act surprised with Toriel.

"Dinner is ready. Come, children. Frisk, you can shower afterwards if you want."

Frisk shakes their head and enter the bathroom.

"Thank you, human," Toriel wishes you.

"It was nothing, really," you remind her.

"You carried them home as well. You are so sweet, my child."

"They were tired and hungry."

She puts a hand on your shoulder. "You know what, that deserves a reward. I've made a second pie, you can take it home if you want."

"Thank you, Toriel," you say calmly, but inside you're screaming with joy.

"Cinnamon or butterscotch?" she asks.

"I'll take the one that gets left over, Frisk can choose the first."

Toriel gives you a hug. You're unprepared for it and she squeezes the air out of you.

"You're almost as kind as Frisk. I'm so happy to have the both of you in my life."

"The feeling is mutual," you manage to say with the tiny amount of air left in you. Luckily she releases you shortly after.

"Now, child, let's eat."

"Let's."


	17. Old and new doors

"See, boss. Ain't that just amazing? It would get you some points with health and safety. Just get one at least, so we can show the monsters our technology."

"We've talked about this and there's no way I can make it fit into our budget. No motorized wheelbarrows. End of discussion."

A rude gesture is thrown towards the boss before the builder turns to you. You get a friendly wave and approach the fence surrounding the closed off plot of land.

"Hello, again. Good thing one of us gets to play around with that. You off to the store again?"

"Off to work in fact," you answer.

"I see. Pray tell, what kind of work except construction could possibly warrant a motorized wheelbarrow?" the builder asks with his arms crossed.

"That's for me to know and you to guess," you tease.

The builder smirks. "Don't trust me? Once a spy, always a spy I guess."

You laugh as well. "If you don't mind, what are you building here?"

"My guess seems to be correct. This information is gonna cost you."

"You'll get twenty five percentage of whatever the monsters pay me for this sensitive information," you propose.

They shake their fist in victory. "Deal. Prepare yourself for a twist, we are actually building the monster school."

"But that means that you'll get nothing," you comment with a raised indexfinger. "They wouldn't pay for information that they already know about."

The builder smacks his leg. "Dammit, I wanted that beachfront property."

"Maybe next time. How did it get approved so fast? There's been like a week or so since the monsters surfaced."

"Word is that the monster king possesses a tongue made from the purest of silver. Ten minutes or so with the mayor and he was approved two building permits. Two of them, can you believe it? One for a school and the other one for a laboratory of some kind."

You flinch. "Laboratory?"

"That is what the blueprint was called, 'Above Laboratory'. We are also in the process of erecting 'Above School'."

You'll have to ask Asgore about these names.

You peek inside the building area. "No monsters working on the project?"

The builder turns and shake this head. "Not at the moment, maybe later, if my gut feeling is to be trusted."

"There's a chance?" you ask.

"The plans calls for some bizarre contraptions, things we can't build. Another guess, that's all."

"Why can't you build them? Our technology must be way ahead of theirs," you lie.

The builder waves his fingers. "Magic."

You laugh through your lips. "You serious?"

"I know what I saw," he states firmly, "magic is required to finish this building and the laboratory."

"Doesn't that scare you?"

"The only thing that's scaring me right now is the deadline."

You lean on your wheelbarrow. "So talking to me must be terrifying?"

The builder scoff. "Nah, this is fine. We're waiting for materials. Never thought that lorry drivers would be superstitious." A loud sigh emerges from the builder. "Just come here, drop off the stuff and drive back. No need to hang around."

"Never thought that monster existed," you retort in the driver's defense.

"Point taken. How are you holding up by the way?"

"Better than ever, if you could believe."

He nods. "Boy can I, what with you working for the monsters and all that."

You feel yourself freeze in fear.

"How many secrets are you up to now?" they jokingly confront.

You need to thaw out for a second before you can answer. "Hehe, like, I don't know, two hundred."

The builder looks impressed. "I can't fault you for slacking at it then."

You both laugh together. A second later the sound of a lorry horn comes thundering down the street.

"Well, guess I'm off for work," the builder sighs.

"Same here. By the way, forgive me for asking, but I must know."

"Shoot."

"Why are you telling me all this? This is all highly classified, it has to be. Yet here we are, talking about it like it is the weather."

The builder removes his hard hat and leans towards the fence. "I, I knew your dad. He did something for me that I can never repay him for." He pauses as he caresses his mouth. "He saved my life. The best thing I can do now is to look after his kid, right?" He nods with a stern look. "I think that with a situation as huge as this I would let him down by not telling you everything I know. I also know that I'm sticking my neck out for you, but don't feel like you owe me. This is nothing compared to what your father did."

"What did he do?"

"If he didn't tell you that then I won't either."

"You, you're joking right? This is my dad. He never mentioned anything about this."

The builder puts his hat back on. "Like I said, my mouth is close, out of respect to your father."

"But-"

Another horn drowns out your voice and an angry driver screams out of his window. You turn your head back towards the construction site only to see the builer's back enter the only door that's in place at the moment.

The sound of your wheelbarrow is not heard over the sound of the construction now underway.

"How hard is it to get a straight answer in this damn city?" you ask yourself out loud as you near the Town Hall.

You struggle to get the wheelbarrow up the stairs to the door, but after a couple of minutes of the door handle in your side you finally enter with your visual aid for today's lesson. You see Undyne sleeping on a chair with her limbs and tongue hanging like vines after a storm and sneak up on her. She flies out of her chair with a confused yell as you rev your wheelbarrow.

"Morning, Undyne!" you greet with a grin. "I was just wondering where Toriel could be," you also ask as you relax the engine.

"I'm gonna make Papyrus do so many sit ups. His car has woken me up for the last time," she promises with fists clenched in anger. A blue spear forms in one.

"He does that often?" you ask while masking your laugh.

The spear grows in size. "Every morning, and now he interrupts my nap."

"Sorry to burst your bubble Undyne, but this time it was me." You give your engine a good throttle and the sound fills the barren lobby. Her spear fizzles away and she grumbles loudly.

"What, no punishment for me?" you ask with fake shock.

She puffs from her nose. "Toriel would have my head."

"Maybe she would finally find a good use for it."

You're met with an extended tongue. You give one back and the two of you snicker.

"Speaking of Toriel, you know where she is?"'

Undyne crosses her arms and looks down. "She's teaching with Alphys." She kicks the carpet. "They wouldn't let me teach."

"What are they teaching?"

"Soul growth," she answers with her head still down.

"Isn't that just sitting still and reading? Sounds boring," you say as an effort to cheer her up.

She sighs deeply. "It is, but."

"Why don't you teach with me?" you suggest.

Her head lunges up and two huge pair of glittering eyes stare at you. A smile almost as big as her entire face emerges and you can hear a faint squeal. Monster Kid was pretty close in his portrayal.

"Yes, human and monster teaching together! We will be gods of knowledge," she cheers with fists clenched in happiness! "So, what are we teaching?"

"Science."

Her shoulders sink a bit.

"Don't give me that. I can teach it all by myself if I want."

She sighs again. "What kind of science then?"

"Physics."

An eyebrow emerges from behind her eye patch.

"Forces, how things react when you bump into them. Gravity as well," you explain.

"I remember gravity," she cheers. "It was, eh, how things fall down."

"A bit more complicated than that but in the grand scheme of things, yes."

"What do you want me to do? Can I suplex the desk, show them how much force I can push out?"

You smile at the image. "I don't know exactly, but I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Great!"

You sit down next to her and wait for the current class to end. Undyne has a very hungry look on her face. You're not sure if she should have it.

After a while Toriel exits the classroom. You greet her, and she waves back.

"Hello, my child," she spots Undyne. "Undyne, why are you still here? Are you waiting for Alphys? I told you, she has a meeting with Asgore after her class."

"I know ma'am. We're teaching together," she explains while pointing at you.

"Oh, you are?" she asks you.

You nod. "Yes, I thought that some more demonstration could make the learning easier for the kids."

Toriel shifts her eyes to Undyne, and then back to you. "I'm sure that will go...great. If anything happens, please inform me."

"Will do ma'am," Undyne reassures while saluting.

"You will, right?" she asks again with her eyes still on you.

"Yes, I will," you also reassure.

"Good. Now if you could excuse me, I have some tests that needs to be graded."

She leaves you and Undyne and enters an office.

"Can't be too long now if Toriel left. Are you excited?" Undyne asks you with a big smile.

"Very," you answer.

This might backfire.

Undyne kicks in the door, as is tradition, and positions herself behind the desk. Two heavy hand palms come crashing down on it and the desk moans in pain. The classroom goes silent. You decide to wait outside, at a safe distance, to see what she has planned.

She pushes off the desk and straightens her back. "OK, wimps, books and heads open. We got some serious science to get through, and I don't want any interruptions. We're the gods of knowledge, and when we're done with you." She rubs her hands together with a steadfast grin. "You're gonna be stuffed with so much information that you'll explode from the sheer amount of awesome."

She forms a spear and points it at you. "Now, let me introduce you to my partner in teaching. With their human science they will suplex your mind into the ground. You will stand up after and ask for more, that is an order!"

She beckons you with her spear and you roll in with your wheelbarrow. Like a sneeze after a tornado the electrical engine tries its best to sound as loud as Undyne, but it's no match. You wave to the class and a mix between fear and awe stares back at you. You stand yourself next to Undyne.

"Hello, everyone. In today's lesson we will learn about physics."

"Yes we will!" Undyne adds a little too close to your head.

You make some formulas on the whiteboard while you clean out the yell from your ear. "Physics is the study of forces, motion and energy. To help me demonstrate I brought with me, Undyne."

Undyne waves to the class with a big goofy smile.

"Why don't we start off with a small demonstration shall we. Undyne, could you make your spears blunt so that they don't destroy the floor?"

"Of course she can do that. She's Undyne, the coolest monster," says a voice from the class.

Undyne gives the small monster a thumbs up. "Yes, I can do that," she answers you.

"Good, what I want you to do is to throw your spear at an angle upwards."

She does that and the spear lands with a spark rather than a thump. It takes you a couple of seconds before you understand that it was the spear that made the sound.

"See how it arched?" you ask the class. "We are all being dragged down to earth by a force called gravity. It is what causes rain to fall and spears to land on the ground."

"What about the bird that carries you over a disproportionately small gap? Why aren't they falling down?" asks another monster child.

"Because, just like the spear," you start. You motion Undyne for another, she obliges. "It can create enough force to beat out gravity. Just like you do when you jump up. Undyne gives the spear force with her arm." Undyne flexes at the mention of her arms. "And the bird flaps its wings, creating a force that points down and evens out gravity. Now, for something really interesting."

You take out two plastic balls from the desk. "Watch this!" You throw one ball while simultaneously dropping the other. The one you drop hits the floor way before the one that you threw. You look over your class of question marks. As you pick up both of the balls you feel that they're not the same weight. "Hm, guess I can't demonstrate the theory."

"What's the problem?" asks Undyne.

"They're not the same weight, the experiment needs two objects of the same weight," you explain.

She flashes you a smile. "No problem, I got this. Open your hand."

You do as she says and she creates a spear and pushes the handle into your your palm. You make an involuntary sound as it touches your skin but you soon notice that it doesn't shock or burn you. It feels warm to the touch, but it is a comforting warmth, like a hand warmer on a windy autumn day. You bounce it up a couple of times but it seems to always stay balanced when it lands. You weigh it in your hand.

"A warning would've been nice," you say with a worried laughter.

She smiles at your misfortune. "That would've been boring. I wanted to see how you reacted."

"It is kinda light, could you make it heavier?"

She grabs the spear for a second and when she lets go of it it feels like it is made of dense metal. You struggle to keep a hold of it.

"A bit lighter."

She makes it lighter, it hurts your eyes.

"I meant less weight, and darker too."

It now has some weight to it, not much, but good enough.

"I need another one for my demonstration. Same weight," you say with your other hand open towards her. She creates another in it.

"Yo, they look like Doggo," says Monster Kid. The other kids agree. You give Undyne a quizzical look.

"A guard in Snowdin. He wields two blades, like you."

You nod despite not fully understanding. "OK, now, let's try this again." You throw one spear straight forward and let the other one fall down. They land at the same time and produce a loud spark. "As you can see, gravity doesn't care if you're moving forward, it pulls you down regardless of speed. Undyne, show them. Toss one of your spears forward and let another one drop."

Undyne creates two spears. You give her a chair and she stands herself in position.

"Undyne will now show that you can throw your spear as hard as you can and it will still hit the ground at the same time as the one that she drops as long as they start from the same height."

She drops one and throws the other. It zips out the classroom door.

"Now, as-" you start before you're interrupted by a loud thud. It is shortly followed by the sound of the other spear hitting the floor, the sounds are different.

You lean out into the lobby and see the spear sizzling at the bottom of the office Toriel is in. The lower part of the door is bent inward from the impact. Toriel flings the door open, and you can see papers falling down gently behind her. You wave at her with a guilty smile before you close the classroom door. Undyne is frozen in place and her color is draining. The children are staring at you and those with jaws have them on the ground. You clear your throat. "Yes, um, how about we do some reading?"

You write the pages on the white board and walk over to Undyne.

"You alright there Undyne?" you ask her with a hand outstretched.

She grabs it. "She knows I did it?" she says while staring at the door.

"Couldn't tell, did you disperse your spear in time?" you answer as you help her down.

"No."

You breathe through clenched teeth. "Then she might suspect something, I'll try to talk her out of it, don't worry. How about you go home and work out? Get some color back."

She nods with a blank stare. "Good idea. Thank you." She goes for the door, but halts halfway. She ponders for a bit before she turns around and jumps out of the window. Luckily the kids have their heads deep inside their books. You spend the rest of the remaining time showing more calmer experiments.

The bell rings in the end of your class. You tell the kids their homework and dismiss them. As you finish cleaning off the white board you hear the door close.

"Can I talk to you?"

You breathe out, was only a matter of time. "Anytime Toriel, what's the matter?"

"Human, don't take me for a fool. What happened with the door?" she asks firmly.

"It was hit, it was an accident," you shrug.

"It was one of Undyne's spears, right?"

"It was flattened out, it didn't leave a mark."

She shows the size of the hole with her hands. "The bottom half is hanging by a splinter. Greater Dog could fit."

"Who?"

"A guard in Snowdin."

You nod. "Ah, like Doggo?"

"Yes, but that isn't relevant right now. What is relevant is explaining the broken door to your human leaders."

You start packing your things while she talks. "Can't Asgore pull some strings? This should be a piece of cake for him."

"Yes, he can, but it is a finite resource. I'm not really comfortable spending it on petty things like this."

"Hence why you're building your monster school?"

She flinches. "How do you know that? Who told you?"

"You said before that you planned on building one, I just guessed that's it," you lie.

Her shoulders sink. "Is it that obvious?"

"No, I just knew that you had one planned. It looks like a normal human construction site," you try to comfort.

"Good, good. There's still some tension between monsters and humans. I wouldn't want it to be destroyed before it was built."

"Neither would I, it is closer to where I live."

She snickers and you can see her posture relaxing. "I'm glad I hired you. Are you in the mood for some lunch?"

"I'm eating at home." You kick your wheelbarrow lightly. "Need to bring this one back."

"You planned to use it in your class today?"

You give the wheelbarrow a light rev. "That was the plan, yes. It was supposed to help me visualize friction and forces."

"I would've loved to see that, human," she smiles at you.

You return it. "I'm sure I can work it in another time."

She nods. "I think so to."

Toriel excuses herself and returns into her office, closing the door gently behind her. You pack up your stuff and roll out of the Town Hall.

As you near the monster's neighborhood you see Alphys pacing back and forth uncomfortably outside her house. You wave to her and she shuffles towards you. You meet her halfway.

"Human, I-I need your help," she says while out of breath.

"What is it?"

She starts hyperventilating. "I n-need to get to the Underground, but I can't get hold off P-Papyrus."

"Can't Undyne carry you there?"

"S-she is sick, I think, she is pale, and she's locked herself inside her room."

"Are you missing something important?"

She clutches her head as her breathing increases and you can her tiny whimpers. You bend down and check the battery level on your wheelbarrow, it is full. You also have a spare at home. Are you sure that you want to do this? Going alone into the Underground, the home of the monsters, carrying their Royal Scientist on a wheelbarrow? The surprise factor may protect you, you think. Do the monsters know about you, do you have Asgore's blessing?

Sobs from Alphys pull you back to reality. You can't leave her like this. You make your decision.

"Get in," you order Alphys.

"W-what?" she says with a perplexed look.

"Get in the wheelbarrow. It has a motor, it is the best I can offer," you explain. "You were the one that said that the meeting was important, get in the wheelbarrow. We need to make a quick stop at my house but after that we'll go straight down. You can lead the way."

"I-I think so, but, I don't k-know."

"You want my help or not?"

She nods and climbs clumsily on board. You give your motor full throttle and start your journey.


	18. Keep on rolling

You leave Alphys outside your house while you rush inside and change clothes. After you've changed you fill two water bottles and retrieve the spare battery for your wheelbarrow before you run back out. Alphys says that she'll hold on to the things and you thank her for that. A group of people stop in their track as they see you and Alphys rolling down the street. You pull over your hood over your head as you see them fish out their phones.

The rest of the paved way is calmer and devoid of people, the only thing that can be heard is your footsteps and the electrical motor. As you pass the cemetery you remember that you promised you'd visit again. Not now though, maybe later.

The wheel has a surprisingly good amount of traction on the dirt road that follows the pavement and you don't have to waste energy correcting it as you pick up the pace. You ask your passenger for a sip of water and she fumbles with the cap before she hands it to you. A quick drink later you're rejuvenated and ready to climb the mountain.

You ask Alphys to dismount so that you can gather speed and charge through the overgrown passage.

"W-we can just take the road," she suggests as she dismounts.

"What road? This is the only way up to the cave."

She blushes before pointing with a flustered claw over to the side. "I forgot to tell you, we made a road so that Papyrus can drive up and down the mountain."

"Oh yeah, that makes sense. Good thinking. Where is it?"

She gives you some directions as she climbs back on. You follow them and come across a simple, but well used, road leading up the mountain. The wheelbarrow wheel fits in the tracks and you start your ascension. It is slightly heavier now but you feel that you can do it.

Halfway up you start to struggle and your speed decreases. A couple of minutes later the motor stops and you fall over. The wheelbarrow and its contents follow.

You reach out a hand to Alphys. "I'm so sorry, the battery died. You all right, Alphys?"

She brushes herself off and reassures you that she is fine. You nod and start replacing the empty battery. The motor roars with new vigor and you take another mouthful of water before you and Alphys continue.

"Were almost there, human, I-I can see the plateau," Alphys informs a couple of minutes later.

"Great!" you manage to respond in between breaths.

The sun is reflecting in the mountainside and thousand of tiny white dots fill it and your vision. Alphys is holding an arm over her eyes. You'd love to as well, but you need to keep yours on the handles. You squint your eyes, and almost stumble as your vision narrows.

Your eyes hurt real bad as you reach the plateau, but at least now it is just bright, and not blinding now that you walk along the side of the mountain instead of towards it. Your vision is still mostly purple though. As the way flattens out you feel the engine and you relaxing. You check the battery level, a fourth of the energy have been spent. You've spent a fair bit more, you feel.

"Hopefully the way down to the Underground is much shorter than the way up to it," you say to Alphys.

You realize how stupid it sounds, but luckily Alphys responds that she didn't hear what you said. You wave it off with a laugh.

The cave is even darker than before, but two tracks help you navigate. They're well worn. With some helpful warnings from Alphys you manage to stay upright. As your vision acclimates to the dark you see a stone that seems familiar, but you can't really put your finger on why. The deeper you go the darker it gets, and the whirring of your motor bounces freely on the cave walls.

As you round a corner your eyes are blasted back to blindness. A bright corridor is erected before you. You struggle to make out its form, it is pure white as far as your squinting eyes can see. An ominous atmosphere hangs thick despite the blinding light. The only thing that helps you orientate yourself in this shapeless light is Papyrus' tracks. You follow them.

After a while you come upon a set of different marks. They're colorful and are similar to blast impacts. Slices of blue and orange cover another large part of the ground. There's also small footprints littering the area.

"What happened here, Alphys?" you ask as you look over the scarred ground.

She is avoiding your eyes.

"Some kind of battle? Magic battle?" you try again.

She turns around. You walk around your wheelbarrow, she turns back the other way.

You put a hand on her shoulder, and feel her tense up. "Alphys, what happened here? I'm serious. It's glowing, it's obviously magic."

"I don't kn-now," she answers weakly.

You remove your hand. "You don't know?"

She squeezes her tail. "No, I don't."

"Who does?"

She squeezes her tail harder. "I-I don't know."

"Frisk then, do they know? The footprints are the same size as theirs."

She freezes.

"Then I'll ask Frisk about it later, let's go."

You can hear her gnawing on her claws before you continue.

The corridor ends after a while and you find yourself standing in a garden not unlike the one Asgore have at his Surface home. It has less variety but is more orderly with golden flowers at its center surrounded by green plants. Two thick valleys carve the yellow center and the flowers between them are blackened. You're still on Papyrus's trail, good. The garden bed ends with an ornate door and as you enter you gasp in disbelief.

You stand in another corridor but this one is a kaleidoscope of color. Orange and yellow tiles don the floor and colorful glass windows brings in a large variety of different shades. Thick pillars hold up a beautiful mural of different monsters and locations. You don't recognize any locations, but you do recognize a few monsters. Undyne, Asgore, and Toriel.

There's another goat monster though, a small one. Asgore and Toriel are holding it between them, and a white heart is breaking above it. You also think you see another figure among them, but its color blends in with the background, and you can't really make it out.

You nudge Alphys again. "Who is that, the goat being held by Asgore and Toriel?"

"That's Asr-" she stops.

"Asr? Boy or girl?" you pry.

"I don't, I can't, s-sorry," she says with an increasingly unstable voice.

"They related to Asgore and Toriel? Is it their child? Why haven't I seen them in class?"

You can hear her moaning.

"They away? Allergic to the sun?" You stop in realization. "They're dead aren't they?"

You receive a very weak nod from Alphys.

"Oh no, no, no, I'm such a jerk!" You clutch your head! "All those times, it makes sense now. What have I done?" You squeeze your hair, almost tearing it off. "That wound, I have poured so much salt in it. Dammit, I have to apologize to them."

"N-no! Don't!" she begs with panic in her voice.

"Why not?"

"If they find out that you k-know about, h-him, I, I don't know h-how they'll react. D-don't ment-tion a-anything about this to them."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I am."

Her lack of stutter convinces you. You nod and continue.

As you exit the orange room your world turns gray. Gray buildings, gray walkways, gray everything. You blink a couple of times to try to reset your vision.

"Y-you alright, you n-need more water?" Alphys asks while holding the blue water bottle in her yellow hand.

"Oh, there's still color," you say before you take a drink. "Um, why is everything gray?"

She shrugs. "The city? I don't know, it's just gray."

What the city lacks in color it makes up in architecture, huge buildings with a mixture of old and new techniques. Old for humans that is, you've no clue if this is modern architecture for the monsters. You recognize a couple of buildings, and hazard a guess that some architecture books must have fallen down. Papyrus' tracks end at the same time the pathway ends and a bunch of tangled up tracks cover the ground. It looks like this is where he stops, but where is his car?

"A b-bit closer please," says Alphys.

You bend over. "What now?"

"I can't reach the button, can you move me a bit closer to the console?"

You look up and see a pair of sliding doors with a pair of buttons next to them. A small nudge later and Alphys pushes one. A deep humming emerges from behind the doors, it sounds almost like Asgore.

You chuckle at the thought of Asgore doing ghostly noises to scare his kid. You would've loved to meet them and you wonder if they would take after Toriel or Asgore the most. A thick, burly voice and a long luscious and golden hair calling everyone my child. The thought brings a mix of sadness and joy.

A high pitched ping signals that the elevator is up.

"You think we'll fit with this?" you ask Alphys.

"W-we should be able to."

The door opens up to a surprisingly roomy elevator and you slide easily in with space to spare.

"Push the button that says 'CORE'."

You do so, and the spooky noise returns. The ride takes a while and you take the opportunity to refresh yourself with some water. It tastes a bit bitter. You open up the flask to inspect it, but you can't find anything wrong. You take another sip, it is very bitter now.

You show her your bottle. "Alphys, is your water bitter as well?"

She turns around to reveal that she's stuffed her nose with two plugs.

"No, my water is fine," she says with a muffled voice.

"Why is there two plugs in your nose?"

As the elevator door opens you figure out why. A wave of sharp smelling air comes crashing in like an odor tsunami. A foul smell fills your lungs and you cough in retaliation.

"Ozone?" you ask out loud.

"Ozone w-what?"

You grasp your nose. "The smell, it is ozone. Why is it here?"

"Wait, I-I think I have an extra p-pair."

She hands you a pair of plugs and you shove them in without thinking. The smell is reduced, but it still lingers in your mouth. You thank her with your own muffled voice and continue. From now on you breathe as carefully as possible. The CORE is as blue as the corridor you just visited before was orange. Below you pulsates something with the same white as the shapeless light you stumbled on before. Arcs of lightning shoot up below you as you walk through the sharp smelling CORE. Alphys is not freaking out over them, weird.

"The whips of deadly energy below us? You familiar with it?"

"M-magical energy, electricity," she answers without looking.

"And Papyrus drives over this walkway? With the children?" you ask with a worried voice.

"No, he d-drives another way."

"And why can't we take the same way?" you ask as a burst of magic erupts in the pool of energy below you.

"T-the other way l-leads through New Home. I did-dn't think you'd want the attention."

You nod. "Oh, then thank you. Still," another splash of magic explodes under you, "couldn't hurt with some guard rails."

"W-we have magical barriers, my design, you see, at the edge there's," she rinses out her mouth of the ozone before she continues, "t-there's a sensor that senses energy, it's tuned not to react to t-the energy below us of course, and it erects a force field if it detects something."

"Serious? That's awesome!" you say with glee in your voice, or is it ozone.

She blushes a bit. "T-thank you, human, it means a lot coming from you."

"Anything else that's cool about it? Besides everything that is."

"N-no it's just..." You throw your water bottle towards the edge of the walkway eagerly waiting for it to bounce back. "It only works for creatures with souls."

The water bottle stirs up a larger eruption of magic as it disappears into the sea of light. Alphys turns her head around to you.

"D-did I say something wrong?" she wonders as she sees your frowned face.

You shake your head at your own stupidity. "What, oh, no, not at all. Um, could I have a sip of water? I've finished mine, you see."

"Yeah, no prob-blem. I might have made it mine though."

"What do you mean you made it yours?" you ask as she hands you the bottle.

"Unauthorized user detected. CAPS LOCK ENGAGED!" the bottle screams out as you take it. You almost drop it.

"Any way to disable it?" you ask as you try to twist open the caps. It's locked tight and you can't move it an inch.

"I haven't p-programmed it in yet," Alphys confesses.

"This bottle will inform the authorities in ten seconds," the bottle threatens. "Please return this bottle to its original owner."

You hand it back to her before you go to monster jail. "You prioritized that over guest access?"

"Well, we m-might meet Jerry and-"

"Jerry?" you interrupt.

"A monster."

"A guard in Snowdin as well?" you guess.

"N-no, I hope not. T-that would be awful. Undyne would despise her job if he joined." She turns around to you. "B-besides, Jerry is not a dog."

"Good to know," you lie. "Before I forget, how did you program my, your, water bottle? Where did you get all the pieces?"

"I had some spare parts in my pocket. My magic also allows me to tinker very easily. It helped me become the R-royal Scientist," Alphys explains.

"You sound a bit ashamed saying that, I thought magic was natural to monsters."

Her grip tightens on the water bottle. "N-no, it's not t-that it is."

She starts fiddling with her tail again. You've learned that tell by now, and decide to drop the subject. Good thing too since your throat is filled with sharp smelling ozone, you'd be wise to spare it.

As you travel further down the smell subsides and after some time you cough it all out and take some long awaited clean breaths. You remove your nose plugs and hand them to Alphys. She gives you a confused and disgusted look and you apologize once you realize. You toss them over the edge of the walkway and a large sizzle erupts shortly after.

When you've filled your lungs with fresh, fresher, air you notice that your surroundings have become more, pipey. Instead of the clean and flat metal walls you're now surrounded by pipes that squeak and vibrate alarmingly common. A nearby pressure gauge is in the red, so you scuttle past it quickly.

"Is this really safe?" you ask as a pipe burst a safe distance away from you.

"I don't k-know," Alphys answers as another gauge above you turns red.

"At least say that we're almost out."

"J-just around this corner."

You round it. "There's just a wall here. It's very dark as well, can't see a thing."

Alphys asks you to get closer to it. She pushes an almost invisible button and another deep hum starts.

"Oh, didn't see it," you inform.

Another pair of sliding doors opens up and illuminate the dark hallway. As you turn around to chose the floor you think you catch a glimpse of something moving in the shadows. "Did you catch that?"

"N-no, but there might b-be some monsters here."

"They live here?" you say as another shadow crosses your field of vision.

She pushes a button named MTT Resort and the doors close. "Yes, the CORE provides electricity to the entire Underground. It needs monsters to maintain it."

"Shouldn't that have been your job, you're the chief scientist aren't you?"

"I had other as-ssignments."

"Like?"

She squeezes her tail harder

"I guess you were probably busy creating awesome inventions like the force field. Am I close?" you say in an attempt to cheer her up.

"I did m-make a jetpack."

You feel your eyes shoot wide open. "You made a... Seriously? That is, I can't even describe it!" You frown, just in case. "Wait, you're not pulling my leg now are you?"

"N-no I made one, y-you can ask Frisk?"

You bend down to Alphys' level. "Frisk has a jetpack?"

"N-not any more, but they had one b-before."

You stand up again with wonder in your voice. "A jetpack. Wow. Could you maybe make one for me? Would make the journey quicker, just saying."

"D-depends if you h-have enough, no, no I c-can't." She shakes her head while curling up.

"Enough what?" The end of her tail is now turning red. You let out a deep sigh. "It's OK, Alphys, I can survive without a jetpack," you lie.

The red gives way for the returning yellow color.

"Anything else you made? Anything as cool as a jet pack?"

"Well I made-"

The elevator stops and the doors open.

"Mettaton! Yes, darling, it is the real Mettaton speaking, now why are you wasting my time? Workplace hazard? The fountain? No, it is to accommodate the more aquatic variants of our people now that the aquarium is filling up. You're not racist, are you now Mr. Health And Safety, or should I say Mr. Only Land Monsters In MTT Resort. Exactly, that's what I thought, darling. Don't forget to tune in later this afternoon. Say hi to the kids and the wife from me. Love you, darling! Kiss!"

The upright cousin of your wheelbarrow turns towards the now open elevator as it closes its cell phone. "Alphys, sweetie, do you have the spare lights I needed?"

"I forgot them, sorry. B-but I might have some in the Lab."

"It's OK, Alphy, I can host in my EX form tonight." The robot lifts his, face. "I see you brought a friend. You look familiar, have we met?" the robot asks as it rolls up to you.

"Um, I think so, you dragged off Undyne, if my memory serves me right," you answer.

"Oh yeah, the human teacher! I've heard so much about you. Tell me, could you perhaps pencil in a couple of hours in the evening at let's say, ah screw it, I'll give you prime time. Meet me here in a couple of hours."

"Anything special I should wear? What are we doing?" you ask, confused by the situation.

"Fighting with bare hands! Yes, you tell him that if he so much as thinks about entering the resort again I'll personally show his face how much he redecorated the suite," Mettaton explains loudly into his phone as he wheels into a nearby door.

"You have any idea what he wants with me?" you ask Alphys while you start rolling again.

"M-maybe h-he wants you to appear on h-his show."

You furrow your brow at the notion. "I think I heard something about that before. Asgore seemed a bit... Is this show dangerous?"

"F-frisk appeared on one."

"And what happened?"

"They defeated Mettaton."

You turn around to the door Mettaton used. "He seems fine to me."

A well dressed monster opens the front door for you and wishes you a safe journey. It also reminds you that you're welcome back at any time.

"I had to fix him up afterwards. It was so c-cool seeing Frisk p-pose, it looked like an anime," Alphys explains with glee in her voice.

"So a dance off of sorts?" you guess.

"Y-yeah, and cooking."

"Cooking, like, baking?" you ask, surprised.

"Yeah, baking hum-" she stops.

"Hum? Humus?"

Alphys nods quickly, a bit too quickly. "Y-yeah, baking humus."

You stop and walk lean yourself next to Alphys. "You've no idea what humus is, Alphys."

She bends her head over.

You stand up again. "What else starts with hum? Human?" You don't get a no in response. "You...you're kidding right? You cook humans? You wanted to bake Frisk?"

Alphys taps her claws together nervously. "N-no, yes, but no. It's a long story. I-I just wanted to be cool."

"Alphys, you made a jet pack, you're cool in my book," you comfort. "Still, why bake Frisk?"

"View ratings, f-for the d-dance off. You really think I'm cool?"

"Jet pack, Alphys, a jet pack," you repeat. "You also made a sentient robot. I mean, as far as cool things go they're pretty high on that list."

"I learned it from your h-human anime," she confesses.

"Some videos slipped down the cracks?" you guess again.

She nods. "Yes."

"Have you found some, um, grown up anime?"

"The kind with blood and where people die?"

You feel your eyes dart back and forth. "Uh, sure, yes, those."

"Y-yeah I have some, they're Undyne's favorite. She always has comments on their fighting technique though."

"Punks, you can't swing a sword like that, it's not bound to your soul, use your magic, whelps!" You say while mimicking Undyne's voice poorly. Alphys laughs, it's not pleasant to your ears. "I would also guess that there would be some random flexing and deadly hugs."

"You have c-cameras on the Surface too, do you see everything we do?"

"Of course not, don't be silly," you laugh again. "What, do you have cameras here in the Underground?"

"I, um, I."

"Oh no, Alphys, really? Is someone watching us right now?" you say with a sigh.

"N-no, I have the monitor on sleep m-mode."

"But someone could get in and see us right now?"

She shakes her head. "I've locked the d-door."

"Fair enough."

The path soon turns red and you feel warmer. In fact, you're sweating, profusely. Alphys takes a big gulp and splashes some water on her face, before you can ask you see why. A large rocky cavern glows red before you and a series of stone paths hang suspended in the air with metal elevators connecting the different parts. Lava flows slowly and quietly below you and you guess it is the source of the heat. You reach for your water bottle, but you only grab air. You make a fist in anger and curse yourself.

Luckily the path is sloping downwards, towards the lava. With each step you take you feel the temperature rise and you feel like your water hose as sweat is sipping out of every pore. As you wipe your eyes off you see something strange. No, not here, it's not possible, it is too perfect. You lean down to Alphys. "Alphys, am I going crazy?"

She looks at you with a scared face.

"Is that, an ice cream stall?" you ask and point towards what you hope is not a hallucination.

"Oh, Nice Cream Guy. I c-can buy you one, pay you back for the snack you bought me."

"I would love one," you say between heavy breaths.

Nice Cream Guy is a bit startled seeing you and Alphys approaching him but he quickly regains his composure. "Welcome, friends! What can I get you?"

"Hi, could I buy a nice cream for my friend?" Alphys asks.

You wave to Nice Cream Guy while resting yourself on the handles.

"Absolutely. I'm always glad to have new customers."

Alphys buys one and hands it to you. Your hand welcomes the cold and as it gets closer to your mouth, so does your tongue. Equilibrium spreads out from your mouth throughout your entire body and you greedily devour the rest of the cone, a bit too greedily.

You clutch your head in pain and the sound of sweat hitting sweat interrupts Nice Cream Guy's counting of Alphys' coin. A second later you fail to hold in an involuntary groan that sounds like a pained animal and interrupt him again. You make an apologetic smile and focus on holding in the rest of the pain.

"Thank you for your purchase, here," Nice Cream Guy thanks after he finally manages to finish counting. He gives Alphys a punch card. "Make two more purchases and get one free. Make sure to tell your friends, if they think Hotland is too hot, they can always come to me."

You wave goodbye and lift the wheelbarrow with one hand. You push the other one against your forehead to hold the cold in. The pain disappears after a while but the cold feeling stays. It feels good.

"Where to now?" you ask as you come upon a crossroad hanging over a sea of lava. You're a safe distance away but you still can't stop thinking about it.

"Left, to t-the elevator."

You enter it and Alphys presses a button labeled Lab.

"You never told me why we had to hurry," you realize.

"Asg-gore summoned me to the Lab."

You brush some sweat off your forehead. "Must be important then."

"Y-yes."

You check the battery, almost empty. You pout your lips in annoyance. "Hopefully I can charge my batteries."

"M-maybe I can build something."

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

The door opens and you see a large white building and confirm with Alphys that it is the Lab. You push your cart, it goes nowhere. You give it some throttle and it moans in exhaustion.

"How long till we get to the Lab?"

"Just a c-couple more turns."

"Maybe we're lucky, hopefully the battery survives."

You have to almost push the entire weight as you near the door. You give your throttle a last good twist and the motor cries out with its last energy. Because of that you manage to gather some speed and you turn the throttle back down so that you can glide for the last bit. It doesn't respond, it's locked in position.

"Something is wrong," you say out loud.

The door is getting closer and you now need to run to avoid tripping over. You twist the throttle harder but it won't budge, you rattle it but to no avail. A squeal makes your head lunge up and you see the door just a couple of steps in front of you. You brace for impact but the door opens and the wheel hits the doorstep hard and snaps. Alphys flies out.

"Welcome to the Underground!" Asgore finishes before he's interrupted by Alphys crashing into his back.

He turns around and catches her before she falls down. Asgore's glass is not as lucky, and it shatters as it hits the floor. You tumble over the wheelbarrow and land clumsily before a series of legs. You recognize the material, suit pants. As you look up you recognize the Mayor's face and the one of the Prime Minister.

"Golly, this is, this is Alphys, our Royal Scientist," Asgore presents Alphys like one would a baby, and she waves with an embarrassed hand. "And this is the teacher I was talking about." You wave with an equally embarrassed hand. "Now that we're all here, plus one," Asgore adds while looking at you. "Why don't we start our tour of the Underground?"


	19. Anime made real

"Alphys, I don't want to be rude, and by the way, thank you for letting me use your shower. It felt good to clean that ozone off." She gives you a nod. "But, is there a chance that you have some more, normal clothing?" you ask as you try to tug your shirt further down. It puts up a good fight and you must abandon your efforts since it just bounces back however hard you pull at it.

"Isn't it normal?" she wonders with a blush.

"You ever seen me wear something like this?" you confront her as you turn yourself towards her. Your cape tangles around your leg and a shoulder pad slips, hitting the side of your throat. The tiara on your head gets crooked. You correct it. "Pink and yellow isn't really my style, you know. Could do with some more pants as well." You untangle the patterned cape and notice your boots. "Are those, cat ears?"

"Mikkarama ears," Alphys corrects.

"Sorry?"

"M-mikkarama, it's a subset of cats, they have magical powers," she explains.

"They're monsters?"

She shakes her head. "No, t-they're from an anime."

"Should have guessed." You tap your toes on the ground to get your foot in a better position. The nose of the shoes wrinkles. "Wait, they move?"

"They're c-controlled by your feet."

You wiggle your toes and the ears move as well, whiskers emerge from the shoes when you flex your toes. The whiskers dance before they retract and you blink as you process what just happened.

"I've got nothing," you say as you re position the loose shoulder pad, it is way too big for you, almost Asgore sized. "Was it really necessary to sew the pads and the cape to the shirt? Without them I think I could pass it off as training clothes."

"They're also connected to y-you. Make a pose."

As you strike a pose and the cape starts flapping heroically. You look yourself in the mirror and can't help but feel pride. It stops as you relax yourself. "Fair enough, the cape can stay then. The shoulder pads should go though."

"They're made for p-protection."

"Like, from swords and magical spells?"

She nods while tapping her claws together. "Yes."

"I appreciate the thought, but I can't have it karate chopping me in the neck every time I turn around."

Try as you might, the pads stay on your shoulders and while you twist them to try to loosen them up they erect spikes made of energy. They go through your hand and you instinctively scream and retract it. When you inspect it you see that it is fine. The spikes didn't harm you. "Alphys, I wouldn't call that protection. It scared the life out of me," you make absolutely clear with panicked breath heaving out of you.

"I-it s-senses the wearers skin and programs the spikes not to i-injure the wearer."

You massage your hand. "Any other surprises?"

"S-shouldn't be."

You make your way towards the bathroom to change back. "Again, I'm grateful that you even have human clothes, but this is too much for me, sorry. I'll figure something else out."

"I'm s-sorry, I j-just though it would look pretty."

"If anyone is pretty here it's you, Alphys. That dress makes you look magical," you yell through the closed door.

She makes an embarrassed laugh and you can hear fabric being strained.

"No, darling stop, you'll ruin it! I had it handmade just for you and now you're wringing the color out of it. Hands off!" comes a voice from the other side.

"M-Mettaton? Why are y-you here?" Alphys stammers out in surprise.

You try to reach the zipper located on your back.

"I came for the spare light, Alphy dear. The ratings show that EX only works with a guest, and the next one canceled. Don't worry, I'll have her head for it."

"I-I think I have them lying around here somewhere."

Your arm can't reach the zipper from above your shoulder so you decide to try from the side. A spike shoots up right next to your eye as you lean under your other arm and you make a startled yell.

"Who is that in there?" Mettaton ask curiously.

"T-the human, they're changing."

"They can do that? Interesting, maybe I won't need Radentim. Why didn't Frisk do it?"

"Changing clot-thes," she clarifies.

"Oh, then I must see what they're wearing. It might clash with the decorations."

Three fast knocks echo from the bathroom door.

"Occupied," you answer while you twist your spine to try to reach the zipper.

"Hello, human, darling, I was just wondering what your outfit is?"

Your fingers close in on their target. You can feel the zipper on your fingertips, just a bit further. "It is coming off, that's for certain."

"We'll resort to that later, if the views go down," Mettaton answers, despite you not asking him.

"This zipper is going down!" you yell in triumph as you finally manage to get a hold.

A metal hand crashes through the door and unlocks it. "Oh no, we can't be having that." The handle is pushed down and the arm is retracted back through the hole it made. "Darling dear! This is perfect! You look gorgeous!" Mettaton squeals out with both his hands on his chins...sides. "Come, we must hurry up and write your contract."

Another pair of extended hands are thrown out against you. They pick you up with a firm grasp and you lose your grip on the zipper.

"I heard Alphys scream, is everything alright? Where are you going Mettaton, and why are you carrying the human?" Asgore asks in rapid succession as you and Mettaton speed past him.

"We're going for the gold!" Mettaton yells back.

You don't manage to call for help before the Lab door is closed behind you.

Sweat barely manages to form on you before you reach the elevator. The ride is long and silent. Mettaton's holding you comfortably so you can't really complain. Good suspension on his leg as well, you didn't feel anything while he dashed through Hotland. You make a mental note to praise Alphys for her design. As the elevator stops your tiara slides down your face, you remove it and massage your nose.

"Put it back on," Mettaton commands.

You remount it on your head quickly.

You can't hear them since you're moving so fast but you can see the monsters you pass whisper to each other.

"Be sure to tune in an hour, I've got a special guest tonight!" Mettaton shouts as you speed through the suburban area in front of MTT Resort.

The doorkeeper greets master Mettaton and his guest and wishes Mettaton good luck with his show.

"Oh darling, I know you want that raise but money is a bit stingy now", Mettaton answers with a flail of his hand.

The door is closed hard behind you.

You're placed in a chair in a small, but beautifully decorated, room and another monster is called by Mettaton. A green monster with four arms enters from another door holding a variety of scissors and bottles.

"Good evening, Mettaton. How can I be of service today?" the monster offers as it makes its way to you.

"I know you want that raise, Radentim. Money is a bit stingy at the moment I'm afraid."

You can hear Radentim snipping a scissor hard next to you. There's also the sound of a printer. You turn around carefully so that you don't set off your shoulder pad and see Mettaton holding up a picture. It looks to be a character wearing a similar outfit to yours. No tiara though, Alphys must have added it on her own whim.

"I want them looking as close to this as possible! Thank you, dear, you're a gem."

Mettaton gives Radentim the picture. Radentim picks up a pair of small glasses as she studies it. A metal hand is placed on your shoulder and spikes shoot up through it. Mettaton takes a glance towards his hand and shrugs.

"Oh, Alphy, you and your little gadgets. Listen, human, Radentim is gonna make you more gorgeous than ever. Just sit back and relax. Can I also get a signature here?"

You look down and see that a worryingly thick pile of paper lies on the desk before you. "I might need some time to read it through," you inform him.

"Oh, darling we don't have time for that."

"But it is a- Hey!"

Mettaton takes your hand in his non pierced one and scribbles some ink above a line- "Great, see you in half an hour, darling!" He rolls out the door while dialing his phone. His other hand is shooting sparks from the holes your pads made.

"So, human, before we start, can you regrow limbs?" Radentim asks after a minute of studying the picture.

"No," you say with a blank stare.

"Can you regrow anything?"

You shake your head while looking at them in the mirror. "Still no. Why are you asking?"

"There's a discrepancy between your proportions and the proportions of the human on the picture."

"Let me see."

Radentim shows you the picture and you spot the problem. You're not the same sex as the character.

"I can probably fix your form, but it might take a bit longer since I must reshape rather than recreate," she explains as she snips her scissor again.

"You-you're thinking of reshaping me, to look like that?" you say with your finger on the character.

"How else would I do it?"

"I don't know? Make up, haircut, anything but changing my flesh," you say with a raised voice.

"Your what?"

"My flesh," you say again.

"My apologies, I still don't follow."

"Humans are made of flesh, not magic."

She removes her glasses. "You sure?"

"Yes, I am."

Two of her arms scratch her head. "I've never heard of flesh. Is it at least similar to magic?"

You shake you head harder. "Not in the slightest."

"So how do you humans do when you want to pretty yourself up?"

You spot something familiar on her belt. "What's in those bottles?"

"I don't know. Mettaton had them dug out of the Garbage Dump," Radentim explains as she lifts a couple of bottles from her belt. "Said it would make me look more professional."

"Not that my pay would increase to reflect that," she adds under her breath.

"Can I have a look?"

Radentim hands you one of the bottle.

You squirt out some and try to form it as closely as you can to the picture. "See, hair mousse, we use it to style our hair."

"Amazing, you humans have some interesting magic."

"It's not magic it is...You know what, yes, we do have interesting magic. The metal tool you're holding, I guess that they're from the Garbage Dump as well, they're called scissors."

"Of course they're scissors, you thought I wouldn't know?" Radentim retorts with some anger in his voice. His?

"Wait a second, your voice changed."

"Yes, it did, my magic is reshaping. Mettaton hired me because of it, to make his guest as gorgeous as they would ever be."

You notice that he has a mustache over his upper lip now.

"Is it dangerous, the reshaping?"

"Oh no, the recipient must of course be willing to go through it of course otherwise I can't do anything. I can't go around changing folk on a whim if that's what you're thinking." Radentim runs a hand through your hair. "Could we rinse out this, mousse, before we start? My scissors would get stuck if I were to cut your hair now." He motions for another chair, and you follow him.

"Is the shaping permanent?" you ask as you lean back in the chair.

She opens a valve and hot water hits your head. Radentim starts massaging your head while she cleans out the mousse, it feels amazing.

"No, of course not, the receivers magic is pushed away temporarily so that I can shape it."

You feel yourself doze off a bit, and you wish your pads were gone so that you could ask Radentim to massage your shoulders as well. You feel that they're a bit sore from the journey with Alphys.

"So that's why you asked me if I could regrow my limbs," you say with a silent and somber voice as you can feel your eyelids becoming heavier.

Radentim lets out a small laugh. "Oh no, I don't do that, I just make that joke sometimes. You see, the reactions never fail to amuse me. No, my magic don't allow for any invasive reshaping like reforming limbs and shape, at most it can reshape hair or change the color of scales and such, and for the most time it is all that's needed."

You hear the words, but you don't process them as you let the relaxation take over.

"There, all done," you hear yourself say causing you to wake up with a lunge.

"Hehe, always works," Radentim laughs out as he cleans his instruments.

"Who, what?"

"That was me, I find that it's the most effective way of waking up my clients," Radentim says with your voice.

You put your hand on your pounding heart. "Could you do me a favor and never do that again?"

"Depends if you'll be my client again. Now, have a look in the mirror."

You jump out of the chair as you see the character from the photo staring back at you in the mirror. "How did you, I mean?" you stutter as you inspect your new form with your hands.

"I don't always use magic. Thanks by the way for showing me what the bottles are used for by the way. They will come in handy for later clients."

A door is pushed open and a monster wearing a headset peeks in. "Show's live in fifteen," it informs.

"Thank you. The human is ready," Radentim ensures.

"I'll tell M," it closes the door behind it as it leaves.

"Looks like our time together has come to an end. I hope you enjoy yourself out there, good luck human," Radentim informs.

You're still busy admiring Radentim's handiwork.

"Thank you, Radentim," she says with your voice again.

"What? Oh, sorry. I'm just flabbergasted, this is amazing," you explain.

"Don't sweat it, I get it a lot, and also it would probably loosen the glue a bit. I find that if people don't answer they really appreciate my work."

"Still, it was rude of me not to answer. Thank you Randetim, for, uh, this, I guess," you say as you run your hand over your new form again.

"You'll compete with M's EX form that's for sure."

You stand up from the chair. "EX form?"

"You don't know? Then this will be grand," he laughs. "Now off you go, I need to clean up. The stage entrance is three doors down to the left."

You're shoved out of the make up room and left standing in an empty corridor. The face you wear is still foreign and you inspect it one last time. Maybe it is for the best? Your true face will be concealed, could open up some opportunities. You smile at the thought. Third door to the left. You take a deep breath and enter.

A monster grabs your arm as soon as you enter the darkened studio. You're placed in a comfortable chair surrounded by velvet curtains.

"Three minutes! Let in the audience!" you hear a monster yell.

Heavy doors open and a large number of footstep draws closer to you. They stop a bit from you and mumbling fills the studio, you can't make out the words. You've no sense of time inside your felted cage, and after what feels to you like twenty minutes the mumbling stop.

You can feel your heart beating faster in response. You hear a click above you and the studio is filled with applause. Music starts playing and the floor under you rumbles. A loud mechanical sound almost drowns out the music and after a couple of seconds smoke sips in under the curtains. Cheers overtake the music and more clapping follows suit. They take a while to recede and without missing a beat you hear Mettaton's voice.

"Good evening darlings, welcome to part two of our human special. How can one forget last time? A fallen child making their way, alone and confused, through the Underground. They stumbled into our world and then they saved us from it. Today I have with me another human, but this one is an adult."

You hear another lamp powering up and the audience gasps.

"Will this one do as much for us as Frisk did? Or will they remind us why they erected the barrier?"

Another flick and the audience boos. You twist your face in annoyance.

"Or will they invite us up so we can bask in the sun and count the stars once again? And I'm not talking about the stars in the Waterfall."

The monster controlling the lamp is probably very tired now as they power on another lamp causing the audience to laugh.

"So, without further interruptions, I present to you, the human teacher!"

The curtain opens and you're blinded by the spotlight shining straight at you. Your eyes adapt after a while and you look out over the sea of applauding monsters. You lift an insecure hand and wave. The room explodes into more cheers.

"Now now, darling, save some for me."

You turn towards Mettaton's voice, but the face that greets you isn't his. For a starter, it's a face.

"Who, who're you?" you ask the robot.

"I can't hear you. You're not wearing a microphone? Guess somebody is getting fired today."

You hear panicked footsteps behind you.

The robot dives under his desk. "Wait, I think I have, ah, there we go," An old microphone is dug up from beneath the desk. The robot lays itself on the table stomach down and legs bent up. "Better now?" you hear Mettaton say through the speakers around you. The fabulous robot nods to himself. "Now, human, why don't you introduce yourself?"

The microphone is brought before you, but because it is being wielded by a unskilled hand it hits your mouth, and you blow through your lips instinctively.

"Well that's rude, I just wanted to ask a question."

You hear the familiar sound of the lamps above you and the audience laughs. You push the microphone a bit from your mouth.

"First, who are you? I was supposed to be with Mettaton."

The audience laughs without the light.

"Oh, darling, don't you recognize me?" he says while twirling his finger next to his face.

"Mettaton? Is this the EX form you were talking about?"

He rolls around seductively on the table before returning to his position on his stomach. He is leaning his head in his free hand now though. "Do you like it?"

You nod. "Sure. Alphys' design?"

"We cooperated, but enough about me, let's get to know you. First off, I've heard you were the first human our King and his companions saw on the Surface, is that correct?"

The microphone barely graces your lips this time. You still need to push it back.

"I guess so, we met in the cave. I don't know if they met any spelunkers though."

"Amazing! I've also heard that you teach the monster kids?" Mettaton puts a hand up to his ear. You can hear some murmuring coming from his ear. "Oh, looks like we got a call. Go on viewer, you're live."

"Hello, teacher. I can't give back my homework tomorrow, I tripped in front of Doggo and he attacked it. Is that OK?" you hear a kid's voice ask through the speakers.

The tension that's hanging in the air is as thick as syrup.

"Did you finish it?" you answer.

The audience starts cheering, but Mettaton shushes them.

"Yeah I did, I swear," the kid promises.

"Tell me the answer then."

"Ten meters a second."

You look over the crowd, they're as tense as a violin string. You give them a wink. "Correct."

A roaring cheer fills the studio.

"Thank you, caller! Look forward to a MTT plush sometime next month or so," Mettaton says before ending the call. "So, you do teach the kids. Tell me, do you teach them human magic?"

"No, human science."

"So no magic?" he asks with the same confusion as the rest.

"No, but I do know a couple of tricks."

"Show us."

You prepare the same trick that you showed at your interview with Toriel, hide one thumb and bend the other. You perform your magic and the same reaction happens but this time it is multiplied by a hundred. Like a shock wave of fear the audience falls backwards in shock. Mettaton drops his microphone and it bounces loudly on the floor. You pretend to screw your thumb back in place and then you show it up triumphantly.

"And on that note, let's go to commercial," Mettaton informs with a shaky voice. The studio light is dimmed and Mettaton walks over to you. "You told Radentim you couldn't regrow your limbs."

"I can't. It was just a trick, not real magic."

He narrows his eyes for a second before returning to his desk. A monster brings you some water and you thank them.

Ten minutes later the music starts again. Mettaton poses majestically on his desk as the audience cheers yet again. "Welcome back to our second part of what I foresee to be a long running series of human guests," he says before throwing his legs around so that he faces you. "Now, human, about the children that fell, you have any thoughts about that?"

The room goes quiet as the microphone travels to you. It finally stops where it should be.

"Children, what children? Frisk?"

"Frisk is one of them, yes."

"One of them? There's more? Where are they?" you say with lowered eyebrows.

"Dead," Mettaton says without changing his face.

Your eyes shoot wide open. "Here, in the Underground?"

"Where else could a child fall down?"

"Why haven't Asgore said anything? He's your king right?"

"Maybe because he-"

Mettaton is interrupted by a red car crashing through the backdrop. You can see a blue line glowing through the smoke. It closes in on you, and lifts you out of the chair. You're thrown in the backseat of the car.

"Drive this worthless piece of junk out of here Papyrus!" Undyne yells.

"I WILL UNDYNE, FOR YOU SEE, AS A ROYAL GUARD I MUST DO AS THE LEADER OF THE ROYAL GUARD SAY AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL ALWAYS OBEY MY CHAIN OF COMMAND!"

"I'll hang you from the chain of command if you don't slam the pedal right now!" she commands loudly.

You manage to seat yourself up before you're thrust down in the seat again as Papyrus reverses out of the stage. An expertly made handbrake turn causes you to slam into the door and your shoulder pads activate. Stage light shines through the holes and you manage to spot Mettaton giving chase.

"Undyne, I'll put you on cleaning duty for this!"

Undyne throws a spear over your head as she gets up on the seat. It crashes next to Mettaton, but he still manages to close in on you. Undyne forms a bigger and more unstable spear in her hand. Her white smile contrasts with her red hair blowing over it. "You had your chance you misprogrammed toaster, the next one will hit you."

She winds up the throw but is hit in the back the head by a low hanging lamp. She falls out of the car and tumbles as she lands.

"Papyrus stop, Undyne fell off!" you yell.

"ASGORE SAID THAT YOU WERE A PRIORITY, AND ORDERED US TO GET YOU TO HOTLAND BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY! UNDYNE KNEW THE RISKS, AND SO DO I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"Still we have to get back to her!"

Laughs and taunts echo from behind you.

"Okay, maybe not."

"DON'T WORRY, HUMAN, UNDYNE WILL SURVIVE! METTATON WOULDN'T DARE KILL HER, SHE HAS TO FILL IN FOR BURGERPANTS TOMORROW!"

"Fill his what?"

Your question is drowned out by the screeching of tires as Papyrus slides into the lobby. You spot an identical pair of tracks and a line of torn up floor. It has a weak blue glow to it. The monster at the door welcomes you back anytime as it holds up the door as Papyrus speeds down the street.

"HERE WE ARE, HUMAN! HOTLAND, THE FIRST TIME IS ALWAYS MAGICAL!"

"I was here like an hour ago."

"HERE WE ARE HUIMAN, HOTLAND! THE SECOND TIME IS ALWAYS AS MAGICAL AS THE FIRST TIME! TAKE THAT FROM ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!"

"Asgore said anything about what we should do when we got here?" you ask as you leave the bent up vehicle.

"YES, HE TOLD UNDYNE EVERYTHING!"

"That might be a problem."

"NO, UNDYNE'S MEMORY IS AS SHARP AS HER SPEARS! WELL, GOTTA GO NOW, METTATON'S SHOW STARTED A WHILE AGO AND I DON'T WANT TO MISS HIS GUEST!"

He drives off leaving you confused and alone in your costume, in Hotland.

"You seem confused, friend, why not cool your head with a Nice Cream?" Nice Cream Guy proposes from a ways behind you.

You decide it is a good idea.


	20. Hoi, be our guest

There's some coin in a pouch sewed in the lining of your cape, "Thank you, Alphys," and you use some to buy some Nice Cream. You make sure to eat it slower this time so you don't get a brain freeze. With the Nice Cream in your mouth you thank Nice Cream Guy, and head for the Lab. As you approach the elevator you spot a sign hanging on it.

"Closed for human tour," you read out loud.

The button beeps angrily when you push it and a robotic voice speaks. "Magic identification required. Please, disclose your magic, Undyne."

You sigh and turn around causing your cape to wrap around your leg. One untangling and some quiet swearing later you wonder out loud how anyone can use something like this seriously.

"The elevator is closed, friend. Something about a human delegation," Nice Cream Guy informs.

"I know, I was here an hour or so ago."

"Didn't notice you, and trust me, you're not someone you forget easily."

"I was with Alphys," you remind him before you remember. "Oh, wait, one second."

You turn around and tear off the make up on your face. The sweat you've build up despite the Nice Cream helps as you rip it off, leaving your skin red and hot from irritation. You toss your face into the lava and turn around to face Nice Cream Guy again, but you can't find him. You do see a shaking Nice Cream stand though.

"Did I scare you? I didn't mean it, I just wanted to get that make up off," you apologize.

"Y-you took your face off," he responds from behind his stand.

"It was a prosthetic, a fake. Radentim applied it."

You don't get an answer, and decide to leave some coin as an apology.

"B-be sure, to tell all your friends," you hear him whimper out as you leave.

There's two paths you've yet to travel on. You pick one at random, and soon you come upon a gloomy looking area. You see a spider scuttle past you on the floor. It doesn't seem to be interested in you as it scurries along with a coin. A table is set up with a blanket over it. A sign with a number of items and prices is present on it along with a couple of plates with said items. Doughnuts, muffins, and slices of cake. Tempting, but the prices for them are outrageous. You leave them be.

More and more spider webs clog the area the further you go. Judging by them, this must be an old and abandoned place. Why does it smell like a bakery though? You have no time to answer your own question as you're jerked up by your feet and left hanging like a fish on a hook. You change your metaphor as you see what caught you, you're a fly in a spider's web.

"Oh, look here, another visitor," a voice cheers from the dark. A loud sound, like an aspen in the wind, respond to the question, and the answer echoes through the hollow cave. "How nice to have a visitor. We were just baking, and today we're trying one of Mettaton's recipes."

You're spun around and faced with a large spider wearing a red dress and bows in its hair. It gives you a small smile, exposing two fangs in the process, as it pours you a cup. You thank it nervously as it hands it to you. Because of your shaky hand you spill some on it, and the spiders you spilled crawl up your arm and jump onto nearby webs, disappearing in a heartbeat. Quicker than a normal heartbeat, yours is quite off the charts at the moment. The spiders left in the cup seem content with being there oddly enough.

"Problem is, we don't have a human soul to add that extra flavor, we would sell so much more if we had some," the large spider explains as it pours a cup for itself. "You don't happen to have a spare cup of souls?"

You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that, let me move you into the light."

You gulp as five eyes pop wide open when you reach the less dark area.

"A human, oh my. This might be a sensitive question, but could I use your soul for my baking?"

Once again you shake your head. It pains you greatly as you feel all the blood that's been collected since you were turned upside down slosh around in your skull.

The spider clamps its limbs together like a child and looks at you with watery eyes. "No? Why not, pretty please?"

"We can discuss it if you put me down," you suggest.

"We can? Wonderful. Muffin, down!"

You're dropped onto a spider web and bounce awkwardly before you finally get your head upright. Your vision darkens a bit as the blood rushes back down your body.

"Good Muffin, I'll let you play with the human later. Ahuhuhu~"

You're lifted up by a small army of spiders and carried to Muffet, you guess, judging by the letters hanging over her made out of spider string. She's applying the finishing touches on a dining set made out of web and you're placed down in a chair. A chill goes up your spine as you feel that the chair is still wet.

"So, how can I get your soul?" she says, leaning on one of her pair of spider hands.

Another hand is asking you if you want a refill of spiders, and you look down to see that you're still clenching the cup. You nod even though you don't want more. As one hand pours another is serving you some doughnuts. They look freshly made, and you feel yourself being a bit peckish all of a sudden.

"Taste good?" she asks as you take a greedy bite.

You nod with a big smile.

"Then that will be 5000 G."

You cough as the price knocks the air out of you. "I don't have that much money on me!" Pieces of doughnut flies out of your mouth, but they're intercepted in the air by a team of spiders in small tuxedos.

"Oh well, I can take your soul in payment. Muffin, play time!"

You feel drops of drool of your head. "How about we trade instead?" you offer.

"We're already trading your soul for the doughnut."

"No, I mean, trade something else," you clarify with a nervous laugh.

"And what would that be?"

The sharply dressed spiders turn themselves to you.

"Recipes?"

They start applauding, it sounds very uncomfortable.

"What kind of recipes? Ones with human souls?"

More drool lands on your head. You grab the seat of your chair and jump a bit to the side. "Hehe, you see, they don't contain souls. We humans don't use souls in our cuisine," you explain as you clean the saliva out of your hair.

"But, Mettaton said that human souls increase the flavor, and that free range souls taste even better. Your food must taste awful." You hear a rattling above you disagreeing to the notion. "Their food, Muffin, not the humans themselves."

"Cute pet you got," you say in an attempt to change the subject.

"Muffin? Yes, the cutest, the best."

You shoot her a wink. "Not as cute as you though."

She straightens her dress with one pair of hands, fixes her bows with another pair and hides her face with the third. "Oh, human. No one's ever said that to me. You're cute as well."

A spider lights a candle on the table.

"And your bakery is out of this world, magical," you continue. "That is not something we say often, we humans."

Despite using six hands she can't hide her giggle, and you can see that her cheeks are turning red just like her dress.

"Your Muffin, can I pet it?" you ask her.

"Ahuhuhu, of course. Muffin, come down here."

A huge spider almost as big as you descends and lands next to you. It stares at you for a while before scuttling over to Muffet.

"The human wants to pet you. No biting."

Muffin sulks loudly.

"No, Muffin, just pet. No eating, I'll feed you later, wrap them up nice for you," she promises with voice a like how you would talk to a dog.

The spider pet makes it way to you with an uncomfortably slow pace. It stops next to you with a hungry look on its face. You raise a hand and put it gently on its head. It's hairy, like a dog, but the hair is stiff, and it scratches your hand as you rub it.

"Aren't they the bestest and cutest?" Muffet asks with a smile.

You glance down and see a mouth watering so much you're afraid that it might drown.

"Sure is," you agree. You're unsure about your sincerity. You can also hear your own insecurity in your voice, but Muffet doesn't seem to pick it up. She calls her pet back and whispers something into its ear. It nods its head and jumps up into the dark ceiling.

"You live here alone?" you ask as you try to spot her pet in the dark.

"No, I have my spiders."

"I mean, no other monsters?"

"I have Muffin!" You feel a drop of saliva hit your neck. "And I get plenty of money from my bake sale," she continues.

"I'd be shocked if you didn't! With that face and with these doughnuts one would be crazy not to."

You think you hear faint music, and look down to see that the spiders have brought forth instruments. They're playing a tune you've not heard before. Muffet seems to be familiar with as she's leaning on her hands with her elbows on the table. You mimic her movement. "Seems that you still enjoy the company of others despite being surrounded by your spider friends."

She looks down with a frown. "People don't want to talk to me, they think I'm scary," she laments with a quivering lip.

"What about Frisk? Did you meet them?"

She nods before shaking her head. "They didn't want to play."

"I see."

A song passes before Muffet looks up again. "Human, can you stay, with me? We can bake together."

You put a reluctant hand on one of Muffet's. "I'm so sorry, Muffet, but I need to leave."

You can see a tear forming in one of her eyes.

"But when things get better, why don't you open a bakery on the Surface?"

She blinks a couple of times, still with a quivering lip. "W-would you come visit?"

You give her a reassuring smile and a nod. "Every day."

Her smile returns.

"But for now I need to get going. Thank you, Muffet. It's been...nice."

She stops you as you lift yourself up, "Before you go."

She leans in with her cheek and you give it a peck. You can't tell where her dress starts and her blushing cheeks end when you finally wave goodbye to her.

After you're sure she's out of hearing distance you curl your cape up and stuff your mouth with it.

You then scream.

You return to the crossroad with your fear out of your head and lungs. You wave to Nice Cream Guy, he's busy serving a couple of monsters, but he waves back.

"Don't forget to tell your friends," he reminds you.

"If you don't mind me asking, you wouldn't happen to know where the humans went?"

He shakes his head. "No. Sorry, friend."

"You're looking for the humans?" a large monster asks with an ice lolly in its hand. It has no shirt on and you admire how much his muscles reminds you of human anatomy.

"Y-yeah," you say after a long second.

"We know, they were heading for the Waterfall. You're a human right? Why aren't you with them?" another similar looking monster asks.

"Long story. Where to the Waterfall?"

You get some directions from the two Nice Cream wielding monsters, and thank them.

The directions lead you closer and closer to the lava, and you need to dry your face of sweat with your cape in quick intervals. Thirst haunts your throat as the saliva you swallow becomes less and less. You berate yourself for not getting a Nice Cream for the road.

The lava is now but a couple of meters below you, and you need to stop to catch your breath. Sweat is dropping and your eyes sting because of it. Through watery eyes you see something weird, a water cooler. You conclude that it must be a hallucination, but as you near it doesn't disappear, it becomes clearer.

You lay a hand on it and feel that it is cool. You embrace it and let its cold take hold of you. You rip out a cup from the holder with great force and pour. After a couple of cups you decide to just put your head under the faucet. You drink until you need to catch your breath. You catch it, and then drink even more. The container seems not to empty and you also wash the salt from your face and hair. You stand up and run a hand through your hair as you let out a pleased sigh.

With your head cleared and your thirst quenched you spot a bridge leading to a place that's as blue as Hotland is red. It looks welcoming with its cold droplets hitting the floor. One problem though, the unstable bridge leading to the blue area is swinging over molten stone. Maybe you should just turn back? Yes, better not risk it.

You turn yourself only to see a monster pass you. It greets you as it passes and walks easily over the bridge not giving any thought to the red and boiling liquid of death below it. You think about your situation and conclude that if Frisk could do it, so could you.

Probably.

You place a nervous foot on the edge of the bridge. It seems to hold your weight. You slowly shift more weight onto it. The bridge swings a bit, but you can't feel the movement. After a while you've managed to get every part of you on the bridge. You lean to the side to see if the bridge responses, it doesn't. You shrug your shoulders and walk over it easily.

Alrighty then.

The air on the other side of the bridge is filled with moisture and cold. You welcome it with open arms and mouth. Droplets hit your head rhythmically, but you let them. You take a deep breath to clear your lungs of the heat from Hotland and fill them with the cool air of the Waterfall. No signs of Asgore, Alphys, or the humans though. You keep on walking. The sound of rushing water makes a nice shift of tone for your ears and you delight in it. A small river runs under you with large ice blocks floating towards Hotland. Curious.

A little while later you exit an ominous opening in the cave. It looks like the entrance on the Surface but more, spiky. As you back up to inspect it further you hear people speaking, but you can't find where from. You cross two more bridges as the voices get stronger and stronger. They seem to come from around the corner ahead of you.

You round it but you can't see anyone, just flowers. Blue flowers, glowing in a similar color to Undyne's spears. Maybe she has a softer side? You bend over to pick some.

"You heard?" it says as you grab its stem. You retract your hand and the voice fades away. You give it another poke. "A human destroyed the barrier," the flower continues.

"Huh," you say.

"Huh," another flower repeats.

You produce a big smile on your face and give the flower patch a tap with your foot before you sweep it with your leg. Like a heated argument with participants that are having different conversations the cave is filled with voices. They fade away after a while leaving the cave quieter than before. You find one flower that says that Undyne is really cool and pick it. It goes on your ornamented belt for now.

A couple of minutes later you come across a pitch black room. You enter it carefully. As you set down your foot a path lights up. You whistle in awe and follow it. It leads to an entrance with a sign on it.

"'Temmie Village', all are welcome! Hoi!" you read for yourself.

The letters are randomly capitalized. As you enter you're jumped by a small monster and it lands in your arms.

"OMG, biggest human ever. Don't worry, human! I've buyed pills from Tem Shop, no more allergic reaction," it says. Its face swells up and hives form alarmingly quickly. You drop the monster instinctively and it vibrates in the air for a while before landing softly. "Oh no, out of date, no good."

"You alright?" you ask worryingly.

"Hooman nice, care for Temmies, but not me please. I don't wanna more allergic," it explains.

"So, you need a doctor or anything, some healing magic?"

"No, Temmie fine, just big face for a while. Don't worry, hooman."

You step over the vibrating monster, "Well if you say so..." and you're immediately jumped by another one.

"Hooman cool leg, how much?" the identical monster asks you.

You move it away from your face and it laughs in glee as its face spins. You twist your face in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Cool leg, you know?"

You shrug your shoulders. "I mean, I can't think of a pair that comes close to Mettaton's."

"No, not cool leg, cool leg. Where you get smarts and stuff!"

You think for a while, "Ah, college."

"Yes, cool leg."

You shrug again. "Well yeah, we have them."

"How much?" it asks with an annoyed and annoying voice.

"To get in? I don't know, depends on the university," you explain.

"Help Temmie go to cool leg?"

You look down on the monster at your feet. "Help Temmie, the one allergic to humans to go to college? A human college? I don't think that's a good idea even with medicine."

"No, not Temmie! Temmie! Me Temmie," the monster in your hand angrily clarifies except that it doesn't.

"And who is that convulsing on the floor?" you ask with your chin down.

The allergic one is spinning and laughing at the same time.

"That's Temmie."

You raise an eyebrow. "You have the same name?"

"Yes, we all Temmie."

"But if I want to talk to you," you ask with a finger on their stomach, "what do I call you?"

"Temmie."

You roll your eyes and set Temmie down. Another Temmie goes for a jump but you dodge them.

"Hooman, come, buy Tem Shop," waves another Temmie.

You approached with curious intent.

"Hoi!" it welcomes.

"Hoi," you respond.

"Hooman can hoi! What you want?"

You squat down to see what is in the store.

"No, hooman stand! Not serious if hooman go small. Hooman big, hooman serious. Tem need broaden customer reach."

You stand up againm "Better?"

"Yes, serious now, We can business."

You browse the storefront. "So, do you have something interesting for a human?"

"Yes, but we don't have."

"Aha," you nod.

"But, Tem has two," they proudly announce.

"I understand." You don't understand. "Listen, I have like 10 G left, surprise me."

Temmie's face starts vibrating, you don't think you can get used to it. "Hoi, customer is cool."

"Cool leg?"

"Already been cool leg." The dog like monster hands you a small packet of Temmie Flakes. "Temmie Flakes best, it has toy."

You open the packet only to find a toy and no flakes.

"Oh no, Tem forgot flakes again," Tem sulks.

"You know what? Here, take the toy," you sigh and hand it back.

"Hoi, Tem buy, yes."

You're given back your money.

"Hooman must move, other customers want buy from Tem Shop."

You turn around to see a queue filled with air stacked behind you.

You shake your head as you walk towards the exit sign. It says 'Temxit' and has a picture of a Temmie .

The sign leads to another dark room with luminescent floor and you follow the path that lights up. The sound of rushing water grows in strength the further you walk on the path. It ends at a corner and you round it. Large waterfalls roar next to you, but you don't mind the sound. It's quite relaxing, despite the violent rushing. What you do take an interest in is a couple of plaques hanging on the wall. Your feel your eyebrows lower with each sentence you read closely until you almost touch the tip of your nose with them.

"What in the world?" you ask out loud.

"Wa ha ha! Oh, Fluffybuns, you clumsy goat. You let one get away," you hear a voice laugh.

"Hello?" you ask the voice.

"Yes, hello indeed! Seems like you're lost, human. Aren't you supposed to be with your group?"

"Uh, we got separated," you lie.

"Very! They left with River Person an hour ago," the old monster explains.

"I guess that's a good thing?"

An old raspy laugh comes from the monster. "You seem to be interested in our shared history," he says and nod towards the plaques. "Why don't I put on some tea and we could share our findings?"

"That sounds lovely, uh."

"Gerson, my name is Gerson."


	21. A trip back in time

"And the royal wedding, oh, it brings a tear to my old eyes. So majestic."

"How so? Describe it, please."

"Wa ha ha! It was like nothing you'd ever seen. Dance, food, music. A whole civilization stops to join the festivities, to celebrate our newly wed royals. Hold on, I think I have something from the party," Gerson reminisces. He struggles to get up and you offer your help. "Wa ha ha, this old hammer still has some justice in it! Sit down you, you must be tired from your journey."

He motions for you with his magnifying glass and you throw up your hands. His grip is that of a veteran and you don't want that thing clocking you on the head. After a couple minutes of rummaging and loud thinking Gerson comes back with an ornate box. You recognize the insignia, the Dreemurr crest.

"This was given out to the guests of honor," Gerson explains as he dusts the box off.

"Then I've met with an important monster I reckon."

"The hammer of justice, that was me, ex Leader of the Royal Guard."

"The hammer, ey?" you say with a snicker.

"Watch out so I don't bring it down on you," he threatens.

You put a hand up. "Sorry, it caught me off guard."

"Mhm? Anyway, inside this box is a memory."

"Memory? A piece of a brain?"

The magnifying glass of justice is brought down on your head and it hurts just as much as you thought. "Don't be silly, human. It's magical, of course."

"Still not used to magic being the norm," you explain as you rub your head. "What does it do?"

"It shows the moment most precious of the event."

"Precious for who?"

You cower a bit as Gerson raises his magnifying glass again. "If you would let me finish." He regains his composure by rolling back his shoulders."The moment most precious for the recipient of the box."

You nod. "Cool beans, how does it work?"

"It binds with the soul and connects with the magic running through the monster, becomes a part of the monster. The magic is dangerous, hence why only a selected few were granted it, as the monster can become stuck in the memory, doomed to repeat it forever yet not realizing it." Gerson looks at you with serious eyes. "Human, would you give up your life to relive a moment in your life forever yet every time feel like it was the first time?" He shakes his head. "Many a monsters have been lost in thought, literally, because of memories like this."

You gulp and look him dead in the eyes.

"Wa ha ha, no I'm just having some fun at your expense, human. You just open it, like this."

A bright light fills the room and as you remove your arm from covering your eyes you look up to the newly wed royal pair. King Asgore gives you a thankful nod, and you bow down deep to show your respect and equal thanks. The Leader of the Royal Guard, the hammer of justice, you can't help but to feel proud over the position. Toriel steps up first and makes a speech about how her newly granted title would help her change the Underground for the better. She receives a standing ovation and steps down from the podium with the microphone still in her hand. You step in to warn her, but hear her voice through the speakers as she nears Asgore.

"Your turn, Fluffybuns," she teases.

A couple of long seconds passes as the crowd processes what she said. It then bursts into roaring laughter. As she realizes what she said Toriel starts laughing to. You struggle to contain your own. Asgore lets the laughter go on for a while before he lifts his hands up, gently silencing the crowd and his new queen. He carefully takes the microphone out of Toriel's hand, and steps up on the podium. He refastens it on the stand, and leans in with the most stern expression you've ever seen. Even more than dad's.

"Dear citizens," he starts, "thank you all for coming here!" He pauses for a second as the crowd holds its breath."I, King Fluffybuns."

You hear another laughter, it reminds you of your own yet it is, old. Another white flash rips you from the moment.

"What was it you said, cool beans, right?" an older version of you asks you.

You take a moment to remember which memories that belong to you. "I'm, human?" you say as you inspect your hand. It has five fingers, one too many.

"Yes, you are, just give it a minute, drink some tea. The magic is temporary, it'll fade away soon," Gerson assures.

You do as the old you say and take a sip. After a while you can feel your head getting clearer and memories of growing into your shell fade away. "Gerson, is there more of this magic out there?" you ask as you inspect your hand. It has five fingers, just enough.

"Of course! I wasn't the only guest to be granted one."

"You said that the magic was temporary, so how come I can still remember Fluffybuns." You laugh as you utter the word 'Fluffybuns'. "See? Why am I laughing so hard at it?"

"Without context the moment would've been lost. I add the characters, and the magic fills in the background."

You nod as your laughter fades.

"Wa ha ha, I've kept you for far too long. Why don't you hurry along and catch up with your human friends?"

You stand up. "They're not my...never mind."

"Oh, before you go," Gerson halts you and hands you a pin shaped like the Delta Rune. "There was boxes full of these at the wedding. Give one to Frisk as well as my thanks, for bringing hope back to the Underground. Also, when you exit my shop, take a right and follow it past a couple of houses, there should be a small gap and a bird. The bird will help you cross the gap, don't worry."

You give the old monster a thumbs up before you leave.

A house is playing some loud music, it sounds good though and you bob your head to the rhythm. A short while later you come to the small gap Gerson mentioned. Tiny in fact, you can jump over it no problem.

You take a running start, but a bird flies up in your face and stops you in your track. It flies over your head and lifts you up. You wonder how such a little bird can carry such a heavy object. Magic, you conclude. The fact that it isn't the strangest thing to have happened to you today is not sitting the best with you though.

The journey takes a while despite the small gap, and you twiddle your thumbs as you hang suspended in the air by two small feet. You thank the bird for the ride as it places you down on the other side of the gap, and it gives a whistle in thanks.

A telescope stands alone around a couple of corners. You take a peek and it shows you some pretty crystals in the cave roof. You nod in satisfaction and carry on. You whistle a tune for yourself as you keep on walking, and it attracts the attention of some monsters. You hear one sing out of tune to your whistling. Out of pity you try to match your whistle to the tune of the monster, but it keeps changing so much that the effort start to hurt your lips. It has its back to you, and you take the moment to hurry along out of its hearing distance.

Another monster beckons you to flex with him, but you kindly, yet firmly, deny. He flexes in response and you dodge him in some tall grass. A bridge made out of what looks like flowers helps you cross another waterfall. You wonder why the name of the place isn't in plural. A stall stands on your right with a sign. You laugh at it.

"Guard stationed on duty, Sans. Report any and all human activities you see to him,", it reads.

"Bang up job, Sans," you congratulate and give the stand an OK sign with your hand.

As you laugh you notice that your breath is condensing in the air, forming clouds. You narrow your eyes to see what might have caused it.

"Snow?" you ask out loud.

Not only that but there's a town as well. Snowdin perhaps?

You pass a house with two mailboxes, one is spilling with letters and the other is empty.

"Excuse me, who lives here?" you ask a passing monster.

"Sans and Papyrus of course! Haven't seen them lately, I'm afraid."

"The overstuffed mailbox is Sans'?"

The monster shakes their head. "Yes."

"I see, thank you," you answer with a puzzled look.

The monster nods and somersaults away.

The next building is called 'Librarby'. You lower your eyebrows in thought, but you can't understand why they would call it such. You decide to enter and ask the owner.

The smell of books and paper mixing with quiet chatter feels comforting, and you feel yourself warming up quicker than usual. Your cape does a good job protecting you from the cold.

You hear a familiar voice in all the chatter. "got the books you asked for from the surface."

"You did? Thank you, Sans! I might even set up a shelf with human books if you keep these coming," a spectacle wearing monster thanks with all of his heart as he welcomes the books into his hands.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," you greet as you walk up to Sans.

You're hushed with a harsh finger by the monster and you mouth out a sorry.

"Could you perhaps get me some history books next time? Maybe something before the Barrier?" the monster asks Sans after he lowers his finger from his lips.

Sans gives you a look and you shake your head as you shrug your shoulders.

"my friend here isn't aware of any so that might be difficult. i'll see what i can do though."

"Anything is appreciated. Perhaps your human friend has any suggestions?"

"Nothing on the top of my head for the moment, but I'll also keep an eye out. Maybe we can swap? I'd love to read some monster books," you suggest with a smile.

"Oh, then you must try this," the librabrian says and makes his way towards a shelf. He hands you a book.

"I woke up human?" you read out loud.

"A classic, one of the best. It tells the tale of a prince that's turned into a human and is cast out of his castle for being ugly," the librabrian explains.

You skim the back. "Mhm."

"He's forced to go into hiding, since he's so ugly," the librabrian continues.

You nod. "OK."

"But, another human falls down."

"Another ugly human?" you guess.

"yes," Sans nods.

"Well you've sold me," you smile. How sincere it is is up to the librabrian to decide for himself. "I think I'll plow through it in one go. I'll leave it with you for the moment, if that's OK. I can't carry it now, no bag."

The librabrian takes the book back. "Glad to hear it. You humans have something similar?"

"Oh yeah, plenty, don't you worry," you reassure with a series of nods.

The librabrian's smile grows. "Then consider this a gift. Take care you two, I need to categorize these." The monster enters a side room.

Sans nods for the door. "you hungry?"

You feel your stomach suddenly rumble. "Oh boy, now that you've said it." You put a hand to contain it. "I had a doughnut before, but nothing else after it."

"hopefully you donut die from starvation."

You hold the door for him, reluctantly.

"We're cool about Toriel?" you ask after a couple of steps.

He snickers.

"Cool as in OK, not the weather, jeez."

"nah, we're not ok. see, i'm giving you the cold shoulder."

"Your jacket is in the way," you comment.

The snow crumbles with a satisfying sound as you walk to the building titled Grillby's. Must be a place to eat.

Sans holds the door and invites you to a warmly lit and delicious smelling tavern. A bar with a sharply dressed fire monster behind it waves to you. A monsters puts on a catchy tune on the jukebox, and you follow Sans to a booth.

The fire monster walks up to you and hands you two menus. He readjusts his glasses and produces a pen along with a notebook from his tuxedo. You order a soda and the monster nods. He leaves you to get your drink.

You breathe in through your teeth. "Sans, this might be racist but," you tap your fingers, "it's just that I like my soda cold. Wouldn't he boil it?"

Sans gives you a vicious look and you apologize. The soda is served ice cold and you sink down in shame. Sans orders a plate of fries and ketchup, you take a burger meal.

"Does he cook the food himself?" you ask again.

"yes, it is homemade."

"No, you know, by himself, with himself?"

Another look.

"Sorry..." You return to your soda with a lowered head and keep it lowered until you smell something delicious coming your way. A plate of fries is placed before you and Sans.

"Thank you, Grillby."

He nods and snaps his fingers above your fries leaving a golden crust for you to enjoy. Your burger comes soon after and you thank him again. He makes a couple of sparkles as a response.

"anyway, mettaton's show," Sans starts, causing you to almost choke on a fry. "yeah, it was pretty entertaining, really broke the fourth wall. i should have recorded it."

"If I get my hands on one of those memory boxes I'll gladly share it," you promise as you wipe your mouth.

He lifts the ketchup bottle from his mouth. "memory boxes?"

"Oh, they must be rare then." You swallow. "Gerson has one, lets you see another person's memory."

You look up from your burger to see Sans staring at you with two dark and deep eyes.

"Grillby spit in your fries?" you try to joke. "Wouldn't that just make them hotter? Am I being racist again?"

Sans jumps out of the booth. "i have to make a phone call, excuse me for a moment."

You nod with a stuffed mouth and some salad escapes your bite. It falls gently down on the floor and as you pick it up you feel a cold breeze. "If you're not back in five minutes I'm eating your fries as well," you say out loud to nothing causing some heads to turn your way.

Five minutes pass and your threat becomes empty. After fifteen you decide that it would be a shame to let them go to waste and you save a couple of Sans' fries from drowning in ketchup. Another quarter of an hour passes and you ask the monsters if they could switch the song that they're playing, it's been on repeat ever since you arrived. Ten minutes later you finally decide that you should investigate what Sans is doing.

You lift yourself up only to bump into something metallic. You sit back down and rub your forehead. The sofa creaks as it is quickly filled with armored dogs. They push you into a corner and turn their heads against you.

"Can I help you?" you ask with a shaky voice.

Looks peer at you from narrowed eyes, and two hooded dogs whisper to each other. They then nod to a dog with a fish bone in its mouth and laugh, including a huge dog next to you. Its plate armor bounces heavily as it laughs. You feel yourself getting smaller and smaller. The laughter recedes after a short while and the dog removes its fish bones from its mouth.

"Human," it says.

"Yes," you whimper out.

"You're alone here, right?"

"No, I'm waiting for a friend."

"Sans? Oh human, he won't return, he has bills to pay," the dog snickers, pleased with itself. He reaches down, but what is drawn is not a sword, it's a twig. He tosses it on the table.

"Throw it."

"W-what?" you reply.

He puts his fish bone back in his mouth. "Let's take this outside. Greater Dog?"

You're lifted by the largest dog and carried outside. You can hear Grillby sigh from behind his counter. It sounds like a thick fire blossoming. The dogs take you a bit into the nearby forest, across a long bridge, and set you down on a snowy field. They toss you the stick again and you catch it clumsily.

"Throw it," the dogs demand again.

"L-like this?" you ask as you give the twig some speed.

The dogs take off leaving a huge cloud of powdered snow behind them. You can hear growls and barks through it, and soon the big one returns with the stick in its mouth. A small gust of air hits you in the face as it squats down and gives you the stick. You pet it on the head and throw it again, this time to the other side.

Your cape flaps violently in the turbulence as the dogs run past you in hot pursuit. Another dog, smaller than Greater Dog, comes back with the stick this time. You pet it and its neck extends. You force out a smile and pet it again. The neck grows longer. You decide that you probably know what would happen if you pet it again. The neck flops down on the snowy ground and when you throw the stick a third time the head is dragged along, leaving a deep rift in the snow.

You play for a while longer before one dog remembers that its guard shift starts soon. The other dogs remember as well, and bids you goodbye. They leave you breathing thick clouds in the disturbed snowy landscape, and you decide to head back to Grillby's to see if Sans is there now. As you turn you hear a laughter behind you.

"Sans, there you are, I was beginning to worry. Well, not really, annoyed to be honest. I'm sorry to say this, but I think your fries have drowned in the sea of ketchup you poured over them."

You can see his silhouette through some mist created by a rushing river. It turns around and walks away from the town.

"Sans, where are you going? I was just kidding."

You take after him. Despite you running he seems to always be faster, laughing as you enter hearing distance.

"Sans, please? What are you planning?" you yell at him.

He stops and shrugs his shoulders before moving again.

"Look, I'm sorry about Toriel, OK?"

He stops again for a moment before continuing.

"Do you want me to beg? Come on, you made the choice to lift it, you could have just refused."

More laughter. You feel your face twist with annoyance. A nearby monster is struggling to get some decorations out of its antlers, but you're too bitter to help.

After some close calls where you almost slipped on some ice you enter a long hallway of trees. At the end of the hallway stands a tall door. It is opened slightly, just enough for Sans to get through. You enter it, and proceed down the purple colored corridor. You go up a flight of stairs and find yourself in a very cozy home, it reminds you of somewhere, but you can't really put your finger on it.

"Sans, you in here? I just want to talk, settle things between us. I thought we were cool. Why are you running?"

You hear some laughter coming from outside and you exit the house. The front door leads to a garden that is as dead as Asgore's is alive. Withered plants and dried up leaves litter the ground and in the middle stands an old and crooked tree. You run a finger against it and the bark comes loose. The ground around is dead, drained of color, like someone vacuumed up all the life out of it. There's something covering the ground though. You swipe it with your palm. Dust?

Your thoughts are interrupted by another laughter from Sans. You run out of an opening only to find a fork in the road. You take the left part and end up on a plateau looking over huge city. The silence is deafening though. It is abandoned, no living being in sight. The view makes you feel uncomfortable and you run back to the other road.

Huge pillars stand in seemingly random locations. They're adorned with colorful buttons. You struggle to understand why. Frog like creatures jump around you, but you pay them no mind. One almost trip you, but you dodge it. In your haste you miss a crack in the floor. The ground below you gives way and you tumble down. Luckily your fall is softened by a pile of leafs. A few leafs find their way into your mouth though and you spit them out. Their taste linger on your tongue.

"What was that?" you ask as the adrenaline rush through you.

"Oh, sorry, am I in the way?" you hear a pitiful voice ask you.

You turn around but you can't find the creature the voice belongs to. "What, no I just, hello?"

"It's OK, I was just about to leave," the voice says with fading volume.

"No, I didn't mean, I tripped," you explain to the air.

You stand up to apologize, but you don't get an answer. The room is empty except the pile of leaves and a door. You take it and walk up the stairs behind it. They lead to where you fell down. A loud laughter comments on the leafs on your outfit and you brush them off before continuing.

Some rooms after you come across another cracked floor, but this one shows where the holes are, and you carefully navigate around them as to not fall down again. A couple of minutes later you find a bridge covered in spikes. You walk up to them and tap one with your foot and it sinks down into the ground. It bounces back up as you retract your foot, but its secrets are revealed to you now. You sweep your leg in front of you and follow the path that emerges. When you're on the other side you wonder out loud as to the purpose of all these traps. You shake your head.

Some rooms later you find another door with the Dreemurr insignia on it. You push the door open and see another gloomy garden, No tree though, just dead leaves. You can see a dark shoulder enter another insignia covered gate before you do you rush down a pair of stairs to catch him. A dark corridor gives way to a large hole in the cave ceiling letting moonlight down onto a patch of Golden Flowers. Sans stands in the middle, but you can't really see his face.

You walk down the flight of stairs. "Finally! What is this all about Sans? Traps, pitfalls. Spikes! Are you the prize of this gauntlet you've put me through. If so I hope you can at least accept my apology."

He just laughs.

You reach the ground. "Sans, I'm serious."

"you idiot," his voice berates.

You're ripped up by a vine and left hanging, second time today.

"The fuck are you doing, Sans?" you scream out. "Are you together with Toriel or something? Are you jealous that Gerson shared his memory with me?" You don't get an answer. "Anything! Answer me, you bonehead!"

Roaring laughter echoes through the enormous and hollow cave.

"You know what, if this is your magic, I hope this hurts you," you threaten. You bend up and grab the vine, dragging it down towards your shoulder pad. The spikes cut through the plant, and you lose your air as you land flat on your back. Pained screams replace the laughter, but they sound different.

"You idiot!"

That's not Sans' voice.


	22. Taking care of the flowers

"Alphys and her idiotic inventions," you hear the voice curse.

You catch your breath and stand up to face whomever it is that dons Sans form. The form twists and other vines appear around it. With an uncomfortable speed they're dragged underground with a disturbing sound. Left standing is a flower just barely taller than the others around it. It disappears underground as well, but resurfaces a couple of meters in front of you. "Howdy, I'm Flowey. Flowey the flower. Could you do me a favor and reset? Taking care of these flowers is so boring, but now that you're here I'd like to forget everything. So please, reset."

You flinch back. "What are you talking about?"

The flower grows in size and its smile goes from friendly to horrid in a blink of an eye. Its eyes turns dark and hollow. Vines surround you with ominous purpose, and you see thorns extending towards you.

"Reset!" Flowey screams at you.

"I, uh, I don't really feel like it.? My soul is a bit, um, tired," you guess in a panic.

"Reset or I'll rip out your soul and do it myself!" Flowey screams at you again.

"OK, just relax, I'll reset," you answer.

Just as quick as Flowey grew he now returns to his small form. "Oh, perfect."

"Just, just give me a minute. I need to prepare," you say and sit down.

"Of course, just tell me when you're done. I want you to reset to a specific time if that's all right with you."

You force out a smile. "No problem, I'll tell you when I'm ready." You sit for a while, assessing your situation, looking for a way to escape. You need to get in contact with Sans or Asgore, anyone.

Flowey is also sitting down, rolling his vines while whistling. After a couple of minutes his whistling deteriorates to rasps and finally he sighs. He throws his vines up in the air. "Frisk didn't need this long to reset, are you stupid or what?"

"Frisk had more control over their soul," you guess again, "and now that you've interrupted me I have to restart. Go take care of the flowers or something. Let me focus," you lie.

The flower extends his tongue at you and burrows. You can hear him resurface, but the sound is faint, he must be far away. This is your chance! You spring up on your legs and rush the door. A vine emerges from behind it and closes it. You tackle the door full sprint, but you're thrown back by the recoil.

"I guess being nice only works with monsters. Looks like we have to go with pain instead," Flowey laments unsincerily while bending over your face.

"If I were to say that I only did that because it would help me focus?"

"I would call you an idiot. First thing first, we need to get rid of these." Flowey slashes your shoulder pads off and lifts you up by your armpits. "You really look like an idiot in these clothes."

"If they're not to your liking why don't you just burrow," you suggest with a smug smile. "Better yet, put me down and I'll leave to fetch a different outfit. Who are you, really?"

"You're deaf as well! I'm Flowey, friend of Frisk."

You nod. "Ah, you must be the old acquaintance Sans told me about. Well, I'm Frisk's teacher, and I'm prepared to give you a lesson in discipline if you don't put me down."

"That Smiley Trashbag has rubbed off on you I see." Flowey gives you a wink. "Maybe a little bit too much?"

"Must be lonely here," you retort with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, you have no idea."

You only catch a glimpse of the green razor that is whipped towards you and Flowey laughs as you grunt in pain.

"Oh boy, you really are dumber than Frisk, they dodged my friendliness. You took it like a dunce."

Your breathing becomes heavy as you cope with the pain.

"Are we crying, already? Ha, at least you'll have something in common with Asriel when you meet him."

You spit out the pain. "Eat shit! You're a plant, you will enjoy it!"

Flowey puts a vine on his stem and gasps. "Hey, no harsh language around kids. You're a teacher, you should know." Leafs form over your mouth and you struggle for air. "We calm now? No more swears?"

You nod.

"Well, I want to be on the safe side, so I'll keep you like this for a while."

The leafs keep your voice quiet despite your best attempt.

Flowey shakes a vine in front of your face. "Ah ah, no cursing, remember?" He brings the vine down to your chest. "Now, why don't we try to bring out your soul? It must be so boring being stuck in someone who doesn't know how to use it. Let's give it some fresh air, convince it that it's better off with me."

A white petal is shot out from Flowey and it travels straight for your heart. You manage to throw your body to the side, but the petal still graces you, leaving a pulsating wound. You can feel your blood going down your side, and you scream again.

"Interesting." Flowey shrugs his vines. "Guess I have to dig deeper."

You're brought down and stretched out on the ground on your back. Like a snake, Flowey moves up to you, and positions himself over your chest. You bend your neck down to look at him, and notice that your leg is in reach of his stem. You wrap it around your foot. Flowey doesn't notice.

"Say hi to Asriel for me," he threatens as his face changes form.

You kick your leg up with all your might and uproot him. The vines holding you retract into him, and the leaf around your mouth follows. He hangs a bit in the air before crashing down next to you. You grab him as he tries to awkwardly shuffle away.

"No, wait! I'm Asriel. Please, don't kill me again! I want to see mom and dad," Flowey pleads with another voice. It is desperate and childlike. His face shifts to a young child's that matches his new voice. A pair of watery eyes beg you to release him and a small snout whispers out for help.

You loosen your grip in shock, and the face contorts into a sinister grin. Small roots grip your neck and you feel your wind pipe contract. "Let's see who dies first, shall we? I don't care, I got nothing left. Frisk took it all away from me!"

Your vision turns darker and darker, and you're forced to toss Flowey away from you. His roots free your throat, and you cough violently. Close to you lies a stick that you pick up. You feel like you might need it. Flowey is nowhere to be seen so again you rush the door, but it is still closed shut. You bang your fist on the door. "Just let me out, nothing good can come of this!" You clutch your wound.

"No, I'm tired off not being in charge anymore," you hear Flowey spit back.

"What do you even want with my soul?" you ask, confused.

"Don't you know, I thought it was clear as day. Not that I'd know," Flowey burrows and pops up closer to you. "A soul fused with both human and monster is one of the strongest beings in the world. Your determination combined with mine will overtake Frisk's so that I can reset again."

"Reset what?"

"To my last save, of course. If I can't forget I can at least take control."

You don't understand anything. "Save? Forget?"

"You wouldn't understand!" A vine is thrown against you, but you beat it down with your stick. It crawls back to the dirt where it disappears. "Finally feeling love and happiness, and then have it ripped from you! I was such an idiot! Why did I waste it all on that barrier?"

Another whip takes aim for your legs, it swipes you down but you roll away from it as it tries to grab you.

"You're insane, stop this. We'll figure out a way, Frisk can help."

"Frisk did this to me! Frisk made me waste it all!" Flowey screams back.

"Frisk is nice, they would never hurt a fly without a good reason," you counter.

"You idiot, they didn't hurt me, they saved me."

You pause for a second and Flowey throws a vine against your leg again. You block in the last second, but a thorn hits your thigh. The vine is twisted and the thorn breaks off. Despite it pressing against your muscles you leave it in as to not bleed.

"I felt like I had a soul. I could feel Asriel's happiness," he explains as he prepares another attack.

"How did you waste it?"

Flowey throws another vine at you. "Don't act stupid! You're a human, you made the barrier. Eight souls, seven human and one monster."

You sidestep it. "You, you broke the barrier? That's wonderful, you're a hero."

"I saved a nation of idiots."

You grab an attacking vine in your hand and beat it repeatedly with your stick. The plant convulses with each hit. Another petal hits your arm and rips up another wound. You tear off a piece of your shirt to compress the wound. The broken vine whimpers away.

"Frisk would've hugged it, you're different," Flowey teases with an extended tongue.

"Right now it is you or me, and I'm not taking any chances with you." You roll your shoulder to see how much movement you have left. "You're unstable, desperate, sad. The barrier, what happened? I saw magic and Frisk's footsteps."

"They faced a god! They faced me. I was the most powerful being in the universe," Flowey boasts.

"And you were hugged to death? Not exactly godlike," you scoff out.

Two vines slam into you from both sides and you try to block one with your stick and the other with your arm. The impact leaves it bloody and shaking from the pain.

"I felt happiness! It felt good, and Frisk took it away. They saved me! I cried like a moron, but they didn't want to give me up. We hugged, I felt the warmth of my fur against someone else." You hear echoing sobs. "Then, I broke the barrier."

You readjust your makeshift bandage while you have the chance. "You made the right choice, Flowey. You saved your monster friends, you saved your parents. You did good. You're not evil, just let me go, Asriel."

"Don't call me that!" Vines sprout from every direction, and you barely manage to dodge them all. They hit you, but they don't grab you. They don't have a target. "I'm not that crybaby! He's dead. I'm just made from the dust he left behind. I have his memories, I know how happy he was, but I can't feel it. I can't feel anything good. I've no love, I only feel what he felt when he died."

"You're depressed! I can help, Frisk can help. We'll figure something out," you say through clenched teeth while bandaging your new wounds. You're rapidly running out of cloth.

"Just reset, make me forget all this! Make me forget being happy," Flowey begs angrily.

You shake your head. "I can't, I don't have magic."

"You're human!" Flowey curses at you.

You swipe your hand in the air."Doesn't matter."

"Liar, just like Frisk!"

"What did Frisk do?"

Flowey shrinks."They left me here, left me to feel my emotions drain away."

"Not without a reason."

"I told them to go, to live their life. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I turned back." Flowey turns away from you. "The pain, it hurt so bad. I screamed, I cried, but no one came. I felt my emotions drain away and be replaced by void. I threw up, I cried after mom, after dad, after Chara." You feel the ground below you starting to shake. "But no one came!"

Huge spires of green emerge violently from the ground creating a forest of sharp thorns. The thorns expand and start vibrating. You throw yourself on the ground just in time as the air above is filled with thousands of spears cutting through each other and the spires. They begin to fall down, and you scramble on your knees before throwing yourself away from one closing in on you. It lands with a deafening thud.

"Asriel, Frisk did everything they could. You can't ask for more," you remind him.

"They left me alone!" he shouts back.

"You asked them to. You didn't want them to see you return to this, you wanted them to remember you as Asriel, not Flowey."

"Asriel is dead, he's not coming back. I'm him, but I'm not."

You relax your pose. "Just let him take over, maybe you could feel happy again?"

"It's not how that works. I need a soul."

You try to catch your breath. "We can find you a soul! Alphys is smart, she can figure out a way."

The sobs stop and are replaced by an uncomfortable laugh. "Alphys?" Flowey sprouts up just outside the paved road. He twists his face into Alphys'.

"A-alphys is the on-ne that m-made me," you hear him say with Alphys' voice. "The f-fat nerd t-thought she could impress As-sgore. I was j-just another experim-ment, another Am-malgamat-te. Why d-did I l-live?" His face melts leaving just her glasses hanging on an unrecognizable form.

"She probably had good intentions, she is a scientist and accidents happens," you try to keep your voice steady, but you can hear it clearly shake.

"S-she was just follow-wing orders, the real villain here is As-sgore."

The residue of Alphys is morphed into Asgore's visage. You almost throw up watching the process.

"Golly, look at me, I'm Asgore! I can't get over my children dying and my old hag leaving me. How about I tell this mentally unstable monster to inject my subjects with the very essence that killed my kids. Golly, that didn't work. Oh well, she'll just seal them down in the True Lab. No biggie!."

You spit out your sick. "You, he."

"Oh, golly, look, humans are falling down. I'll just kill them and destroy the barrier instead."

"Asgore did what?" you yell out.

Flowey's face returns to normal, if you call can it that. "He didn't tell you? Well, I'm not really surprised. You're a nobody, you just stumbled into their life."

"Toriel employed me, she wants me to teach the monster kids," you retort.

"She's too nice for her own good, just like Frisk. She saw another of her children and had to take care of it. You know how many of her quote unquote children are still alive? Two! You, and Frisk. The rest? Those that are more than just two? Dead."

A pair of motherly eyes replace Flowey's, but they're quickly crossed. "My child, look at me, my child! I'm Toriel, my child. I try to kill kids, my child. Instead of helping my degenerate king, my child, I leave him, my child. Trying to fill the void I created, my child, I hold fallen humans hostage until they prove themselves in my trial of fire, my child."

You can't listen anymore and you swing your stick towards Flowey. He smiles as Toriel and ducks underground. You quickly back up as vines try to grab you from the dirt.

"Are we having feelings for her? She's my mother. I don't give you permission," you hear him tease you outside of your vision.

"No feelings. I just hate bad imitations," you shout back.

You can see the shape of Toriel forming in the distance. It bends itself to show off its buxom form and beckons you to come to it with a seductive finger.

"Embrace me with your humanity, my child," you hear it say with a seductive voice.

You feel, something, but you quickly shut it away. Flowey notices and makes Toriel do a rude gesture before crumpling in pain.

"You love her," Flowey says with a condescending voice.

"If you think so I'll gladly pluck your petals to see if she really does," you growl out.

"You're tough all over a sudden? Just like?"

A vine shaped like a spear whistles pass your ear.

"Undyne? Punk, you think you can defeat the leader of the Royal Guard. NGAAH, I'm the toughest monster in the Underground, but I lack the strength to lift a finger against my king. I kill children without asking, like a good soldier, and I'm praised for it," Flowey winks at you again with Undyne's face. "I also only love Alphys because of her tail."

"No, enough! You know nothing about them! Despite their flaws they are still good people! Just like you and me, Asriel," you snarl back.

"Don't!"

You swipe a petal out of the air. "The Underground was their prison, and now that they're on the surface they're turning over a new chapter, a new life. I'll not sit idly by to see you try to destroy it, even if you use my soul. I'll fight every second, every breath you take with my essence. Their friendship opened up a new chapter for me as well, and I'll be damned if I let you destroy it."

Flowey moves closer to you. "They are murderers and liars! They have blood on their hands, human blood."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now let me go and I'll forget all of this. Last chance."

Flowey bursts out in laughter. "You, be the judge of monsters that you've know for what, a week? I've known them for far longer then you could ever imagine. They are the scum of the earth and should have stayed here in the Underground."

You raise an eyebrow. "With you?"

Flowey flinches. "They...they are."

The vines around you retract.

"You can't leave can you? Not without help, not without a soul."

"I can leave whenever I want!" Flowey spits back.

"Then follow me back up. We'll fix you, Asriel, we'll help you," you promise while looking in his eyes.

Flowey shakes his head. "I can't."

"I have a spare pot, don't worry," you propose with a smile

"No, I can't!" The air around you seems calmer and the vines slink back into the ground. "Somebody needs to take care of these flowers," he says with his head hunched over.

You squat down. "I'll take care of the flowers for you. Asgore is building another laboratory, humans and monsters will be working together. Just tell the truth and he'll get right to it. Science and magic, we will find a way."

"I was created by science and magic."

You scoff. "Just magic technically. Science is, you know what, I'll tell you when you get up there."

The sobs return. "D-don't tell Toriel who I am, or Asgore, or anyone. They can't know."

You nod carefully. "My lips are sealed. Just let me go. I'll come back for you, with Frisk."

You hear the door behind you relax and you bolt up the stairs for it. You fling it open and take a step outside. The ground under you sounds different after just a couple of footsteps. Dirt! Two vines burst up from the ground. They grab your ankles, and you fall over. The stick bounces out of your reach. You still try to reach for it, but Flowey surfaces just before your face.

"Just like Frisk," he smiles with a mixture of all of his faces.

You're dragged back behind the door.

"We made a deal, I'll take you to the Surface, I promise," you yell as you struggle to break free.

Flowey shakes his head. "Just like Frisk." He throws you onto the bed of Golden Flowers and stretches you out for a second time. He slices you and you scream. He stabs you and you wail. He maims you and you cry for help.

"Your soul is persistent, your determination must tower over Frisk'! I'll make good use of it."

"Please," you whimper out.

"Guess I forgot to tell you." Flowey brushes a bloody lock of hair out of your eyes and looks deep into them. "In this world it is kill or be killed."

He thrusts a sharp vine towards your heart and you close your eyes. Screams fill the cavern, but they're not yours. With your last strength you force your eyelids open to see Flowey caressing a smoldering vine. He drops you and tunnels back into the dirt.

The thorns Flowey stabbed you with dig deeper into your flesh when you land. You lose your breath from the impact. You struggle to turn yourself against your savior.

"Asgore, help," you plead.

"No! Not again!" you hear him cry out. He makes short work of the distance between you. "Don't worry, human, I'll get you to safety!" He turns around. "Call your human doctors, tell them to meet us at the foot of the mountain," he commands.

You can hear human voices speaking, but you can't see them, your vision is blurry.

"Asgore, he," you try to explain.

He squeezes your head gently. "No, don't say anything, save your strength." You can hear a robotic voice for a second before Asgore speaks again. "Papyrus, get your other car and drive to the Ruins! Have Undyne clear a path to the Barrier, the human is in critical condition!"

You feel cold.

You hear Papyrus confirming the order and then an engine starting through the phone. "Human, stay with me. Papyrus is on his way, we'll get you to a human hospital. Your soul doesn't respond, I can't heal you."

"I don't feel anything."

Darkness envelops you.


	23. Days passing by

"Cause of injury?"

You feel that you're moving and through tired eyes you see silhouettes of multiple people moving with you.

"Classified."

A bump sends pain through your entire body, but you don't have enough strength to address it.

"Thorns don't grow that big. Not here, not anywhere. This is nothing I've ever seen. Is this magic?"

Something foreign enters your wrist and you feel pressure inside it.

"Will anything happen to their survival chance if I say that they fell into a very sharp bush?"

You feel comforting warmth spread out around your body from your arm.

"No, we'll do everything we can, ma'am. Prepare an OR!"

You let the warmth sweep you away.

"They're not stable and I strongly advise against waking them!" you hear an angry voice yell.

A door is closed and you hear a plastic bag rustle. Like a bucket of ice over your head you jolt up from the shock. You feel a rib crack and you try to clutch it, but you can't move your arm as it is firmly locked inside a cast. A hand grips your jaw and turns it towards a man in a black suit. He stares at you.

"Was there any talk about any dead humans down in the Underground?" he asks.

"I don't know! I don't remember," you cry as you try to navigate the haze that is your memory.

You throw up from the pain that screams inside you and the man is forced to dodge it. He nods to someone behind you and you hear another rustle. The haze disappears violently and your head starts spinning.

"That should have given you some motivation. Let's try again."

The memory comes rushing towards your mouth. You try to keep quiet, but you can't stand this pain! "Yes!" you answer.

The man nods again, but this time towards you, "Thank you, go back to sleep."

You feel another wave of pressure in your wrist. With your last strength you try and fight it.

"Why?" you whisper out.

"No reason, just want to be safe, that's all," he says as he nods again.

The wave that enters you hits like a tsunami and you're swept away.

"Toriel, you don't have to sit here, the doctors are taking good care of them. You have to trust them."

"I know, Asgore, but if I may, I'd like to be here when they wake up. I want them to see a familiar face. They need one right now."

You feel warm fur brushing against your cheek.

"My child, what did he do to you?"

You feel a drop of liquid hit your arm.

"The doctors told us not to touch them, Toriel. Our fur, it could get stuck and disrupt their healing, something called bacteria."

The hand is removed and you grunt in protest. Put it back! Please!

"Yes, I know. I just...I want to help them."

"So do I, Toriel, but the best way is to let the doctors do their work."

A couple of seconds pass and the only thing you hear is rhythmical beeping.

"Sans said that Frisk was hungry, do you want anything as well?"

"I don't know, something."

You feel a comforting hand grasp yours.

"It's OK, dear...Toriel."

A small gust of air hits your face as the door closes. You try to grab Toriel's hand, but you're too exhausted. No! No. No... You lose consciousness.

You're turned to one side and you moan as weight is put on your arm. Something wet is applied to your back. You hear muffled voices.

"Doctor, would you please explain to the gentlemen the side effects of the medicine you're administrating?"

"We don't have time for this," argues an annoyed voice.

"A failure to plan on your part does not induce a rush on my part. Doctor, please."

"The medicine can, in rare cases, cause lack of appetite, hair loss, numbness and depression," you hear a third voice explain.

"And if my memory serves me right, depression can manifest in false memory or similar?"

"In rare cases, yes."

"So we can conclude that anything said from an individual that undergoes regular injections is not to be trustworthy? That what they say wouldn't hold up in court?"

"Again, in rare cases."

"Well, this is a rare case if I've ever seen one, or else the gentlemen wouldn't be here now, would he? Now off with you, family visits only."

You hear a door open and heated arguments sneaks through before it's closed. The argument is still present, but the voices are too muffled to make out any words.

"I can't imagine the sums that lawyer must be cashing in, but he's worth every penny. Did you hear that? Silver tongue if I ever heard one."

The hand on your back stop and you feel it shake.

"Oh, they're awake. Anything unusual?"

"No, nothing since yesterday," you hear the person behind you say.

"Good, I'll fetch us some coffee. Give them another dose."

Your hand twitches as your wrist react to the fluid flowing into you. You feel your strength leave you, and your eyelids fall shut.

"S-so there's m-millions of tiny c-creatures on me?"

"In a nutshell, yes. Not all are dangerous, in fact, we humans have more bacteria than cells of our own. We live in symbiosis. You've lived for some time down in an area we humans have not acclimated to. I mean, we would probably have no problem living there, but if you're as weak as they are." The voice pauses. "We just don't want to risk an infection, you can be in the same room, but no touching for now."

"T-thank you doctor, y-your human science is fascinating."

"Any time, call me if something happens."

You hear a door close.

"NGAH, why can't we just heal them? They will be back up in no time. I want to help them teach again."

"Their soul is not responding, nothing we can do."

"What about Frisk? We could heal Frisk. They just need to, I don't know, express their determination. Maybe if they-"

"Undyne, it's OK."

"No, Asgore, it's not! They almost died by that freak of nature! I should-"

You can hear cracks and sparks.

"U-Und-dy, n-no spears."

The violent sounds disperse.

"Sorry, Alphee. I, I just don't want to see them like this."

"N-none of us want."

You try to raise a hand to tell them that you're OK. but the effort drains everything from you. You feel a tear going down your cheek before you fall asleep.

"Morning, did we get some sleep?" your doctor asks.

You nod.

"Great, you're not showing any severe symptoms of withdrawal, just what I like to hear. And hey, less work for me. Win win, right?" He gives you a wink and you return a smile.

A head peeks inside. "The, um, government is here," it says.

Your doctor sighs and excuses himself. He closes the door behind him. A gust of wind rattles the curtains shortly after, and you hear snores from besides you. You turn your head to see Sans sleeping on a chair next to you.

"been a while, hasn't it? good to see you awake," he says as he wakes up.

You nod.

He scratches his head. "man, i'm sorry i left you. if i would've known that flowey was there, waiting."

You look him in the eye holes and shake your head.

"thank you. it means a lot."

You nod again.

"oh, before i forget, mettaton called. he wanted to do another show with you."

You widen your eyes.

"don't worry, radentim said no in your place."

The beeps on your heart monitor slows down to a normal rhythm.

He points over your shoulder. "what is that machine?"

You turn to see which machine he was talking about, and when you're halfway you feel another breeze. When you turn your head back Sans is gone, and a book and a note is in his place.

You pick up the book and lower your eyebrows when you see which one it is. The note is from the librabrian. "Reading is good for the soul, get well soon," it reads.

You open the first chapter.

"Once upon a time there was an ugly human." it begins.

You manage two chapters before falling asleep.

"OK, I want you to give me a sharp C," your doctor requests.

You wheeze as you laugh at the request.

"OK, a clean A then."

Your vocal chords hurt but you manage you produce an A.

He removes his flashlight from your mouth. "Good, let's give your throat a rest. Drink some water. I'll get this tube out of your sight. You must be tired of looking at it."

"Thank you," you say with some effort.

"Don't overdo it."

The door is slammed open and a group of suited individuals enter your room. You look at your doctor to see him staring down the intruders.

"You have no right to be in here, leave at once!" he commands them.

"Doctor, we have a warrant for your arrest," they inform coldly.

He takes a step forward. "On what grounds?"

"Malpractice, details will be expanded upon later. Please follow us."

A woman cuffs your doctor and escorts him outside. A man nods to the others and they extend the blinders over the glass wall. "Now, finally some time alone with you." He takes a seat nest to you. "Tell us everything."

You point to your throat and shrug your shoulders.

"Don't lie to us, we have a strict schedule."

You take a mouthful of water. "A failure to plan on your part does not induce a rush on my part," you respond with your raspy voice.

"So, you heard that? We only want to know if the monsters are dangerous, you know? If they see us as weak they might retaliate against us. Start a war." He takes you hand in his. "You wouldn't want war with them, would you? You'd be out of a job."

You freeze up.

The man smirks. "Of course we know that you work for them. Don't be naive. You have classes in one, if not the, most notable buildings in your town." The suit produces a paper from his...suit. "The monsters even applied for a permit. We have their signatures. This was not some covert guerrilla education, it was a legit school." He points to the bottom of the page. "It even has a name, 'Above School'." The suit slides the paper back inside his suit. "Now they're in full swing with erecting a laboratory! We just want to know if there is anything that might spark an investigation."

You open your mouth to speak but before you can, the door is thrust wide open. A grown up version of Monster Kid steps in with a red forehead.

"Gentlemen, is there anyone who would like to explain to me why my client is being dragged away without his lawyer with accusations that dance in the fields of ludicrousness?" the yellow monsters asks to the room. He doesn't get an answer. "While you're on the road to clarification could you also tell me why you've ignored not only monster, but human law as well, by stepping foot in this room?"

The monster bends down and takes his briefcase from his tail into his mouth. He opens it with a tooth, and scours through the papers with his tongue. He bites one and presents it to the baffled group of suits. "Court order," he says with a muffled voice.

The paper is removed from his mouth by an unwilling hand.

"Anyone that wishes to meet with my client is to go through the Royal Guard. Call me a betting beast, but I don't think you're on that list. Please leave."

The suits read through the paper slowly. Your lawyer is tapping his foot. After a couple of minutes his patience runs dry, and he bumps his shoulder to his ear. "Undyne, please report to me. I have some unruly guests I need removed."

You hear a pleased yell and footsteps getting louder. Undyne slides in through the door. She has a set of purple armor donned with the Dreemurr crest and a blue spear in one hand. "Punks, by the power bestowed upon me as the leader of the Royal Guard I give you this one warning before I bundle you up and roll you out like a ball of human spaghetti!" She sends more energy to her spear and it grows. "And I warn you, I haven't eaten since breakfast."

The suits scramble for the door and leave quickly.

"Could you also halt the people dragging away the good doctor?" your apparent lawyer asks Undyne. "Tell them that he will be more than happy to follow them once he's accompanied with his lawyer."

Undyne salutes and rushes down the corridor with her spear in hand. You hear yelling shortly after.

The door is closed with a gentle shoulder. "So, you must be my son's human science teacher. I've heard much about, seen much as well," your lawyer says as he sits down next to you.

"Yeah, I am," you cough and extend your arm for your water. A tail is wrapped around it and brings the glass closer to you. You take it with a questioning look on your face.

"I have no problem using my tail. The court order was just for shock effect," your lawyer explains with a smile. "I wanted them to force my hand and summon Undyne. I reckoned it would get my point across better if I proved that my threats weren't empty."

You nod and take a sip of water. A question you've been thinking about for a while comes back and you make a falling motion with your hand.

"No, not when we're adults. MK's tail will improve his balance when he gets older, but for now." Your lawyer shakes his head. "Just make sure that the kids don't bully him for it. He doesn't seem to mind, but I'm his dad, I have to worry."

You nod.

"Anyway, I look forward having you as a client. Might get as exciting as that one time Mettaton hired me!" Your lawyer laughs and shake his head. "Ho boy, power corrupts in more ways than one, let me tell you that." He dives back into his briefcase and surfaces with a card in his mouth. "If you have any questions feel free to give me a call."

You glance at his tail.

"You ever tried to wrap your tail around something this flimsy?" your lawyer asks through his teeth.

You shake your head and take the card.

"Perfect! If there's nothing else on your mind at the moment I need to tend to my other client."

You smile and extend your hand to meet his. It hangs in the air for a second before you realize. He gives you an eyebrow and stands up.

"Until next time, human," he wishes with an understanding nod.

You wave goodbye and turn to your IV drip. Unfortunately you can't up your dose, so you have to face the reality that you're gonna remember your blunder. You return to your book.

"Chapter 3: Exiled! The ugly human, that is."

You blow air through you lips and decide to try to get some rest instead.

You hear plastic rustle, but it's probably just a nurse, you try to get back to sleep. The rustle doesn't stop, but you keep your eyes closed. You also hear some whispering, but that's normal. What's not normal is the footsteps trying poorly to sneak up on you. You open one eye.

"THE HUMAN IS AWAKE!"

You jolt up and a machine starts beeping. A nurse comes rushing in and almost bumps with Papyrus as he steps away from your bed. The nurse concludes that nothing is wrong and leave while muttering angrily. You turn your head to the other corner of the room. Balloons and present are stacked on top of each other.

"Happy birthday!" you hear a group of voices congratulate.

The room becomes crowded as your guests fill it with song and cheers. Toriel walks up to you and gives you a warm hug. "My child, I've missed you so much. I'm so happy to see you awake."

You feel something wet hit your shoulder and return the hug despite it hurting quite a bit. "I've missed you all too," you reply.

So long... It's been so long.

Toriel stands up but leaves her hand hanging on your cheek for a second. Frisk comes up to you on the other side of the bed and hands you a freshly baked pie.

"You made this?" you ask them.

Frisk nods.

"We'll eat it later. You have some presents to open first," Asgore takes voice from across the room. He motions to a corner where a small pile of presents are stacked up high.

Alphys, Papyrus, Undyne and Frisk run towards the pile of presents and dump them on your bed. A couple hit your legs and you have to fight to not show the pain.

"Alphee's and mine first!" Undyne yells.

A brightly colored package with kittens in different costumes is brought before you. You open it and pull out a statue of a cat wielding a sword. You place it in your hand and it shifts its stand. "This area is now under the protection of MewMew Martial Artist," it declares loudly while raising its sword.

"Wow, cool. Thank you."

You place it on the night stand next to you. It bows and sheets its sword.

"MY TURN!"

Papyrus' present is stained with sauce, and inside there's a picture frame containing a picture of him smiling while posing. Beside it is a plate of spaghetti.

"Thank you, Papyrus. I'll eat it later if it's OK with you."

"YES, IT'LL TASTE BETTER THEN!"

You place the picture and the plate on the drawer next to your bed.

"I guess it is our turn now, Frisk," Toriel says.

Frisk nods and gives you a beautifully wrapped box. You feel a bit sad that you need to open it. The box contains a purple sweater with the Dreemurr insignia on it.

You turn it around with your jaw on the floor. "This is- Thank you so much."

"We made it by hand, right, Frisk?"

Frisk nods.

"Where did you get my size? Did you break into my house again?" You snap your fingers. "Wait, let me guess, Radentim?"

Sans hands you a loosely wrapped bottle. "yup."

The paper falls off by itself when you take it to reveal a vintage bottle of ketchup. "the best ketchup in all the underground. take it from me."

"I'll treasure it dearly and with your brother's spaghetti I'll be catching up anytime now," you smile out.

You hear both snickering and grumblings.

"Asgore, w-where is your p-present?"

He stands up from his chair. It squeaks. "I've already given it, the best human medicine and the best monster lawyer."

"Thank you, Asgore. From the bottom of my heart," you thank with utmost sincerity in your voice. It clears up quite a bit.

"And from us as well," Toriel adds.

He nods while smiling. "Could I get a moment alone with them? Just a formality our lawyer wanted to clear up."

"Why can't we stay?" Toriel asks.

"This matter is between us three, unfortunately. ML insisted. Please? It will just be a minute."

Toriel nods and shuffles the rest out of the door. Asgore closes the door and the blinds. He takes a chair, and sits down next to you. You hear a loud complaint from it.

"Human, what have you said to your officials? I'm not judging, I just need to know."

"Funny, they said the same thing," you remember.

"And what did you tell them?"

"Nothing."

He nods. "You sure?"

"There's something...but I don't know if it's real or not. It is just a blur in my head."

Asgore leans forwards on his hands. "Go on."

"They forced me awake, I think. They asked me whether or not there was any talk about dead humans."

"What did you answer?"

"I couldn't help it! I felt sick, it hurt! Everything hurt. I just wanted to get back to sleep. The pain was...I thought I was back with Flowey. I-"

Asgore puts a gentle and warm hand on your shoulder. "Human, Flowey is not here, you're safe. Look at me."

His eyes fill you with calm and his smile numbs the pain you remember.

"What did you say?" he asks again, softly.

You look down on your exhausted body. It combined with your birthday indicates one thing, you've been here for a very long time. You lift a very skinny arm, it is covered with bandages and tubes.

"I said yes."

He acknowledges the information with a faint hum. You look at him with pleading eyes. He smiles. "You have no reason to feel guilty. If there's anyone you should be mad about, it is Flowey."

You nod weakly. "I'm tired."

He motions for the window leading to the hallway. "Do you have enough strength to say goodbye to them?"

"I think so."

He opens the blinders and the door. Undyne and Papyrus have their cheeks pressed against the glass. Asgore narrows his eyes and they jump back away from it.

"The human is a bit tired, but they would like to say goodbye. Come in."

They all enter.

"I didn't want to tell you this now, I wanted it to be surprise. I'm gonna oversee your rehabilitation," Undyne says proudly.

You give her a tired thumbs up. "I look forward to it. Finally you get to whip me in shape."

She flashes you a smile. "Get well soon, human."

"Will do," you promise with an exhausted voice.

"The kids miss you," Toriel says.

"I miss them as well. I promise to get back to teaching as soon as I can."

You pat Frisk on the head. A yawn surprises you, and Toriel nods to the others. They wave goodbye and leave you alone in your hospital room.

The silence that follows is deafening, and when you're sure that they're out of hearing distance you lift your hands up. You make a fist and it takes some effort. They fall heavily on your bed and even though your energy is nowhere to be found, you start to weep.


	24. What doesn't kill you

"Focus, visualize. Your foot is gonna make the very core of the earth shake! Stomp that training mat like you would that weed Flowey."

Undyne's excitement eclipse even yours as you lift yourself up with the help of two handlebars and slowly put weight on one foot. She squats down and starts screaming encouragements at your ankle. "You were made to carry the weight of this awesome human! Breaktime is over, you've had your rest! Time to work!" 

A joint pops and she freezes with a quiet no.

You assure her that it didn't hurt.

"You positive?" she asks while putting out a careful hand. "One hundred percent? Let's not push it if you're feeling something."

You spin your ankle carefully. "Yes, it's fine."

"Then why did you stop? Keep going!" she says with a huge smile.

Your knee makes a weak protest as you lean more forward, but you feel that it will hold. You lift your other leg and feel your thigh strain.

"You're the best! The coolest! Just one more step!"

Pain starts creeping up, and you feel your breathing becoming sharp. You carefully lower the other leg and distribute weight onto it. You laugh in relief.

"Hahaha, suck it Flowey, the human lives! You did your worst, but the human walks again. You better stay hidden."

She stands up and raises a hand. You lift up your closest to slap it, but your legs give in from the lack of support, and you fall down.

"No!" you scream out in panic.

Undyne catches you carefully. Your cheek scratches against her scales and you grunt from the friction.

"That was a bit greedy. Sorry." Undyne flashes you a smile, but you look down at your legs. "Hey, don't sweat it. You're making huge progress, but that was greedy. If I hadn't caught you." Undyne snaps her fingers. "Bang, twice the rehabilitation, at the vert least. Let's not think of that though."

She places you in your wheelchair and walks around it.

"Lunch?" she wonders as she bends over the chair.

You swat a tuft of red hair from your face. "If you don't mind."

She whips her head back up. "Always in the mood for food."

You snicker as you hear her grumble at her own pun. Undyne mutters angrily to herself as she wheels you out of the room.

"Is Alphys OK with being my substitute teacher? I mean, she has other classes to tend to as well, right?" you ask while being wheeled down the hallway.

"She's fine. We finished the last episode of MewMew a week ago so she needs something to occupy her mind with."

"Was it a good episode?"

You hear Undyne's lungs fill with air, and brace yourself.

"It was the best! He used his soulattack, but because he like, mixed it with his sword it became a huge purple dragon. It clashed with the red tiger and there were so many explosions of magic. Like when Frisk fought. So cool! Then his dragon vanished and he had to dodge the tiger like," Undyne pushes your wheelchair from side to side while making sound effects with her mouth. "You have to start watching it! Then when the next season comes we can watch it together."

You give her a thumbs up. "Sure."

You summon an elevator while Undyne reenacts the battle with her hand and mouth. After a while it reaches your floor. Undyne moves you to the side so that the people inside can leave. They thank her and she gives them a smile. She then rolls you in and you request the proper floor from the button panel.

"You know what's on the menu?" she asks you after she hears her stomach rumbling.

"Fish...Um, I mean, uh, fryish meat," you try to save.

"Fryish?"

"Yeah, but it is an acquired taste. I wouldn't recommend the hospital's," you lie.

She holds out her tongue. "Yuck. Anything else?"

"Lasagna, something vegetarian, pancakes, and meat with something, don't remember exactly what."

The elevator beeps.

"Sounds good," she nods.

The queue moves rapidly and you and Undyne buy your food in a matter of minutes. You manage to divert her attention from the fish, but only barely. Undyne seats you at the window with a view towards Mt. Ebott. She sits for a while with her head turned towards the window.

"Didn't you say that you were hungry?" you wonder with your mouth half full, and with your fork pointing towards her plate.

She turns back her head to reveal a tear in her eye. You look out the window and see Mt. Ebott standing proudly in the midday sun. In the reflection you also see people staring at you and Undyne. You turn your head to force the other to turn their eyes to their own food.

"You've dreamed about this, right? Seeing the mountain from the outside?" you ask Undyne.

She nods.

"How about we go hiking on the other mountain once I'm back? You can catch a great view of Mt. Ebott once the sun sets."

"Can I do squats on the way up?"

"Absolutely. I'll join you."

You clean your teeth with your tongue before you give her a smile. She returns it and starts with her food. Threats and insults against the food turns some heads, but you again counter them. She finishes her food just before you and leans back with a toothpick in her smile.

"Your human spices makes it feel like there's a ravaging battle in my mouth. I love it!"

"Mine was a bit tasteless," you frown.

"Sad to hear that. Dessert?"

"My doctor wouldn't recommend it, but I could go for something sweet."

She nods and leaves for the dessert area. You can see plenty of heads turning as she passes them.

The heads start whispering as she fiddles with the coffee machine, but they stop when she starts making her way back to you. One head leans low and returns up to give you a wink and a thumbs up. You raise an eyebrow at them.

"Grab my buns, will you?" Undyne asks of you as she comes back.

"What?"

She bounces her hot buns and you take some and put them on your plate.

"Cardamom rolls?"

"Toriel always bakes with cinnamon and butterscotch, right?" Undyne stirs her coffee with loud clanks while easing herself down into her chair. "So I thought that some variety could be good for your taste buds."

"I thought there was only plastic spoons?" you ask, indicating towards her coffee cup.

She lifts up a small spear. "It keeps the coffee warm and I don't have to wash it."

"Pretty handy," you say with a nod.

"Sure is."

Undyne and you spend some time just looking at Mt. Ebott.

"Isn't this just crazy?" you finally say.

She snickers. "What part, exactly? Gotta be specific here."

"The part where I'm sitting here, with a monster, and I'm not afraid. Been some pretty interesting weeks."

She nods. "Could say the same."

"Despite this." You wave with your bandaged arm. "I'm still happy you guys resurfaced."

Undyne makes a fist. "If I ever see that weed again I'm gonna make salad out of him."

"Serve him to me with some dressing afterwards will you?"

She grins. "You bet."

A few more nice moments of you and Undyne watching Mt. Ebott in silence passes before Undyne finishes her coffee. "Let's go, human." You take a pastry for the way back. When you get back to your room Undyne helps you back into your bed.

"I'll be back tomorrow for another session," she reminds before waving goodbye.

"I'll be, here," you smile sarcastically.

"Not for long, I promise you."

You nod and she leaves you, alone, again. You close your eyes to try to make the day go faster. It doesn't. Neither do the next.

Or the next.

Or the next.

Or the next...

Finally, after what feels like an eternity.

"No, Frisk. Bend your knees. A bit further up with your hand. Feel the weight transfer to your wrist. Now twirl it."

You yawn away the sleep and open the blinds to see Frisk and Undyne fighting with two metal rods, the hilts of which looks familiar. You reach over and throw your book on the window pane, interrupting their session with the loud impact. Undyne quickly disarms Frisk and smiles at you. They both enter with blushes on their faces.

You point at the rods. "Are those my?"

"Crutches, yes," Undyne answers while twirling them between her fingers.

"My dented crutches," you correct.

"You were asleep and we became bored," she explains.

You swing your legs over the edge of your bed and take your crutches. They still work, despite Undyne and Frisk's best efforts, and you take a few steps. As you turn around to walk back to your bed Undyne scoops you up in your wheelchair.

"Your doctor said that you can walk once you're out of the hospital! Until then..."

You roll your eyes. "I guess five minutes isn't so bad considering how much time I've spent here."

Frisk tugs your arm and you turn your head to see them stretching out for you. You pick them up and place them, carefully, on your knees. They spot and dry a tear off from your cheek. You laugh and ruffle their hair.

"Get me home, Undyne," you ask with an unsteady voice.

"Papyrus is waiting! Let's go."

You meet your doctor in the hallway and shake his hand. "Thank you, doctor, for everything."

"Asgore has thanked me well enough. Glad to see you healthy," he reassures.

"Glad to be healthy."

He laughs and wishes you luck before entering his office. A few seconds later you reach the elevator at the end of the corridor. You let Frisk push the button to summon the elevator. With every floor that passes you feel yourself getting more and more excited. You've been here for a very long time, and to know that you're finally coming home makes another tear form. You wipe it away before either Frisk or Undyne notices.

"HUMAN! YOU ARE WALKING! THIS IS TRULY A MOMENTOUS DAY!"

You awkwardly seat yourself in the front seat. "Is this the same car that stole me from Mettaton's show?"

"Saved, we saved you. Asgore's order," Undyne corrects from the backseat.

You turn around to face her. "Saved me? I wasn't in danger, not really."

"Yeah, because we saved you. I had to subdue that dense dishwasher in front of a live audience, was fun."

You shrug your shoulders and Papyrus ignites the engine.

"The engine sounds, different," you comment.

"ALPHYS MADE THE REPAIRS!"

"Catchy tune, but is it legal?"

He puts a suction cup on a pair of sunglasses and presses them against his forehead.

"NO IDEA!"

The wheels scream as Papyrus whips the car around and slams in the first gear. You're on the road in a matter of seconds, and you lean back to enjoy the sunshine. You've missed the warmth of the sun dancing on your face. Now you feel like you understand Undyne's happiness, at least a little bit.

Your home.

You've missed it. The smell, the color, the...memories. Frisk holds the door open for you, and you thank them. Papyrus and Undyne follows closely behind you with your luggage. Papyrus runs upstairs while Undyne does squats on every step. You follow them, slowly.

"You don't have to help," Undyne assures as you make it upstairs.

"Yes I do, otherwise you'll just use my shower again."

She throws your bags inside the bedroom while glancing at the bathroom door. You shake your head. She takes a step towards it.

"You'll regret it," you threaten.

"Who's gonna stop me? You?" she laughs while walking nonchalantly towards the door.

"No, him."

Papyrus flings open the door. It barely misses Undyne's face.

"NO SHOWERS, UNDYNE! HUMAN'S ORDER!"

You shift your balance to your elbows and cross your arms. She smiles back.

"Papyrus, I'm your leader, and I demand the use of the shower."

You shift your eyes to Papyrus.

"IT'S THE HUMAN'S HOUSE! HUMAN LAW APPLIES HERE!"

"So unless you plan to annex my property in the name of the Underground you have to ask nicely from now on," you add.

She bends over as she guffaws. "When did you plan all this?" she asks.

"I've had plenty of time to think. Helped me stay sane."

Undyne offers her closed fist. "You're awesome, you know that?"

You bump it. "Of course I do, and that's why I'm going to allow you the use of my shower."

She tries to enter the bathroom but Papyrus puts an arm in front of her.

"After we're done with my bags."

Papyrus lifts her up and carries her into your bedroom. You limp in behind them, but stop at the doorstep.

"Why is everything clean? There should be dust everywhere. I haven't been here in ages."

"WE CLEANED IT!"

"When?"

"EVERY WEEK!"

You furrow your brow. "How did you get inside?"

"great question," Sans quips.

You tilt your head down towards him. "And I expect a great answer."

"you left the door open and we found a spare key."

You scoff. "Of course I did."

"DON'T BE AFRAID, HUMAN! I'VE MADE A NOTE SO THAT YOU CAN REMEMBER TO LOCK YOUR DOOR! I WOULD RECOMMEND YOU READ IT THROUGH CAREFULLY SO THAT YOU DON'T GET UNWELCOMED VISITORS! THE NOTE IS IN YOUR BAG!"

He digs through one and picks up the MewMew statue. It is holding a shredded piece of paper. The statue proclaims its victory and sheets its blade.

"NYAH, HOW WILL THE HUMAN REMEMBER NOW?"

"I'll manage, somehow," you hope.

"by the way, you have someone waiting for you in your shed," Sans notes.

"Let's shed some light over who it is then."

Two grunts, one snickers.

As you make your way down the stairs you hear faint footsteps.

"After you're done, Undyne!" you remind up the stairs.

Heavy footsteps retreat to your bedroom.

Sans holds the patio door open for you, and walks with you to the shed. He asks you to wait outside. "Sure?" You hear some whispers before you see him exit with your wheelbarrow.

You shake your head at the sight. "Of all the things I thought I would see today."

Alphys comes out with a stained coat wringing a pair of oily claws. "Y-you don't like it?"

"No, I mean, yes. I'm just a bit stunned. I thought it broke when we crashed into the Lab."

"W-well it did, I fixed it."

Sans clears his throat. "we fixed it. i helped."

"Pray tell, how?" you pry.

"moral support."

You lift an eyebrow. "Alphys works better when she hears snores?"

"you'd be amazed."

"I see that you've added some beeping lights," you notice.

"Y-yes, I upgraded the b-battery capacity."

"By adding lights that drain the battery?" you interrupt. "Sorry, please continue."

"T-top speed and acceleration should be twice as good," she continues.

"Nice, I look forward to using it when my legs get better. How much do I owe you?"

"I w-was the reason it got d-destroyed, so nothing. B-besides I used some spares from Mettaton."

A pair of familiar looking legs sprout out from the back of the wheelbarrow. You stare at them without blinking.

"Are you f-feeling well?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, this is just..." You breathe in through clenched teeth. "I didn't see it coming, let's leave it at that."

"did it get a leg up on you?"

You shoot a look at Sans. "I know that you're talking about the wheelbarrow, but I'm not gonna acknowledge that joke."

"got off on the wrong foot? why don't you just have a seat? kick your legs up?"

His arms invite you to the wheelbarrow and it bounces in excitement.

"Why is it happy?" you ask.

"W-what?"

"Why is my wheelbarrow happy?" you ask again.

"I didn't have t-time to make another c-chip so I used an old one."

"Does it know that it is happy?"

"N-no, just a response."

You breathe out. "Good, last thing I want is to wake up in the middle of the night to comfort it if I don't find a use for it," you explain as you hop closer to the wheelbarrow.

"you don't want it barrowing through your heart?"

You feel a smile form. "You've missed me, Sans, glad to hear that."

"yes, but my aim is getting better."

The purple legs bend down so that you can easily climb in, and you try and seat yourself as comfortable as you can. The edge presses against the fold of your knees, so it's not the most comfortable of seats. "So, what now?"

"You can either use manual st-teering or voice commands. It s-should only respond to your voice," Alphys explains.

"Like what? Get me to work?"

You can feel the last sentence slip off your tongue and you fail to catch it. The wheelbarrow stands up and starts running, leaving Alphys screaming, and Sans standing. You yell for it to stop, and luckily it does so. You exhale your shock. "Alphys, how do I switch to manual mode?"

"S-switch on the back."

"just like on everything alphys makes," Sans remarks.

She gives Sans a look, but he shrugs it off.

"Bring me my crutches will you?" you ask as you carefully climb off.

"it doesn't have any hands," Sans reminds you.

"Then can you be so kind and bring them instead, Sans?"

"you don't want alphys to tinker a bit with them," Sans whispers to you as he comes close.

You look over to Alphys. She's packing up her tools, and shake your head.

"Wheelbarrow, go back to the shed," you command your gardening equipment.

It positions itself beside Alphys. She closes the shed door behind her and walks over to you.

You lift your eyebrows. "I don't think that I'm ever going to get used to talking with it."

She squeezes her tail in response. "I thought that you would like it, so that you didn't have t-to use your h-hands."

"Don't get me wrong, I think it is cool, but having a discussion with your tools is not really familiar to us humans. I'll use it when I shop for groceries later."

Alphys releases her tail with a relieved exhale."Good."

"Shall we go inside and maybe start with some lunch?"

"ALREADY ON IT!" you hear Papyrus shout through the kitchen window.

Your heart sinks as you enter and see a bundle of noodles resting against the edge of your cooking pot.

"I BOUGHT YOU SOME SPAGHETTI, HUMAN! TO CELEBRATE THIS DAY!"

You walk over to him and lower the heat. "You'll boil away the water otherwise."

"THANK YOU!"

"No problem. Where's the tomato sauce?"

"IN THE OVEN!"

You open the oven and see two bulging cans of tomato sauce. They're shaking. Violently.

"Papyrus, get those out of there! Throw them out the window!" you scream at Papyrus.

"YOUR HUMAN COOKING IS VERY STRANGE!" he says as he bends down.

The cans land in the grass and bursts open just a second later. You inspect your red lawn with tomato corpses strewn across it. "Why didn't you open the cans?"

"THE RECIPE DIDN'T SAY THAT I NEEDED TO!"

"Did you buy any extra cans?"

"NOPE!"

You look at the mess in your yard, but you shake your head at the idea.

"We got anything else we can use?"

You hear a quiet laugh from the dining room.

"HM, I DID BUY A BUNCH OF TOMATOES FOR THE TOMATO PIE I PLANNED FOR DESSERT!"

You pick up another pan and put it on the stove. "Looks like they're gonna be used for the main course now. First we need to-"

A blue spear emerges between you and Papyrus.

"Crush them? Massacre them?" Undyne asks with too much excitement.

"Guess you're on that. Papyrus, bring me olive oil and some spices. Maybe some meat as well."

A hand tugs your shirt and you look down to see Frisk and Alphys looking up at you.

"Why don't you start making the table?" you suggest.

You raise your voice so that Sans can hear it over Undyne's maniacal laughter. "Sans can help since I'm pretty sure he's using the table cloth as a blanket."

"you don't know that," he retorts.

"Then why don't you look for it?"

"found it!" he exclaims in triumph.

"Was it on you?" you guess.

"you sure you don't know magic?"

You wave your crutches in the air. "Wouldn't be hopping around on these if I did."

A wet finger bumps your shoulder and stains it red. "The tomatoes are dead."

"How dead?"

Undyne grins. "Very."

"In the pot?"

"Their final resting place."

"Excellent. Pap, you found any meat?"

"DID YOU EAT THE MEAT IN YOUR BAG?" he asks with his head in your fridge.

"No, why would there be any?"

He leaves for a minute and comes back with two hands full of meat.

"Was that in my bag?"

"YES!"

He washes the fabric off it and places it in a pan. You turn the heat down again for him.

"Any reason?"

"YES!"

"A good reason?"

"ALWAYS!"

His concentration is fully on the meat. He bends down and inspects it and with a careful hand he applies spices to it.

"Add a bit of oil," you suggest. "Will I be happy to hear the reason?"

He holds out a mitten and you give him the bottle of oil. It tilts too far and you push it down on the back of it to prevent the meat from drowning. You open your mouth to ask him again, but Sans gives your side a careful elbow. "don't bother, my bro is in his zone. all he knows now is cooking."

"Meat, in my bag," you remind him.

"he probably had good intentions. i know my bro, he didn't mean anything mean."

You look at Papyrus squatting down to inspect his art.

"I guess that there's not much that can go wrong now with the cooking. Shall I leave him to it?"

"maybe give the noodles a stir before we go."

You twirl them around a bit and leave a hunched over Papyrus to his craft.

He enters the dining hall a couple of minutes with the biggest grin.

"Wow, Pap, the food smells...good. Did you make it?" Undyne asks with a confused look on her face.

"YES, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAS DONE IT AGAIN! I'VE PROVIDED MY FRIENDS WITH DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI!"

He serves the table before taking a seat for himself.

You take a bit and actually enjoy it. "Yeah, it's very good, Pap."

You can see the pride in his eyes.

"Y-yeah, tasty," Alphys adds as well.

Frisk gives Papyrus an approving thumb.

With eyes on the verge of bursting with glee Papyrus looks at his brother.

Sans dries off his mouth with an already stained arm and holds out his plate to Papyrus, "more please, bro."

Papyrus' squeal cuts your eardrums like a knife, but you can only smile at his happiness.

"THIS IS THE BEST DAY IN MY LIFE!"

You hold out your empty plate to him as well. "More for me as well."

The rest of the table follows Sans' example, and Papyrus' smile gives his cheeks a run for their money. His smile stays for the rest of the meal and throughout the dishes.

"HUMAN, I WILL FOREVER REMEMBER THIS DAY!"

"Me too, you're improving."

As he jumps out to his car to bring the rest home he can't stop beaming with joy.

Sans lingers at the door as the others hurry to get the best seat in Papyrus' car. "thank you, hopefully this will not be a one time edible meal."

"Compared to what you've done while I was, gone, this is nothing. Better friends exists only in legend." You give him a pat on his back. "Take care, skelebro."

He nods and walks to the car. You close the door behind him. The sound of your crutches fills the silent house, but the sound is different now. You spot the librabrian's book sticking out of a bag. It smells faintly of meat. It sits comfortably in your armpit as you hop towards the patio. You manage to flip open a chair with just one hand and you praise yourself for the action. You sit down and open the book.

"Chapter 10: The ugly human returns."

You find yourself excited to read it. Strange.


	25. A letter made of lead

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror with a bottle of skin cream in your hand. With another sigh you squeeze out the last drop and turn your shoulder. A big stripe of young skin covers your side, one of Flowey's attacks. Feeling scar tissue and skin at the same time as you apply the moisturizer is something you don't think you can become familiar with. You toss the bottle on the pile of its empty brethren and flex your arm. At least you're regaining some weight. You grab your crutches. You're not leaning that much on them, but you still feel that you need the support..

You prepare some breakfast and eat it in the morning sun. It will be a bit annoying for today's lesson, but you're still happy to have it in your face. To hear birds chirping, breathe fresh air again, and feeling a light tan form on your skin. It's good to be back home. You almost doze off in the warmth, but you catch yourself just in time. The clock on your kitchen wall tells a different story though. You're already late! How are you going to get there in time now? You'd need an extra pair of legs.

Wait...

You laugh at the idea, peek out of your patio door, and call for it.

"Destination reached," your wheelbarrow informs as it trundles to a stop on the Town Hall's parking lot.

You remove your arm from your eyes and blink to readjust them to the sunlight. The wheelbarrow bends down and you step out of it. You mount your backpack and take your crutches. Your vehicle walks to a parking space and squats down.

"How about you lean yourself on the wall instead? Tuck your legs in while you're at it," you ask it.

It obeys your command and disguises itself as a normal wheelbarrow, with flashing lights. You awkwardly tuck a crutch under your arm as you reach for the door handle. It opens from the other side and you almost fall over.

"Yo, the teacher is back!" you hear MK shout with the handle in his mouth.

A field of necks tilt upwards and smiles erupts on every face.

"Who's ready for some science?" you ask them.

They all cheer and make clouds with their mouths. You smile with them and make a cloud of your own.

"Welcome back, my child," Toriel wishes from the back of the group.

"Say, would you like to see the headmaster make a cloud?" you ask your students.

They turn their heads toward Toriel. She's taken back by your proposal. "Oh, a cloud? How do you make one?"

"Good question! Kids, how does the cloud form in your mouth?"

"Clouds form when there's cold or pressure," answers one.

"Yeah, you need to close your mouth and blow on your lips," continues another.

"And why does the cloud form?" you ask.

"Because you push the water together so that it becomes a clump."

"Wouldn't that make a big drop?" questions Toriel.

"Will only happen if you have a mouthful of water," you expand.

"Oh, I see. Fascinating."

"But enough stalling, let's see that vapor."

She closes her mouth and her face starts to vibrate. She holds it in for a long while before releasing. The cloud sails up towards the ceiling and crashes on it before disappearing. The kids go wild in awe! "Was that good?" she wonders with a blushing face.

"Biggest one I've ever seen," you congratulate.

"Thank you," she says and bows. She then scurries the kids outside for their recess. "So you can prepare your lesson in peace. I'll look after them in the meanwhile," she smiles to you as the last kid is outside. You nod and enter the classroom.

A bell rings after a while, and soon your classroom is filled with whispers. Toriel wishes you good luck, but you halt her at the door. The whispers stop. "Stay, I think you're gonna like this," you tease.

Toriel closes the door. "You sound very confident." Her voice is filled with anticipation. "What is it you have planned?"

You ask her to dim the light and a couple of kids to close the blinds. The room goes dark. You didn't really plan for it to be this dark and you fumble for the on switch on the projector you have prepared. White light illuminates the wall behind you and you lower a screen. You pick up a remote. "Life!" you answer dramatically. You push a button on the remote and a spinning picture of a helix appears on the screen. "This, this is DNA. This is what I'm made of, what Frisk is made of, what all life is made of. This is what we humans thought, this was our truth, until you came. You are also life, but you're not made of DNA, you're made of magic."

They all pat themselves while you jump to the next slide.

"So today, I'm going to teach you how I'm made. You've already learned what you're made of, right? With Alphys?"

Toriel nods.

"So why not learn a bit about the life around you now, on the Surface?"

You flick to the next slide showing a green cell. "This is a plant cell. They're different from animal cells." A red cell materializes besides it. "The life based on DNA can be categorized into two kingdoms, the animal kingdom and the plant kingdom."

"Because of the cells?" a monster asks.

"Exactly."

"Do they have a queen and a king?"

You smile at the question. "Not really, we just call them kingdoms. Anyway, inside the cell's center there's a warehouse filled with DNA. The DNA contains all the information that makes up the cell and the life it forms. From the DNA, the cell builds thousands of proteins that perform different functions. We're are made of millions of these, and they all live on their own. Like a community they work together to make life."

"How does magic work then?" another monster asks.

"That I don't know since there's not been a lot of studying of magic since we humans don't use it anymore."

"Sometimes magic gets weird, bad things happen," another monster adds.

"The same can happen with DNA, it can be damaged and that can cause the cell to break down. It can also become hostile towards the life."

The classroom door is opened and the light is switched back on. You see a group of people in suits standing in the doorway.

"Speaking of hostile," you say in your head.

"Please, continue with the lesson." The suits motion for you to continue. "We don't want to disturb, just spectate."

"Is that why you switched on the light?" You beckon for the door. "Leave, I'll teach you this in private later."

"Can't, we have a strict schedule. We'll move to the back of the class if you feel that we're in the way."

The suits shuffle past Toriel, ignoring her stern gaze, and position themselves at the back wall. They look around for any vacant chairs. They spot a stack next to you, but you quickly ask Toriel to turn off the lights again.

"Sorry, need to continue the class. Got lots to get through, right, Toriel?"

Despite the darkness you see her nod.

"Now, where was I?" You look towards the back of the room. "Oh yeah, cancer. Sometimes the DNA can get corrupted. It can start acting strange, and maybe even harm the life. The easiest way is to remove the harmful cells, but that can be tricky. It's nothing we usually want in our life. I guess you have something similar?"

Toriel nods.

"Teacher, I saw a very tiny human when Papyrus drove us here. What are they called?" another monster child asks.

"Babies," you answer.

"How are they made?"

"Babies get their DNA from both their mother and their father. Half from one and the other half from the other," you explains as innocent as possible.

Another small hand is raised. "How do the babies get the DNA?"

You shift your eyes to Toriel but she shakes her head. "Um, when a mother gets, uh," you try to explain.

"Just like how you were made. Your mother and father love each other, and decide to share their magic together, creating you. We humans do something similar, but we share DNA instead of magic." The explanation comes from the back of the room. "Strict schedule. You looked like you needed some help, teacher."

Toriel and you look at each other confused. "Yes, thank you. Moving on," you nod.

You spend the remaining of the time talking about how cells reproduce and the difference between animal and plant.

Toriel flicks the light back on when you end the lesson.

"Pages thirty to thirty five is your homework. See you tomorrow!" you finish.

The kids wave goodbye and head for the door with Toriel leading them. You sit down and start with some paperwork. You don't notice Frisk walking up to you to give you an apple.

"Oh, thank you, Frisk."

They open their mouth, but are pushed away by a suit. "Go out and play, the grown ups need to talk a bit."

"Just talk?" you retort with a raised eyebrow.

"Just talk. Alone." The suit nods to her group, and they leave. The suit remaining takes a seat on the other side of your desk. "I said alone, that includes you too, kid."

Frisk emerges from the side of your desk.

"Wait with Toriel," you say with a forced smile.

Frisk gives the suit a look and then exits the classroom.

"Cute kid. Yours?" the suit asks.

You cock your head. "Hilarious. What do you want?"

"You've any idea how the monsters came in possession of it?" she asks again as she reaches into their suit.

"Not a clue." You clamp your hands together. "Anything else?"

You're handed a letter. You take it and flip it around. "What's this?"

"Court order, delivered with less spit this time."

"Not without my lawyer. I refuse." you inform and throw the letter on the desk.

The suit looks at their watch, and dial up a number on her phone.

"Could you get the lawyer on the line?" she asks.

You hear some motion through the phone.

"Hello?"

Its your lawyer.

"Hi there, were you just handed a letter? A court order?"

"Yes, but-"

The suit ends the call.

"You are summoned to a trial to discuss and decide legislation regarding the monster's political power and citizenship."

You pick up the letter again.

"Since you've been socializing with them you are to act as a witness to their personalities and actions. You are also forbidden from any further interaction with them until the trial is over."

"What!" you exclaim.

"Since you're acting as our witness you are free to walk around us humans. Compensation for lost work will be handled after the case is closed." The suit relaxes her pose. "Finally, I hate that talk." She leans over your desk. "Listen, we just want to make sure that their relocation to the surface goes smoothly. We don't want another incident. You have to understand that."

You scratch a scar on your arm. "Of course I do, but banning me from seeing them?"

"We don't want to have an unfair trial as it would reflect badly on both sides. You will of course not see or hear anything from us until the trial. See it as a vacation, to recharge your batteries."

You narrow your eyes. "Am I free?"

"To walk around and continue with a normal life, yes. No monsters though, and no magic as well."

"Science?"

"Science is not magic, you of all people should know since you're teaching it that way. You're free to come up with a new type of medicine if you'd like," the suit suggests with a smile.

You flip the letter between your fingers.

"Do you understand everything? Is anything muddy?" The suit reaches into their suit again. "If not, then please sign here."

A piece of paper is brought before you.

"If you don't understand you'll have to be placed in custody. If you understand the terms you are free to go to the moon for all we care. You just need to be present at the trial."

You grab a pen and sign your name. The lesser of two evils, you feel.

They suit rolls up the signed document and places it inside her suit. "We don't mean you or the monsters any harm. We are just doing our job, to ensure the safety of our people. Monsters are back, they've escaped from a prison that was erected by us, and they possess powers we're not capable of wielding. There's also the case of the missing children. We need to sort out that situation at the very least."

The suit scans your face, and sees that you're not convinced. "Listen, I want to have a soda with them as much as you do. You are our greatest asset, but you're also their greatest asset. They have a connection with the humans through you, and we have a connection with the monsters through you. We made it a priority to have you on our side, humanity's side, and luckily we got you before they did. Just avoid any contact with them until after the trial, and I'll treat you and the female goat to lunch. Sounds good?"

You let the question hang for a bit before nodding.

"Great, see you in two weeks then."

"Wait, before you go. How did you know about the monsters reproduction?"

The suit sits down again. "I didn't, still don't. When you have kids of your own you'll learn how to explain things like you know them. You know how to explain things that you do know. You're a good teacher, hopefully you'll spend your free time whipping up something good for your pupils when you return."

The suit stands up and extends her hand. You lean on a crutch and take it.

"Enjoy your vacation," she wishes warmly.

She leaves, and you lean back in your chair while examining the paper you've been given. It's heavy.

Toriel enters after a minute. You halt her at the doorway.

"What's the matter?" she asks with worry on her face.

You stretch yourself and hand her the paper. She places a hand over her mouth as she reads it.

You lean back in your chair again. "Guess you have to ask Alphys to fill in for me tomorrow."

Toriel reads through the letter again. "But, why would they do this? We just want to get back to our real home, not start another war. We just want to live together, us monsters and you humans."

You look at the scar on your other arm. "All monsters?" you ask her.

"Yes, we all want to get back to living with you, together, in peace. We-" Toriel sees you examining your scars. "He's not one of us," she shouts. "He's pure evil. Nothing good has ever come of him."

"Didn't he break the barrier? With the help of the seven human souls?"

You don't get an answer.

"How did he get the human souls? Did they fall down?"

Toriel looks away.

"Toriel, did you hold the humans hostage?"

"No, I protected them from Asgore," she says with a raised voice. She fails to catch her words and tears form in her eyes.

The paper falls gently on the ground as Toriel closes the door behind her. You hop over to it, struggling to pick it up. You read it through again. A thought forms in the back of your head. You didn't want to admit it before, but the evidence just ran out the door.

Flowey was right.

So you pack your things. You notice the apple Frisk left. After some debating in your head you take it with you.

A whistle calls for you as you step outside. "Need a ride home? I'm afraid I can't let the skeleton drive you home. Though it pains me to say it, his car is off limits as well."

You look over to your own vehicle. "You got space for my wheelbarrow?"

"Is it repaired? By the monsters?" the suit asks as she helps you roll it towards their car.

"They only trimmed it a bit, increased its capacity and speed," you lie.

"With magic?"

"A better battery and a more efficient engine."

"No magic?" she asks again.

You shake your head. "No magic."

She concludes with a shrug, "Well, you signed the document," and help you lift it in the trunk of the car. When she closes the door she spots a foot hanging under the handle of your wheelbarrow. You twist your tongue trying to come up with an explanation.

"Looks like they also put in a more comfortable handle," she says with a wink.

"Yeah, sure. Thank you."

The suit rounds the car to the driver's side, and you seat yourself on the passenger side.

"I'm just doing my job, and my job description is protecting this country," she explains as she pulls out from the parking lot.

"Yes, I understand that." You look out the window. "Still."

"Yeah, I know. I take no joy in being the bad guy, trust me."

You sigh. "I want to."

"You've not had much human contact these past weeks?"

"No, not really."

You see Papyrus' car pass you by.

"This trial is going to be held behind closed doors, with both human and monster juries."

You tilt your head towards them. "I know, I read it."

"What I'm saying is," she tries explain with her hand out towards you, "that perhaps you should balance out your connections? Seek out some humans to befriend, make the trial as fair as possible. It is going to decide the future of our coexistence." The suit gives you a smile. "No pressure."

You look out the window again to try and process everything.

After a while the suit drops you off outside your house. You wave her away, and wait a minute before you command your wheelbarrow to get back in its shed. With your head heavy with thoughts you make lunch and sit yourself outside on the patio. A breeze passes you by, and you reach into you pocket. You hand the paper to the space beside you. A hand grabs it.

"No more ketchup for you for a while, sorry," you say to the empty air in front of you.

You're handed back the letter with a note stuck on it. It almost flies away as a gust of air tucks it.

"This note is not written to anyone in particular, and is in no way associated with any form of interaction. I just want to say that we're not holding anything against whoever reads this note, whatever they decide to do. Whoever reads this will be missed if things go bad, and will also be welcomed back if they decide to. Whoever reads this should also buy more ketchup."

It appears that word travels quick. You fold the note in half and place it in your shirt pocket before finishing your meal. You read through the court order again and decide that you need some legal advice.

The iron gate squeaks as you open it. You look around to make sure that you're alone, and walk up to your family.

"Hi again. Better late than never?" You take a seat on a nearby bench. "Sorry for not visiting for a while."

You listen for something, but no one comes.

"I'm going to trial. Don't worry, it's nothing illegal that I've done. I should probably start at the beginning. Monsters are real! I found them on our plateau, in a cave. Crazy, huh?"

Still nothing.

"I was offered a job, as a teacher. The kids love my lessons," you laugh, "but I think I might have overdone it with the mouth clouds." You shrug your shoulders. "Eh, it is cute, and the kids like it, so no harm done, right?"

You feel your smile fade away, and you lean down on your knuckles.

"The monsters, they're, were, not good people. They've done some horrid things, but they've not showed anything here. They've talked about a new chapter, but still."

You feel your thoughts overwhelm you.

"I don't know what to do. I'm about to decide if they should live here, with us. But they've killed kids. They wouldn't hurt a fly up here, but down there? One almost killed me! Can I forgive them for that?"

Your head disappears into your hands and you let it sulk there until you hear gravel being trampled on. You shoot up and dry your face.

"We here to respect the dead?" you hear the man ask.

"You think my family's curse is going to spread to the other graves if I continue?"

You hear him walk closer to you. "With monsters walking the Surface, bringing magic back from the Underground, you'd have to be a fool not to think that something is about to go amiss." The man stops beside you. "Mind if I sit down?"

You scratch your nose. "It's your graveyard."

The pastor seats himself on the other side of the bench. "My child, please listen."

"Why should I? Wouldn't I melt from the holiness of your words as the cursed being that I am?"

He puts a hand on your shoulder. "You're upset."

You pick it up and throw it back at him. "Of course I'm upset! I wouldn't come here if I weren't. Don't pour salt in my wounds, please. Not again." You massage your forehead.

"If you think that I'm going to forgive your parents for what they did," the pastor says quietly.

"Ha!" you laugh. "You act surprised that monsters walk the earth despite seeing one in the mirror every day?" You stand up, and wobble a bit before taking strain on one of your crutches. "What do you want? Leave me alone."

The pastor walks in front of you. "Don't think that I don't weep for your parents. I weep for all that I have under my wings. I won't forgive them, but I will mourn their deaths."

You look down. "I don't know if I can apologize either," you pick up your other crutch, "but I appreciate it, father."

He catches your eyes. "I also weep for those that are not in my garden. Especially the kids that lie below us."

"What makes you think that they died in the Underground?"

"Don't be naive. I'm very familiar with the legends. Despite them being only that they still hold cultural value to us."

"So, you know why we went to war?"

He shakes his head. "No, there's not a single book containing anything about the Barrier and the war."

"So the only ones that would know are?"

"The monsters, yes."

You pinch your nose.

The pastor steps out of your way. "They have that name for a reason, don't forget that. Don't let the poor children's deaths go unpunished, that is all I ask of you."

"After all you've said to me and my family?" you scoff out. "You think that you're in any position to make demands?"

The pastor lifts up his shirt to reveal a huge scar going across his back. It looks like yours, the same clean cut and width. He sees your reaction, and releases his grip from his frock. "Some legends are true and some turn to dust. Keep that in mind, my child."

You scramble for your crutches and hop for the exit. The iron gate squeaks as you close it. You look back and see the pastor kneeling before your family. A wind disturbs a nearby aspen. They wish you good luck.


	26. Tales of the past

"You! I need to talk with you!"

Your voice barely eclipses the sound of the construction around you, but you manage to get the ear of the builder.

He smiles as he see you, and playfully shoos away a colleague as he walks up to you. "I heard you fell ill. Glad to see you back on your feet. What's on your mind?"

You point a crutch at him. "You lied to me!"

"What?" he asks with an uneasy pose.

"The monster that attacked! That wasn't a hundred years ago, it was recent."

He turns around and walks away.

"Stop! I need to know!" you shout after him.

A truck rolls inside from the street, and you sneak in behind it. Next to you is a sign that informs to always wear a helmet. You manage to find one, but it's a size too big for you. You still wear it, and take after the builder with quick skips. He walks inside a temporary building. You follow him only to be greeted by a locked door. No! That won't stop you! You bang your fist against it.

"I know that you lied! I want the truth, it's important. How long ago was it?" You take a step back. "Was I even alive back then?"

The construction around you starts to wear on your ears, but the door is opened after a minute.

"If your father was alive now he'd have my head." The builder waves you inside. "That's on him though. He should have thought about my promise before he had a kid that's just like him."

You walk inside. "Dad's dead, and you have a chance to help his kid. He probably didn't mean it literally." The builder closes the door behind you. "Please," you beg, "the future of the humans and the monsters hangs on this."

You're invited to a chair and you gladly accept it only to get rid of your crutches for some time. The builder seats himself on the other side and takes off his helmet. You do the same. His chair moans as he leans back in deep thought. Another minute passes before he starts.

"It wasn't really a village, it was more of a small summer home community. Ten households, max. How long was it now? Ten or fifteen years ago I was working on maintaining a water fountain there when a monster came, carrying a child." The builder massage his face. "I can still hear its sobs. It cried for someone, maybe its mother, just like a child would. It attacked me when I approached it." His breathing becomes heavy. "I, I thought I would die! I saw my chest slashed wide open. Like a fish, the monster gutted me. I...just give me a minute."

You roll up your arm to remind yourself. "I know, take your time. Just tell me the truth, I don't care how long it takes," you ensure him.

"No, it's OK. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Y-yeah." The builder takes a deep breath. "So, the monster retreated through a cloud with the kid as the people around me attacked it. I lay there, crying for my wife and kids." He pauses. You let him. "The people ran to me, some threw up right there on the spot, and some tried to call for an ambulance. I heard yelling! The pastor was screaming at your mother. Your father came up to me, he..." The builder flexes his hands. "He healed me."

You look in his eyes to find anything that would indicate that he's lying again. You don't find anything.

"He, he healed you?" You don't believe your own words. "With magic? Dad?"

"Yes, I stood up not a minute after. I couldn't believe what he had done. After the shock I turned around to thank him, but I couldn't find him."

You lean forward. "Where did he go?"

He looks deep into your eyes. "To you."

"Me?"

"Yes, something was glowing inside the smoke. I could only see the silhouette of your father on his knees. He was holding the glow, trying to push it down back into you, but a piece broke off and vanished in the smoke." The builder mimics the movements. "He reached for it, but he couldn't grab it. The pain it caused him, you could see it, even through the thick smoke. I've not heard so much sorrow in a voice before he collapsed, exhausted. From healing me or losing a piece of the glow, I don't know. Perhaps both. It was only then that I noticed that the ground had turned dark. It was drained, like someone vacuumed up all the life and happiness out of it. Was it because he healed me? Did he sacrifice the land to save me? To save you?"

"But, I don't remember that! We left that place because we couldn't afford the house anymore."

"You were in the hospital for a while after. Tree climbing accident I think they said it was."

You jump out our of your seat and fall down when your legs cave underneath you. "How do you know that?" you burst out in panic. Your eyes shoot wide open in realization. "They, they lied to me."

The worker runs over to you and helps you back in your seat. "They just wanted to protect you. Don't be mad at them."

You bury your hands in your hair. "I need a minute."

"Of course."

You sit and ponder. Dad knew magic? Who was the kid? Someone you knew? The monster, did it attack you? Have you almost died twice to them?

The door opens and a man with a clipboard enters. He looks at you. "Who's this?" the man asks the builder.

"Kid of a friend of mine," the builder answers. "I'm just doing a little interview with them."

You wave.

"Oh, I just wanted to inform you that you have some guests that want to speak with you."

The builder nods. "I'll come to you after the interview."

"I'll tell them to wait in my office then."

The foreman leaves and the sound of heavy machinery becomes muffled again.

"Wait, why isn't this common knowledge?" you start again after a minute.

"Luckily it was only yours and two other families that were there at the time of the attack. Yours was the only that stayed near Mt. Ebott because of your money situation. The rest have moved far away, probably to forget. We had a discussion when your father came back from the hospital, and we concluded that it was better not to speak of it. Maybe we made the wrong decision? We were still shocked by the monster, your dad healing me, and the magic. It was the pastor's word that sealed the deal though. Before we all left your father took me to the side since he knew that I also had family in this town. He looked me in the eyes, his were weak. I could also feel that his hand was heavy. He made me promise again to never say anything, not even to his kids."

The builder scoffs and looks up. "Sorry, pal. Your kid is as persuasive as you were!" He returns his eyes to you. "Seems like monsters can't kill them though, no matter how hard they try."

"Mom, what did she do?"

"She argued with the pastor. He called your family cursed, said that he warned them. He then collapsed, the monster managed to lay a claw on him. She bandaged him up while the others took care of you and your dad."

"What was the pastor's excuse for his wounds?"

"He went up to the tree to get you, but you both fell."

"And they bought it?"

The builder shrugs his shoulders. "Seems like it."

"This, this is too much!" You shake your head in disbelief. "I don't know what to make of this."

"You tell me, I've been debating that for over a decade now."

"You've come to any conclusion?"

"Only that your father saved me and you from dying. He's a hero, but we can't call him that."

"But, he used magic."

A thick hand is smashed against the table and it bends because of the impact. "Magic or not, I don't care! Even if he was a monster in disguise! I don't care if he was cursed or not. He saved my kids from growing up without a father, and that is all that matters!" The builder takes a deep breath and caresses his hand. "This trial is going to be a nightmare."

"You know about it?" You throw your hands up. "Does anyone not know about it?"

The door is flung open and a woman darts her eyes around the room. "I heard a loud crash and I thought-"

"No, no, sorry," the builder apologizes with a smile. "I was just showing them what would happen if you don't wear your helmet."

You show off your helmet. The woman nods and closes the door.

The builder pats the table. "Dammit, we just got this table," he sighs. "Gonna be difficult explaining this to the boss."

"The trial?" you remind him.

"I was present during the attack and they figured it out somehow. I've been asked to talk about the attack. They probably want to see me break down in the court room. Shock effect."

"Who do you mean by them?"

He gives you a weak smile and a shrug. "The monsters."

You run your hand through your hair again and sigh through your lips. "This is going to be big."

"Trial of the century, with you and I at the center."

Your eyes widen in realization. "You have to talk about how my dad healed you, right?"

He sighs deeply. "I have to look out for myself and my family."

"No, it's OK, I understand. Just see if you can avoid talking about me."

The builder nods. "I'll do everything I can," he promises. "I still owe your dad."

"Thank you." You hang your head for a bit before you scoff. "Doesn't this count as interaction?"

"Hey, you came to me. Besides, we're doing an interview."

"No hard feelings after the trial?"

"You'll have none from me. I can still see your dad in you, and I can't allow myself to be mad at him." The builder looks at the clock. "You should probably go before they start looking for me and find you talking with me."

You stand up. "Thank you, for everything."

He looks up again. "See this as a down payment on my debt."

"Debt?" you ask with your hand on the door handle.

"I'm just joking with him." You can see tears building up in the builder's eyes. "I think he appreciates it."

You nod, and exit the building.

The construction seems to have halted a bit and you look around. You see ML and Asgore walking around with the foreman. Shit! You need to hide! Get out of the site unnoticed, but how? You realize that you're still holding the helmet and put it on before you stand out at a glance. A nearby clipboard lays without an owner and you pick it up. You have to disguise your crutches somehow! Numbers and lines are written on the paper and you fail to understand their meaning. A finger taps your shoulder and a voice greets you with another paper over it. You take it and nod. The voice waits for a bit before tapping you once again on the shoulder.

"You're not gonna transfer the calculations?" he asks.

You mask your voice. "Yeah, sure, give me a second."

You skim through the calculations and write a number that sounds reasonable on the clipboard before you hand it the paper back over your shoulder. He rips the paper and hands back the clipboard. You nod and walk away with your crutches. Luckily you manage to slip through the construction without anyone else bothering you on the way out. At the exit you see the foreman receiving the paper you've just doodled on. He hands it to Asgore who puts it inside his robe. You quickly move out of sight.

"Barrow, are you fully charged?" you shout out your kitchen window. It runs into view and bounces eagerly. You finish packing the provisions and seat yourself in it. "To the plateau up Mt. Ebott! Use Papyrus' road."

It starts moving and you lean back to think. Is this really a good idea? Maybe? What's the worst that can happen, after all? The place is abandoned. That much you could remember yourself. The builder did say something about the ground being drained. It feels familiar, but you can't put your finger on it. Perhaps when you can literally put a finger on it you'll remember.

A short while later you're up on the mountain again. Your town still looks as blissfully unaware of the past weeks happenings as ever. You round the side of the mountain and halt your vehicle. The faintest outline of something man made can be seen in the distance, but there's so much vegetation around it that you can only guess.

"Need to get a bit closer," you say in thought.

The wheelbarrow takes another step, over the edge. You scramble to get a grip and lock your hands on the handles behind you. Stones and trees pass your screams in quick succession, way too quick for your taste. Despite the speed, the metallic legs steer you to safety, and you glide to a halt at the foot of the mountain. Your heavy breathing echoes through the forest around you for a minute before you continue.

The wall of trees open up, and you find yourself looking at the back of some houses. They're weathered, abandoned. Must be the place. As you enter the area you feel thirst building up, and you turn around for your provisions. As you do, you accidentally brush up against some ivy, causing it to fall over and crack when it hits the ground.

You look around and notice that the area inside the ring of houses is flat. No grass. No flowers. Instead it is sickly gray, withered, and tired. Your hand comes in contact with something when you reach into your backpack. Something wrong. You lift it up by its stem and see that the apple Frisk gave you has turned rotten. You take another look in your bag and see that the rest of your food is also spoiled. The water smells fine though, but it tastes a bit different.

You dismount and start looking around the houses, searching for yours. A rusted letterbox spells your last name in a beautiful font. You give the handle a tug, but it doesn't budge. You whistle and ask your wheelbarrow to kick the door in. It turns around and plants a powerful foot at the lock. The door bursts open with splinters bouncing off the opposite wall inside. A thick layer of dust is present on the floor like a mist, so you pull up your shirt over your mouth before you enter.

The empty rooms where you and your siblings played in is now dust ridden and desolate. You feel that you should hurry up before your emotions get the better of you. There's not much left in the house, your parents took it all with them when you moved out. Nothing helps you remember, nothing helps you connect to that day.

You decide to enter your parents bedroom despite your gut feeling screaming at you not to. Inside you spot something on their night stand. You brush off the layers of old covering it. Heavy tears makes holes in the dust at your feet and wobbly knees makes you sit down on the bed. A huge cloud of dust form around you. You press the photo frame against your heart and cover your eyes with the other hand.

The dust settles on and around you before you regain the strength to stand up again. You flip the photo frame over and remove the photograph inside it. You can see your whole family in it. Something's wrong with it though. A piece of it has been teared off next to you in the picture. Perhaps it was to make it fit into the frame? The photo fits nicely into your pocket, and you leave the house.

You shake off the dust outside and dry off your face. With a narrowing brow you look over the withered yard and notice that it becomes darker as it gets closer to the center of the village. There's a rotten flower patch that lies flat and dead, but there's an outline in it. Human shaped, like a child.

You get closer to get a better look and your breathing becomes heavier. The air feels weird. There's an aura present. You feel your face blossom, but you can't stop! You have to push on, something is driving you forward. It ain't your legs nor is it your crutches. It grows stronger as fatigue takes a hold over you. It fights back, filling you with foreign strength.

The ground becomes looser as you get closer to the withered flowers, but you fight against it. The crutches gets stuck in the ground, so you toss them aside. They are just in your way now, you don't need them. Your cheeks are burning, but you welcome the pain. It drives you. Just a couple more steps, you can do it, you're determined.

With a grin you position yourself over the silhouette in the flowerbed. Weak, you were so weak back then. How could you be defeated by a monster? You're a human, you can squash them underneath your might. It is how why you won over them. The trial is a joke. You humans should demand them to obey you. With a smile you bring up the photograph to your face and see two red dots reflect off the glossy paper.

Good.

You drop the photograph and hunch over in pain. An invisible hand grips your heart, squeezing the strength out of you, "What are you thinking? You wouldn't hurt them! This isn't you," it screams.

The hand tightens its grip and you feel your strength drain from it. Your legs start trembling and you fumble for your crutches. You dropped them, they're out of your reach, so you fall on your knees. With a pair of unstable hands you try to pick up the photograph, but you collapse next to it. Your family is looking at you lying in the flower patch again. You need them, again. You whisper out a weak cry for help, but they're not near, they don't hear you. No one comes. You're alone.

You wake up with a pounding head. Rays of sunlight dance on your face, filtered through the green crowns of the trees around you. You squint to let less light into your aching skull. You have something in your hand, the photograph. You caress it with a finger. Below your head you hear beeping and servos. A pair of feet are trundling along under you.

"Thank you," you say with a tired voice.

You sleep the rest of the way home.

"Destination reached," your wheelbarrow informs.

With one hand on the wheelbarrow you walk inside and dive for the faucet. You drink until your lungs scream for air. You take a deep breath, and drink even more. You then take some leftovers and eat it in a hurry. The cold doesn't bother you. Once the plate is clean you throw it in the sink and breathe out clumsily. What now? A shower, to clear your head?

Yeah, sounds good.

You struggle to get up the stairs. Once inside the bathroom you undress and leave the clothes in a pile on the floor. You flick open the shower and sit down. The cold water hits your neck and back, but you endure it. A moment later the warmth kicks in and you feel your body relax. You look at your hands.

"What's happening to me?"

The question echoes through the bathroom and you lock your hands around your legs as you hear it bounce back. You stay huddled up until you feel like you should probably go to bed and sort this out in the morning. With a swipe you clean off the fog off your mirror and lift up an eyelid to inspect your eye. You can't see anything red.

Good.

You dry yourself off and walk to your bedroom. A thought hits you in the doorway. You haven't brushed your teeth! That worry pales against the temptation of your bed, and you fall down heavily into it. Your eyelids barely touch each other before you fall asleep.

A dreamless night later you wake up when the sun slash across your face. Your mouth is dry and your face is hot. You can't debate yourself now, not like this. Breakfast first, internally discussing magic later. With heavy arms you make some porridge after a uncomfortable walk down to your kitchen. The door knocks, and you lower your head. Dammit.

"Five minutes," you inform the door. The knocks become harder, must be Papyrus, "Pap, I hope Toriel told you that I can't talk with you for a while!" More knocks follow. "Pap, I'm going on a trial. I can't interact with you for a time. I still love you though," you explain as you near the door. The morning's newspaper hangs in the letterbox. A big headline is taking up half the front page.

"Trial today! Monsters versus Humans!" it reads.

You miss the door handle as you read the headline. Today? Wasn't it supposed to be-

The door is opened for you and a man in a suit stands just outside.

"There's been a change of date. The trial will take place today. You got fifteen minutes," he informs you.

You pick up the newspaper and show it to the man. He frowns and asks for it before he closes the door.

"We got a mole. Yeah, today's freebie. Dispatch someone to sniff them out," you hear him say through the door.

A smell catches your nose. The porridge is burnt. Fantastic.


	27. Soul of the law

The man opposite of you puts a finger to the side of his head and bends over. He produces a large piece of black fabric from underneath his seat. "Put this on." he says as he tosses it to you. The sloppy sandwich in your hand stains the fabric as you catch it with your free hand.

"How many outside the court? Is it a big crowd?" you ask from underneath the blanket with your sandwich in your mouth. The car stops and it almost falls out. You hear the door open and a hand is placed on your shoulder.

"Just look down so you don't trip and fall," you hear someone say into your ear with a voice just barely loud enough for you to make it out from the hundreds around you. Camera shutters, people talking about the trial, and intelligible chanting follows you as you make your way up a flight of stairs.

The voices can still be heard from outside the thick door as it is closed behind you. You're lead into a room with just a table and three chairs. With an invitation from the man that escorted you there, you seat yourself in the one that's alone on its side. He knocks on a door opposite of you and makes his way out the one you came from. You roll the fabric up around your hands and wait.

A while later the knocked door is opened and the suit that gave you the letter enters with a man in a different colored suit. You unfold your hands and take their outstretched one.

"You got ID with you?"

You show yours and she nods before giving it back. With two fingers, she indicates to the man next to her. "This is our lawyer."

"Nervous?" the lawyer asks.

"A bit, I don't think I've really grasped what is about to happen," you answer.

"You're gonna be present during the hearing, but you are only to speak when asked to, and only the truth," the lawyer explains.

"Hand on the book?"

"The whole charade," the suit injects.

She gest a look from the lawyer as he lays a document in front of you. "Please sign at the line. The trial is ready to begin, we're only waiting for you."

"It's not my fault. I didn't know that you changed the date," you defend.

"Didn't mean anything towards you, just stating the fact. As will you, I hope," the lawyer clarifies with a nod.

You sign the document and the two of them lead you into the court room.

A pick and mix bag of sounds follows you again as you seat yourself at the front. To your left is a wall filled with different monsters, and to your right is a similar wall but with humans. Both are looking at the other, sizing the other group up.

"Arise for the judges," you hear a security guard yell, silencing the room.

Three humans and three monsters, all with the same hair style, enter the room and seat themselves on the podium that's built for five. One from each group stands up and take each others...limbs? You can see that they're both a bit uncomfortable with the grip between them.

"The court between humans and monsters is now in session. Today we will discuss legislation and the confinements of the resurfacing of the monsters. You have all signed on to tell the truth, and we want nothing else. This trial is not just for you, but for the future of everyone," says the monster judge before sitting down.

"Would the representatives of the monster please arise?" asks a human judge.

You hear chairs complaining. Monster Lawyer and Asgore stand up.

"Why have the defendant summoned this trial?" the judge asks.

"Your honor, the humans have accused us monsters of murdering seven human children, and because of that they threaten legislation to confine the monsters privacy and personal freedom," explains ML.

The judge nods. "How do you plead to the accusations?"

"Not guilty."

"Do you have proof?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, you may sit down. Would the representatives of the humans please arise?" asks a monster judge.

The suit and their lawyer stand up.

"Why have the prosecution summoned this trial?"

"Your honor, the monsters have murdered seven human children, and because of that we feel that it is necessary to take action and pass through legislation to prevent this from happening again," explains the human lawyer.

The monster judge nods. "Do you have proof?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, you may sit down. Will the defendant please bring forth their first witness?"

You see the mayor stepping up to the witness stand. It opens from the side. Good thing you weren't first, you thought it opened from the front.

"Mayor, would you please tell us your first interaction with the monsters and how they came in possession of human property?" Monster Lawyer requests as he walks up.

"I was sitting in my office, working, when my secretary called me on the intercom," the Mayor starts.

"Question," the human lawyer interrupts.

"Granted," informs a human judge.

"What was her reaction?" asks the human lawyer.

"She was nervous, scared. I could hear it in her voice, but I told her to let them in. The door opened and two huge goats entered," the mayor answers.

You can hear Toriel and Asgore shift at the word 'goat'.

"You are aware that they're not goats?" asks ML.

"Yes, of course. I do now, but that was what popped into my head at the time," the mayor clarifies. "They entered and asked if they could sit down."

"Were you intimidated by them?" ML continues.

"I was a bit startled from seeing them, but their demeanor was anything but intimidating. They were polite, well spoken, and explained their situation very elegantly. They told me who and what they were, the monster king and monster queen of the Underground, and asked me if they could talk with me about buying estate and acquiring building permits. A school and a laboratory. They showed me their currency, gold, and I explained to them how they could convert it to human currency. We spoke for a while and after a couple of hours I'd managed to sell them a couple of houses."

"Why in the newly built neighborhood?" ML asks with a bit of flair in his voice.

"Because of an old law regarding nature reservations we couldn't expand the communications network to their neighborhood so the city had to buy the houses. No one was interested in purchasing the estates until the monsters came. They didn't even ask for a lower price."

ML turns to the human jury. "I hope this demonstrates the friendliness and generosity of us monsters. We're not here to compete with you, we're here to live with you. Side by side, like before. I would like to bring the attention to an old human saying that states that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Please keep this in mind." ML turns back towards the witness stand. "The defendant has no more questions."

"Does the opposing party have any questions?" a judge asks the party that brought you here.

"No," the lawyer states after a bit of whispering with the suit.

"Will the prosecutors please bring forth their first witness?" a human judge asks.

The human lawyer nods. "Certainly."

The pastor walks up to the podium with the human lawyer right behind him. "Father, you were the caretaker of Mt. Ebott Orphanage, correct?"

"That is true," the pastor answers.

"How many children have disappeared these last years?"

The pastor's head lowers. "Eight."

"How many are still missing?"

Out of the corner of your eye you can see your friends heads lowering as well. Toriel's gaze is piercing Asgore's neck.

"Seven, seven tiny souls are still missing."

You can see that the answer pains him.

"I know that this is hard for you, father. Please, where were they last seen?" the lawyer asks with his hand over the pastor's.

"Near Mt. Ebott."

The pastor puts his lips to his hands and you can hear his voice. It is filled with grief. He's praying.

"Thank you for sharing, father." The lawyer turns himself towards the monster jury. "If anyone knows anything about the human children please step forward." Not a single movement comes from the stand. "I only want to bring justice to them, nothing more."

ML slams his head on the desk and half the court room jumps.

"Objection!" he shouts out with a red forehead.

"Granted," a human judge answers.

"If you only want justice towards the children then would you be so kindly as to explain the legislation you propose?"

"The legislation can and will be revised further down the line, but right now we have an entire nation full of murder suspects wanting to resurface," the human lawyer snarls. "Since you haven't been prioritizing the slaughtering of human children in your world we have to take up the responsibility." He lifts an accusing finger. "And trust me when I tell you that it is a burden I'm more that willing to have on my shoulders!" The human lawyer turns back to the monster jury. "We can't let potential serial killers live among us unsupervised, even you have to agree on that."

Silence hangs in the air.

"The defendant wants to withdraw their protest," ML finally retreats, reluctantly.

"Noted," a monster judge replies.

The human lawyer tucks back his tie and turns to the judges. "The prosecutor has no more questions for this witness."

A monster lawyer nods, "Does the defendant have any questions?"

ML turns to Asgore, and after a while Asgore turns to you. He looks at you with a pair of conflicted eyes before he sighs deeply and nods to ML.

"Not at the moment," says ML.

"Any reason?" a human judge asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but it's a reason that I can't discuss within earshot of the prosecutor," ML explains.

The human judge calls for a break as they discuss the situation. You're brought some water and a properly made sandwich.

Five minutes later the judges accept the reasoning and resume the hearing. The human lawyer does not protest.

"Will the defendant please bring out their second witness?"

The prime minister seats themselves as ML walks up. "A pleasure to finally speak with you, prime minister," he greets. "Would you please tell the audience about your visit to Queen Toriel's school?"

The Prime Minister smiles and nod. "Absolutely. I was invited to observe a lesson in magic hosted by the monster named Alphys."

"Would the monster named Alphys please stand up?" ML asks.

After some squealing Alphys stands up on wobbly knees. The lawyer smiles at her. "Thank you, Alphys. You can sit down again."

"T-thanks, you too."

Her face turns bright red.

"Please continue, prime minister," ML asks gently.

"I was greeted by Toriel at the entrance of the Town Hall. She presented herself and followed me inside."

You wonder if Toriel addressed them as her child. Probably.

"The classroom was filled with an array of small monsters. Truth be told, I was taken back a bit by the sight. Alphys began her lesson by splitting the class in two groups. One group used their magic to build some kind of target for the other group to destroy. I thought it was very strange at first, but then the destroyers gave advice as how to improve the conjurers construction. This went on until the construction barely held. They cheered for each other, congratulating one another. Then they made clouds with their mouths. Truth be told, that was the strangest part."

You can't stop the smile from appearing on your face.

"I didn't want to interrupt the class so I thought nothing of it. Afterwards they seated themselves in a circle and meditated. It was very beautiful."

"Did you ever feel threatened by their magic?" ML asks with a tilted head.

"Well, I was a bit skeptical about children possessing magic. Heck, even magic in general. But seeing magic being used to teach kids about themselves, it was inspiring."

"Question," the human lawyer says.

"Granted," replies a monster judge.

"Was there only monster children there? No humans?"

The prime minister shakes her head. "No humans."

The human lawyer writes something down in his notebook. "Thank you," he says when he's done.

ML once again turns to the human jury. "Magic might be scary at first sight, and the same can be said for us monsters. But when you open your mind to the possibilities that this opportunity will bring forward you will discover a whole new world. A world that we would like to share with you! To unite and prosper like we did so many years ago. We've been united far longer than we've been separated. Thank you. The defendant has no more questions."

"Does the opposing party have any questions?"

"Yes, can magic be used to manipulate the mind?" the human lawyer asks.

"No, there's magic that can induce thoughts among the monsters, but the effect is at best only temporary. It's frowned upon in our society." ML answers.

The human lawyer taps his pen on his lips. "How temporary?"

"For it to last more than a few seconds it has to be induced over a long continuous period of time. Days, weeks. Our witnesses have alibis covering the days leading up to today."

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just curious," the human lawyer retorts with a smile.

"Pleased to hear that," ML nods.

"The prosecutor has more questions, your honor."

"Will the prosecutor please bring forth their second witness?"

"Our second witness can't be present but we have a recording of them," the human lawyer explains as he taps his bag. He opens it up and picks up a cyan flower. You can see the monsters shift in their seats. "I present to the court, the recording of Flowey, the monster that attacked our third witness. Can a monster please explain to the rest of the humans what this is?"

ML fails to persuade Asgore from standing up. "What you have there is an Echo Flower, it absorbs conversations from its surroundings and it grows in the Underground. Touching its petal releases the stored conversation. The harder the touch the longer the release."

"We took the liberty of fast forwarding to the relevant part," the human lawyer informs to the room.

The lawyer places the flower on the podium and touches the petal.

"The fuck are you doing, Sans?" you hear yourself shout from the flower.

As the flower retells your battle you feel your scars pulse. With every slash you hear the one that formed pulsates in remembrance. You shift yourself in your seat, but you can't shake it off.

The flower makes a mockery of the clothes you wore, and out of the corner of your eye you see Alphys squeezing her tail. You also see Toriel looking at you with caring eyes. She hears your screams as clearly as you do, and you can tell that she's feeling your pain as well. You mutter out a quiet sorry for what's about to come. A second later a child's voice emerges from the Echo Flower.

"No, wait, I'm Asriel. Please don't kill me again, I want to see mom and dad," it says.

Toriel and Asgore freeze. Like the statues in Asgore's garden they can't move. They search the others eyes for support, but they can't find anything. Asgore puts a hand on Toriel's cheek. She leans into it and lets out a weak and silent cry. Asgore says something to her. You can't hear it but you can read his lips., "Stay strong," he asks of her.

"Stop, the defense needs a minute to collect themselves," ML pleads.

The human lawyer lifts his hand from the flower. He seems to be shocked over Asgore and Toriel's reactions. He takes out his wallet and lifts out a small picture. You can see that his lips starts quivering. He looks at it for a while before nodding towards ML. "They can take as much time as they want. Forgive me, I didn't know that they'd lost a child."

He sits back down next to the suit who whispers something to him. He nods weakly before leaning his chin on his knuckles.

Asgore and Toriel look at each other for a minute before Toriel removes Asgore's hand.

"Still trying," you read on her lips.

Asgore takes a deep breath. You hear that it is unstable. "We can continue with the court now."

The human lawyer stands up. "Are you sure?"

Asgore looks at Toriel before nodding. "Yes, please continue."

The lawyer nods with respect and puts his hand on the flower again. Flowey is describing how he felt Asriel's happiness. It pains Asgore and Toriel, cuts them deep. Flowey may be done destroying your body, but he's still destroying their spirits. You can see the same pain you felt in their faces. They twist with every word like yours did with every slash. Anger, sadness, shock. Toriel sobs become heavier, and you lower your head. It hurts more than what Flowey did to you.

You hear yourself argue with Flowey, calling him Asriel, trying to make him remember. He laughs and another voice fills the court. It's Alphys'. It makes fun of her with her stammer.

Undyne conjures a spear in response, but Alphys forces it down. She tries to say something, but she keeps on stammering along with the Echo Flower, and eventually she looks away from Undyne. Undyne puts a hand on Alphys' shoulder, but Alphys twists it off with a sharp shrug. You can see her crying into her tail. Undyne forms a fist and stares at it with burning eyes. She releases it as violently as she formed it as she hears Asgore's voice. Asgore hears it as well, and judging by his reaction they are not his words.

"Oh Golly, look, humans are falling down. I'll just kill them and destroy the barrier instead."

He turns around to Toriel, but she swats away his hands. She averts her gaze and with a heavy head Asgore turns back around, away from her. Toriel rests her head in her hands and shakes it. It doesn't stay there long as she lunges it up at the sound of her own voice. It speaks of her holding her children hostage and subjecting them to her own trial. Her trial of fire. She stands up without a word, and walks down the room towards the exit. Dark spots dot the carpet underneath her. As Flowey questions if you have feelings for her she stops in her step, and turns to you. You want to yell to her to cover her ears, but you're too late.

"Embrace me with your humanity, my child," you hear Toriel's voice say with a seductive tone. The quiet seconds that follow feels like an eternity. You lower your head in shame and the sound of the door closing hurts as much as if you were standing in its way. A judge motions the human lawyer to stop and you can hear your voice threaten to pluck Flowey's petals fade away. The judge then stands up.

"Toriel has left the court room, and is no longer allowed to hear the rest of the hearing. I'm also going to remind you that she's not to be informed of anything that's been said after her departure. She's only to be told the result of the trial." The judge sits down again. "You may proceed," he allows the human lawyer.

The sound of something whizzing by the Echo Flower catches Undyne's ear. She recognizes the sound and shock takes over her face. She hears her own voice talking about how she enjoys killing kids. Alphys tries to comfort her, but with every word that passes her attempts become less and less engaging. She eventually stops, and without Alphys' support Undyne starts shaking. She meets Alphys' eyes, but as she opens her mouth up to speak Alphys stands up and walks towards the door. Undyne walks after her.

"Please, Alphee,", she pleads, but it only causes Alphys to pick up the pace. She closes the door in Undyne's face. Undyne stands in front of the door for a couple of seconds before she opens it herself.

You hide your face in your hands. The words spoken by Flowey still burns like acid in your ears. You tried to picture his face over your friends' voices, but you couldn't, and you hate yourself because of it. The sound of something hitting a table ends the Echo Flower's testimony, and the human lawyer puts the flower back in his bag.

"A copy of the recording will be submitted after the trial," he informs with an insecure voice. You can tell that he did this out of necessity, not malcontent. He turns towards Asgore. "This monster, did it speak the truth?"

Asgore stands up.

"I got nothing against you, I just want to know."

He removes his crown from his head.

"Asgore, did you kill my son?"

His eyes meets the human lawyer's.

"Your child died under my reign. Whether or not by my hand is not important. This title I bear is mine because I represent the monsters, and therefore I speak with their voice. Your son died in my kingdom, which means that I killed him. Not a night passes without me thinking if there was another way to solve our situation. The decision was made out of pure emotion and I've been haunted by the sins it has caused me ever since."

Asgore puts a hand on his chest. 

"For what it is worth, your son died with dignity. He died to save a nation, to save my people. I can't thank him enough for his sacrifice, and I can only hope to beg your forgiveness."

The human lawyer brings up his photo again. He strokes it before kissing it. "Is, is he buried?"

"I've given him our rites, but they don't involve burying. I'll pay for any expenses necessary to bring peace to your mind."

"He had a hat, my old cowboy hat. Is it?"

Asgore nods. "It was lost for a time, but we've recovered it. He's wearing it now."

"Thank you." Tears are collected on the lawyer's cheeks. Like rain they fill the dimple on his smiling cheeks. "Your honor, the prosecutor has no more questions."

"Does the defendant have any questions?"

ML shakes his head. "No."

"Then, can you call your third witness?"

ML looks at the door. "They just ran out. We'll have to summon our fourth."

"That is fine. Please call them."

The construction worker steps up to the podium.

"You have first hand experience with monsters, right?" ML asks.

The builder wrings his hands. "True."

"Tell us about it."

"I, I was working at a small community, installing a water fountain when something emerged from the forest. It was a monster, carrying a small human child. It lay it down not five meters in front of me. I approached it and it..." The builder pauses to collect strength. "It attacked me."

ML nods.

"The people around me managed to route it and it fled with the child. I survived the attack, but only barely."

"How did you survive?"

He looks at you and you nod in approval.

"I was healed, by magic. Human magic. It's the reason I'm alive now."

"Thank you."

ML turns to Asgore and Asgore replaces the worker in the booth.

"My king, tell us about the monster that attacked the human village."

Asgore bends down to the microphone. "It was my child."

Like a tsunami the words wash over the court, and like the the sound of receding water the court room bursts into whispers. A judge is forced to silence the crowd.

"A while ago a human child fell into the Underground," Asgore continues. "They became a part of my family, and I loved them like they were my own. We lived happy, they were happy, but one day something tragic happened." He looks at the chair where Toriel sat. "They died. My son, Asriel, absorbed their soul and passed through the barrier. He wanted to take the human back to their home on the surface. What he didn't know was that by absorbing humanity something changed inside him. My son, who wouldn't hurt a fly without crying." A weak scoff shakes the wet fur on Asgore's face, and drops of tears fall down. "My son, attacked a human. He had absorbed the crimson heart, a red soul, and it forced his hand. In a fury I called for the death of any human that fell down. I was to use their souls to break the Barrier and take revenge upon the humans. I do not plead innocence for the deaths, but they were not murders. I acted in self defense, to protect my people. A curse shattered my family, and its echoes still haunts the Underground."

"Objection," the human lawyer demands.

"Granted," says a monster judge.

"I'm sorry, Asgore, I find this very hard to believe, do you have any proof of this so called crimson heart?" the human lawyer asks.

"Can the pastor once again come up to the witness stand?" asks ML. The pastor walks up and waits patiently for Asgore to move out of the way before seating himself again.

"Father, can you explain to the crowd what the curse of the crimson heart is?"

"How do you know about it?"

"That's not important. Please, can you tell us?"

The pastor glances towards you before returning his eyes to ML. "The curse of the crimson heart speaks of a person who's soul is red like blood, and who possesses an unstable power called determination. Not much is known about the nature of determination, but there are signs that it only manifests in the presence of magic."

"Is there a human present here with the crimson heart?"

"Yes." A finger is pointed towards you. "We have a cursed being among us."

You feel hundreds of eyes staring at you.

"Thank you, father."

ML turns to you. "Can you please come up?"

The eyes follow you all the way to the podium. You seat yourself and look out over the crowd. The monster jury is whispering, and so are the humans. ML and Asgore approach you. "We are now going to summon the crimson heart. We will create an aura of magic around this human." ML explains. "The aura will be harmless."

"How can you be so sure? You are using magic on my witness," the human lawyer asks. "I don't have trouble with magic, but I need to be sure. Where's your proof?"

ML smiles. "You've been sitting in one for the entire trial."

A bubble forms around the human lawyer and shatters into small glittering pieces with a silent poof. He shields himself from the shards, but they evaporate almost instantly.

"Do you feel any different?" ML asks.

The human lawyer pats himself. "No."

"Then there's your proof."

Asgore looks you in the eyes. "Please forgive me for this," he says quietly.

Suddenly the air around feels, heavier, like it's been filled with something. You look at your hands, they're normal. You don't feel any different.

A couple of minutes pass, and you shake your head every time Asgore tells you how you feel. You grow tired of this, it's obviously not working. What's this supposed to prove anyway? You've been nice to them ever since they set foot on the surface. You gave them shelter, you've schooled their kids, and this is the thank you get? If you could do the reset thing Flowey was talking about you would've done things differently if this is all it has led to. You laugh at the idea. You laugh at what you would've done. You laugh at the begging they would've done.

"Human, how are you feeling?" Asgore asks you, again.

You open your eyes and look into his. Yours are reflecting in his, red.

Good.

You feel a grin taking root on your face. "How I'm feeling?" Asgore lowers his head and steps aside. The crowd gasps but you just raise an eyebrow in answer. "Asgore, how did you kill those kids? Did you slash them open with that trident of yours? Hey, why don't you let me have a feel? I plan to use it on my next lesson." You look ML deep in his eyes. "I'll let MK be the first volunteer."

ML cowers and Asgore steps in front of him with a stern look. "Human, this is not you. It's your soul. Just take a deep breath. You've already proven enough." He turns his head. "ML, remove the aura."

Like dust of someone who dare stand in your way the aura shatters and fills the air around you. Some land on your burning cheeks. You brush them off and rub the dust in your hand. It feels good.

"When I was in the Underground I saw a house very similar to yours, Asgore. It had a tree outside, a withered tree. Around the tree was a dried up patch of flowers, they were covered in dust."

You blow on the dust and it falls gently between you and Asgore. "Was that were Asriel died?"

Asgore looks away. "Human, the determination should fade away any moment now, just be quiet."

How dare he talk to you that way?

"Did I sweep your dead son with my hand, Asgore? Did i pick up what was left of him? Did I scatter him to the wind when I walked over him?"

He stands with his back against you.

"Asgore! Look at me when I'm talking to you!" you yell at him as you slam open the podium door. "Asgore, answer me!"

"Human."

"It's not human to you! It is-"

A wave of pain ripples out from your back and your body freezes. A crackling sound can be heard behind you, and you lose control over your muscles. You fall down on the floor, stiff like a pillar. The hand on your heart returns and again it squeezes your strength out of you. You try to fight it, but without control of your body you don't know how. It tightens it grip, and with a last tug you lose consciousness.


	28. Dinner for Toriel

"So, what do you reckon Toriel would fancy for her appetizer?"

"Snails, if they exist that is," you answer with your arm over your shoulder trying to scratch your back. You can't really reach the part where the stun gun hit you. The wound doesn't hurt, but it always makes itself aware when you move your torso. It also itches really bad because of the cheap band aid over the wound.

"Can't see any on the menu. You think she'll be fine with some garlic bread?" the suit wonders.

You can't reach the wound and you give up. "I mean, who wouldn't?"

"I'm not as in depth in their culture as you are, even after the court," the suit reminds you.

You take a sip of water. "You disappointed over the result?"

She shakes her head. "Nah, my job was to figure out the fate of the seven children, and now it's up to my employers to figure out their next step. I couldn't care less about the result."

"Mhm. Yeah right."

The suit puts down the menu on the table. "Misinterpret me right, please. I was the prosecutor, but we and the monsters had two different goals. We wanted to know what happened to the children, and they wanted to make sure that their people are to be welcomed back." She picks up the menu again after shrugging a hand in the air. "I've no problem with the legislation we passed, and I'm not bitter because we quote unquote, lost. Speaking of bitter, you think she wants something stiff to drink for the meal?"

"Is the lawyer OK with his son being dead?"

The suit peeks at you from atop the menu. "Not the most romantic way to put it, but yes, as much as a parent can be. The monsters have arranged for transportation and a proper goodbye. It's closing an open wound he's had for a while now. I just hope he doesn't lose his spark."

"That's a bit cold to say."

You shoo away a joke about the lawyer's son in your head.

"He tore into this case like a wolf, worked tirelessly. Now that he's reached what he thought was an impossible goal I want him to retain at least some of that energy."

You nod. "You two close?"

"I provide the evidence, he provides the argument."

You drink some more water. "Fair enough."

The suit puts down the menu for a second time. "I never would've thought Asgore would confess like that. Wait, you were present when he confessed, right?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I heard that before the, um..."

The wounds reminds you that they're present.

The suit leans back in their chair. "I had some suspicions as to what he'd done, but I wasn't close at all."

"Suspicions about what?" you ask as you lift your glass again.

"Him not being together with Toriel. I reasoned that it had to be something huge for her to leave his silver tongue."

The water takes a wrong turn and ends up in your lungs. You cough in reflex and the suit gives you a look. "I didn't mean it like that."

You manage to clear your throat just before Toriel arrives. She's wearing a robe not unlike her normal one, but it looks more royal, somehow. Despite her size she moves gently through the crowded restaurant. Heads follow her and the suit frowns a bit. She whistles for a waiter and whispers something in their ear. The waiter nods nervously and leaves quickly.

A couple of seconds later smooth jazz starts playing. The heads return to their own business and Toriel arrives at the table. The suit stands up and extends her hand. She takes it with a smile, and you offer yours next. You also get a smile, but it's a bit less brighter. Toriel seats herself and removes her sunglasses.

"Glad you could accept my invitation," the suit smiles.

"Me too. I've waited a long time for this. Your human restaurants are not so different from ours," Toriel answers as she takes in her surroundings.

"Seems to be a pattern," you add.

"Indeed," the suit agrees. "If I may, Toriel, I would recommend the chicken."

"Thank you, but I'd like to look through the menu if it's OK with you."

She opens the menu and you can see the suit's eyes widen.

"Oh, Toriel, you have something on your cheek."

"Do I? How embarrassing, excuse me."

She leaves for the bathroom.

"Why did you do that?" you ask the suit. She nervously taps on a picture on the second page.

"The chef's special! Whisky marinated lamb served with sweet potato," the suit proudly proclaims.

You nod and give her an approving thumb. "Good thinking. Why not recommend the salad though?"

"That might come off as racist," the suit whispers. "Because..you know?"

"True, again good thinking. By the way, please don't tell her about what I did at the trial. Said as well."

The suit nods. "The government signs both the law and my paycheck so my lips are sealed. You have my word."

"Thank you."

Toriel returns to a few minutes later and discovers that there's no menu on the table.

"I took the liberty of ordering for you," explains the suit.

She furrows her brow. "I'm flattered, but why?"

"I told you I would treat you to dinner and I ordered the best treat they have available."

Her face loosens up a bit. "If that's the case, thank you." It's still a bit suspicious of the suit's action.

"I also ordered this!" The suit moves the ice bucket closer to Toriel, and lifts up a beautiful looking bottle. "They didn't have anything from before the Barrier, but I hope that it'll suffice." She opens it and pours you all a glass. "To the new citizen of our little town," the suit toasts.

Toriel smiles, and nods in thanks before you all take a sip. Strong, but still smooth. Really smooth, like silk. The taste lingers in your mouth and it feels like walking through the very vineyard it was grown in. You're curious what Toriel thinks of it, but her face is not as lit up as you would've thought.

"You got some cork in yours?" the suit asks. She's also noticed Toriel's questioning face.

"Oh, no, the wine is fine."

"But you're used to something more royal?" you pry.

"Perhaps. I do thank you for it, it's been a long time since I've had a drink," she admits.

"You don't strike me as someone that would have one, if you excuse me for assuming," says the suit.

Toriel smiles shyly. "I was young once."

The suit returns a smirk. "Intriguing. Pray tell, what does young monsters do?"

Toriel looks around. "This is not an appropriate place to discuss."

"Toriel, you never told me that you had a wild side, a monster behind the monster," you say with flair in your voice.

"Let's just say that I've not always been a queen, so I've not always acted like one," she laughs.

You and the suit share an amused look.

"Now you have to tell us," you say.

"When the time is right," Toriel teases.

"When would that be?" you pry.

"No idea," she answers as she takes another sip.

A waiter brings in a basket of garlic bread, and your company helps themselves to one each. Out of the corner of your eye you see the waiter looking back towards your table.

"So, when are we gonna see new monsters popping up?" the suit asks.

"When we're done with our new capital, and when or if they want."

"You're still looking for a plot of land?" the suit continues.

"Yes. We have some candidates, but I wouldn't call them capital worthy."

"As in not enough beachfront property?" you joke.

"That and the fact that it is supposed to fit an entire nation."

"Nation as in human nation? Because then I think you may have some trouble," you warn her.

"I'm not sure what you define as a nation. If I put it like this, we can't possibly fit in this city, not unless we expand it at least threefold."

"You plan to move the school there?" the suit asks.

"When the time comes, yes."

"Then perhaps you could build another house, for me," you suggest.

Toriel's face lights up in excitement. "You want to come with us?"

"My job is gonna move I don't know how long away, so perhaps I should follow it," you explain with a shrug.

"We would love that. Humans will of course be welcome as well."

"Will there be snail restaurants?"

Toriel laughs and swats the air in front of you. "I'll make sure that they're labeled properly."

"How am I supposed to get anxiety for an entire day then?"

She laughs again.

"I'm gonna take this moment you two have and excuse myself. I have to use the bathroom," the suit interjects. "The food will not be here for a while so I might as well."

You and Toriel nod, and the suit leaves.

Toriel waits until the suit is out of sigh before swirling the wine in her glass. After a while she looks at you with concerning eyes. "Human, what I did at the trial, I wasn't blaming you. I just couldn't hear my own voice saying all those things, those, memories." She puts a hand over yours, it is warm and fuzzy. "Forgive me for not telling you them personally. Instead you had to hear them from that awful flower."

You put your other hand over hers. "Toriel, you can't blame yourself for what you did. I can't imagine anyone making rational decisions after losing a child, let alone two. You are not capable of doing those things anymore, if it is any comfort." You look her in her shaking eyes. "The Toriel I know is not the one Flowey told me about. None of you are. I don't know how long he may have known you, but he only knew the Underground version, the jailed version. He doesn't know who you are when you're no longer a prisoner."

She wipes away a tear. "Thank you, for saying that."

"So now would be a good time to ask for a raise?"

Toriel gently strokes your cheek. "I'm so happy that you stumbled into our lives."

You lean into her hand. "So am I." Toriel returns your hand to you and wit it you take another bread. "How are the others coping with the trial?"

"Alphys and Undyne have calmed down, they've also realized that they fell in love despite them knowing the things the other had done. Alphys a bit more than Undyne. They are together again."

"Glad to hear that. Asgore?"

"Asgore, he's been too busy dealing with the aftermath. Legislation, citizenship, the construction. He seems to be turning over his new chapter as well."

"But?"

Her voice lowers. "But I still see him as he was in Underground, and I don't think I'll ever see him as anything else."

"Maybe you're not willing to turn over your new chapter. Not completely that is."

"Perhaps you're right, but I don't know. The things he did."

You curse Flowey for the things he said. Toriel could've heard how Asgore reasoned, how he wanted to protect his people. Though then she would've also seen your...episode. You come to the conclusion that Flowey created the lesser of two evils. You still curse him though. Toriel takes another sip and you do the same.

"So," you remember. "I heard the wonderful news. I would imagine Frisk being very happy when you broke it to them."

Her face lights up again. "I've never seen something so small smile so big. We had a moment together. They stained my dress until it was wetter than the Waterfall, but I let them."

"Feels good to be 'Mother Toriel' again?"

She dries off another tear. "Very much so, yes."

You nod to yourself. "Frisk Dreemurr, cool name. Was there any problem with the adoption?"

"Asgore told me that he took care of it at the trial, and he was true to his words. I just had to sign a few papers. They're now my child in the eyes of your government."

You see another tear form in her eye.

"After everything you've gone through, Toriel, you deserve it. Frisk wanted it, you wanted it. You'll make a great Surface mom." You tap your glass. "Will there be a Surface dad for Frisk as well?"

"He said that he would cosign when I felt comfortable with it."

"Then perhaps it is time for you to see past his jail."

"One day, I do really hope I can."

You raise your glass. "To you and Frisk then and for the possibility of a future Surface dad."

The two of you clink your glasses together. Hers is more empty than yours. Yours is almost half empty when you set it back down while she sets down an empty one.

"Allow me," the suit offer and refills Toriel's glass with a smile.

"Thank you."

The suit sits down. "No food yet?"

"Not for us, no," Toriel answers after another sip of wine.

"Good, didn't want to return to a cold plate. So, Toriel, how does life on the Surface compare to the life Underground?"

"It's a lot brighter."

The suit smirks and so do you. Toriel laughs at her own joke and the suit toasts to her again.

The food finally comes after a bit more waiting and you have a bit of yours. It's good.

"What did you say this was again?" Toriel asks.

"Chicken," answers the suit.

She cuts up a piece and inspects it.

"Is it pink?" the suit wonders.

"Should it be?"

"Oh deary me, no."

"It is white inside," Toriel relays.

"That means it's good. It also pairs well with the wine."

She takes a bite and a sip of wine, "It does, thank you."

You join the restaurant wide orchestra of utensils clinking together. Your table is just one of many and you realize how wonderful it makes you feel. Monsters are back and now they're here to stay and it seems like people are opening up to the idea. You smile at Toriel eating human food at a human restaurant with human patrons at her side. She seems happy, very happy. You lean back and swirl your glass before taking a sip. It tastes like change. It tastes good.

"Excuse me," says a voice next to your ear.

You almost fall out of your chair and after some flailing you clumsily jump closer to the table with it. A waiter passes you and you feel your face heating up. Luckily Toriel didn't see that. The suit did and she's smirking. Toriel lifts up her head and you can hear her finding something in the air with her nose.

"What's that amazing smell?" she asks.

You turn around and see that the waiter was carrying the chef's special. You feel yourself stiffen up. The suit's face is contorted in thought. Toriel spots the waiter and finishes her glass in one fell swoop before walking over. You can see the table she approaches looking at her with perplexed eyes. She bows her head and talks with them for a while. You and the suit sit there, waiting.

"Should we do something? Intercept?" you ask with a shaky voice.

"I, I don't know. What if she lashes out against them? She's had three glasses. How does alcohol affect monsters?"

"I ain't got the foggiest."

"You've never had a drink with them?" the suit whispers loudly.

"Where would I have it? In class?" you spit back.

The suit hushes you and points toward the table where Toriel is. She bends over and picks up a piece with a fork. You look over to her seat and see that hers is not there. She eats the piece and your mind rushes with the worst possible scenarios. You put a hand on the back of the chair so you can push off it if something happens. But nothing happens. She bows again and returns. With a quizzical look she inspects you and the suit.

"Why are you so tense? Did I do something wrong?" she asks.

"Um, what, what did you ask them?" the suit stumbles out.

"Turns out the chef has a special with lamb and sweet potato."

She takes a breath and you hold yours in.

"It tastes like it smells, amazing. Why didn't you order it for me?" Toriel asks the suit.

"I, uh, I thought, you know."

Toriel furrows her brow. "No, I don't."

"Lamb, goat, you, kid," the suit tries to explain with her hands.

"I'm not a goat, I'm a monster."

The suit smiles sheepishly. "Yes, but."

"But you see me as a goat?" Toriel confronts.

"No, never," the suit defends. "I just thought that the resemblance would leave a bad taste in your mouth."

"seems to be the opposite to me."

A breeze makes the table cloth dance around your legs.

"Sans, is that you?" Toriel asks the hooded figure.

You look down his pocket and see his bony hand. "Sure looks like it," you confirm.

"Who is Sans? Why is he here?" the suit asks. Sans looks up a bit and shows his face to the suit who jumps a bit in her seat.

"my bro and his commanding officer is on their way here to escort toriel and the guest of honor to the unveiling of the above lab."

You point to yourself.

"yes."

"Undyne and Papyrus?" you ask. "Both?"

"yes. i overheard them and thought i would give you a heads up."

You nod. "Where are they now?"

Sans beckons his head towards the exit. "right around the corner. i should be able to hold them off for a minute or so, but pap is set on proving that he's worthy."

"I guess that means making a scene here in the restaurant?" you deduce.

"yup, he's cool and all, but I don't think the people here want to see a skeleton march in. might turn some heads." Sans shrugs. "if it was just you i would tell him to go right ahead, but now that toriel is here."

"Then maybe we should leave before we cause a stir for the other guests here," Toriel proposes.

She stands up and you and the suit follows. She take Toriel's hand and then yours. Then she turns around to see Sans offering his from under his stained pocket. The suit nods instead and Sans seems happy with it.

"Thank you for the meal," Toriel says.

"Thank you for the company," the suit answers. "Maybe we can have it a bit longer next time."

You, Toriel, and Sans leave and step out into the sunset. Toriel puts on her sunglasses and turns her face to the sun. You do the same.

"What do you think guest of honor means?" you ask Toriel with your eyes still closed towards the sun.

"I don't know. Asgore likes his secrets. Do you have any ideas, Sans?"

She gets a snore in answer.

"Helpful as always, Sans," you comment.

Another snore.

After a couple of minutes you hear some tires screeching.

"Must be Papyrus." You nudge Sans. "You coming with us, Sans?" you ask the empty space between you and Toriel. A small gust of wind tells of Sans' departure.

Not a second later a black limousine pulls up and the back door is opened. Undyne steps out in her armor with a spear forming in her hand.

"You can't resist doing that, can you?" you ask her with crossed arms.

She spins it in her hands. "Do what?"

"Spear it out, or whatever you call it, every time."

She tosses it in the air before catching it between two fingers. "Sounds like jealousy to me."

You share a laugh and she invites you inside the car. You let Toriel in first before seating yourself next to her. Undyne knocks twice on the roof with her spear before she closes the door. A small window opens between you and Toriel and Papyrus' head peeks through.

"GOOD EVENING, MY QUEEN! TO YOU TOO, HUMAN!"

The tip of his hat hits your nose as he turns towards you. "ARE WE READY TO BE DRIVEN BY ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS?"

"Certainly, please take us to Asgore," Toriel asks with a gentle voice.

"WILL DO!" Papyrus responds with a not so gentle voice. He disappears back and a second later you hear the engine start. You barely manage to scramble for the seat belt before it has to do its job.

A bumpy ride later you spot a white building resting at the foot of Mt Ebott. The car stops, and once again the seat belt buries itself in your chest. Undyne forms another spear as she leaves the car. You exit and see her standing at salute with her spear firmly at her side. As you help Toriel out Undyne introduces you to the public in front.

"Make way for the Queen and the guest of honor!" she commands. You and Toriel follow her to a podium. Behind it stands Asgore in a sharp suit. You can hear Toriel gasp at the sight of him. He welcomes you and Toriel, and invites you two up beside him. He then turns to the crowd.

"I stand before the first cooperation between humans and monsters. In this very building we will, together, rebuild the bond that was broken. In here we will research a better future for us, for both humans and monsters alike. I present to you, 'Above Lab'!"

He conjures up a fireball in his hand and tosses it up towards the building. It hits a large piece of fabric that burns rapidly to reveal a large brass symbol picturing a human hand and a monster limb shaking in front of Mt Ebott.

"May science and magic be one once again!" he declares with pride.

The crowd cheers at the spectacle and Asgore turns to you and Toriel.

"Want to be the first visitors?"


	29. A new chapter

The double doors open up and you enter a big lobby.

"This is the main lobby where we will be holding tours and press conferences. It's been designed to take into account odd numbered limbs as well as tail only monsters. Magic or DNA identification will be necessary to access the rest of the facility," Asgore explains proudly to the crowd of people he brought with him inside Above Lab for the first time. You follow him through the busy lobby. Workers are assembling various kinds of exhibitions that describe science and magic.

"Over here we will have the corner of explanation," Asgore continues. You see Toriel snicker a bit. "Here we will be providing explanations as to how science works for monsters, and for humans we will have explanations for magic. We have assembled a group to tackle conveying the information as easily and smoothly as possible. More on that later. Over here we will install a mural that symbolizes the collaboration between our species. A bigger and more expansive piece than the one outside."

The tour goes on for a while with a never ending supply of excitement and pride from Asgore, but there's only so much white space you can be promised to be amazed by in the future before you lose a bit of interest. Toriel seems to be the opposite and despite just finishing a meal she's got a pair of hungry eyes looking towards Asgore. Her hand is failing to hide her smile. Asgore catches her eyes and she lets hers wander away. He sees Toriel blushing and his face lights up more.

"so being an honorable guest means that you walk around in a white room. fun," you hear Sans say next to you. He's on the opposite side of Toriel.

You nudge him with your elbow. "You can't fault him for being so excited now can you?"

"he's the king, all right," he nudges you back- "you wanna see something more exciting?"

"What could be more exciting than walking around an empty room? Wait, a big empty room."

"guess i'll go behind the doors myself then."

You bend you head to him, Toriel doesn't notice. "How?" you whisper to him.

Sans spins an ID card between his fingers, your face is on it. "i think asgore wanted it to be a surprise, but with the amount of glee he is riding on now he might forget to give it to you later. i took the liberty of making sure that you got it," he explains as he gives it to you. It has a sleek design and you admire it for a bit.

"So, how do you plan for us to slip out unnoticed?" You lift your head and see that you're standing in front of a door. A breeze passes you and Sans. "Stupid question."

"your words."

You swipe the card and a light on the console turns orange. Sans takes your hand and puts it on a screen. You feel something scrape against it and after a couple of seconds the light turns green. The door unlocks and before you close it you turn your head to see Asgore's group walking away from you.

"So what now?" you ask as you inspect your hand. There's a bit of skin missing, but it's not bleeding.

Sans looks around. "not a clue. keep a look out while i check the map."

"And where would that map be?"

You don't get an answer, and you look around to see that the corridor is empty. You roll your eyes and lean yourself against a wall.

Minutes pass and you finally hear footsteps closing in on you, but they are not Sans'. Two monsters in lab coats come around the corner. They stop talking and look at you. You smile and wave. They return it and continue with their conversation.

"You got the demonstration up and running?" asks a purple monster with four eyes.

"Managed just in time. I wonder how the humans will react," answers the other one. They're yellow and have three arms.

"A bit of sparkles, some conjuration. I think they'll be stunned beyond belief."

"I'd love to see their reactions!" The yellow monster snap their claws. "You think they're gonna film it?"

"Probably. Watch it together later?"

"Sure."

They enter a door and the corridor goes silent again.

The clean white color mixed with young and eager light fixtures is not doing your eyes any favors. You close them.

"we sleeping on the job?"

"I was just resting my eyes, Sans. All this white is making my head hurt a bit," you explain with a hand towards the light.

He shakes his head and gives you a disapproving look. "i would never do that."

You hear fabric getting rustled, and see that Sans' jacket is filled with more than just one full set of skeleton. "Sans, why is Frisk here?"

He lets Frisk out of his jacket. "i need their help."

"With?"

"stuff," he explains thoroughly.

"As always."

Sans and Frisk pass you.

"this way," he beckons for you.

"Where to?"

"stuff," he details again.

"What kind of stuff?"

He shakes his head. "that would be spoiling it. come on. i need your help as well."

You round the corner with them. "So where to?"

"this way, obviously."

You pinch your nose bridge. "OK, and why do you need me and Frisk?"

"dna."

You bend down to him. "Come again?"

He pushes your head back up. "since i can't access with my magic we need to try with your and or frisk's dna."

"So we're breaking and entering?"

You spot a camera. A bit worryingly.

"and here i was under the impression that you did things for toriel."

"Vague won't get you my DNA. What is scheming in that head of yours?"

"stuff."

You sigh and turn your head towards the child. "Frisk, do you know what stuff he's talking about?"

They tug on Sans' jacket and he nods. "heard them too, kiddo. let's hide in here."

He motions for you to open a nearby door. You want to ask why, but you hear the sound of multiple footsteps closing in. A thick, burly voice leads them through the corridors. Asgore!

The door unlocks after some silent cursing from you fiddling with your card, and you dive under the window pane separating the room from the corridor.

"And this is where we will be holding the demonstration. I will unfortunately not be present because I'm needed elsewhere," you hear Asgore explain through the glass. The footsteps return for a couple of seconds and then you hear the door closing.

"Asgore," you hear Toriel say.

You see his shadow stop. "Yes?"

"You're not needed somewhere else." The sound of a smooth kiss has you trading looks with Frisk. "You're needed right here."

Asgore's shadow shakes a bit. "Toriel, I-"

"I've not been fair to you, Asgore. I couldn't see past what you were, but up here you have been the king I fell in love with. I'm ready to start my new chapter now, Asgore. I'm ready to start it with you. Come, let's walk."

"Golly, sure. Anything for you, Toriel."

"Dear," Toriel corrects.

"Anything for you, dear."

You peek your head over the edge of the glass to see Toriel and Asgore walking away hand in hand. She's leaning her head against his shoulder. You motion for Frisk to stand up and a smile forms on their lips as you help them look over the glass. You ruffle their hair. "Looks like you might be getting better tea for your breakfast from now on."

You set Frisk down and Sans clears his throat. "the stuff."

"Oh, yeah. Let's go."

You close the door behind you and Frisk skips ahead with the biggest smile they can muster.

"By the way, Sans. These video cameras," you ask after a couple of minutes of walking.

"the guard on duty is, busy, at the moment."

"How do you mean busy, exactly?"

"oh look, we're here."

A thick door with a yellow sign warns of unstable magic.

You point at the sign. "Sans, we're not bringing Frisk in there. I'm a bit on the fence about going in myself."

He shrugs. "eh, it's just to scare people. the magic is not unstable. shouldn't be while alphys is on call."

"Alphys is in there, doing what?"

He knocks on the console with a carefull knuckle. "guess you have to consoleidate your options if you want to know."

You swipe your card and put your hand against the screen. The light stays orange. Sans lifts up Frisk with his magic and they put their hand against the screen. The light turns green immediately, and the door opens with an ominous hiss.

"That to scare people away as well?" you comment.

Sans ignores your question and walks right in.

The door closes behind you and Frisk with another hiss. Inside is a machine unlike anyone you've ever seen. Computer terminals and servers litter the walls of the wide room, and on the far side wall is a metallic constructs made to look like a circle. Thick tubes run from it, and underneath it is a control panel with Alphys hunched over it.

"a bit of an upgrade, isn't it?"

She jumps with a squeal. "S-Sans! W-what're you doing h-here?"

He takes in his surroundings. "we're on tour. checking out the lab, and i figured we'd pop in to say hi."

"B-B-ut, you're n-not supposed to b-be here."

Sans walks closer to Alphys. "and neither should you be, for that matter."

"I-I was g-given t-this position," she defends.

"doesn't matter. we need to use it."

Alphys starts shivering, "T-t-he machine?"

"i know that it is finished, alphys." Sans takes a seat next to a computer. "we need to try to get a hold of someone. frisk's idea."

He turns to you and points to a monitor. "read out the values to me would you."

You don't move. "What are we doing?"

"calling an old friend."

You shake your head. "Enough with your vagueness. I want answers."

"so do i."

"Sans."

He points to you again. "i'm gonna ask you one more time as nice sans." His eyes disappears. "read me the values," he commands with a frightening voice. Frisk steps up, but you push them behind you.

You make sure you position yourself between Sans and Frisk as you slowly walk over to the computer Sans is pointing at. "This long term investment is looking pretty bad now, skelebro."

He ignores your remark. "first value?"

You read out the values and Sans enters them into his computer.

"good, now stand there and inform me if the screen starts malfunctioning. alphys, take station two." She hesitates for a second. "station. two," Sans repeats hard.

She waddles over to the other wall and powers on a server. Sans and Alphys give each other information. You lean back on a table to try and decide how the hell you should feel about this. You sit yourself on something sharp and you pick it up from behind your back to see what it is. A clipboard.

"Human physics," it reads. You skim it through. An array of numbers and graphs cover the papers, all incomprehensible to you. Incomprehensible, but not unfamiliar. A couple of numbers at the bottom of a paper looks out of place. Your eyes shoot wide open. They're in your handwriting!

"activate."

"No! Stop!" you scream out.

The metallic construct bends and twists in on itself with sparks shooting out of it.

"reroute to overflow."

Alphys nods and moves to another computer.

"Sans, the machine is broken!" you shout so they can hear your words over the malfunctioning computers.

"i planned for this. alphys, is the overflow holding?"

She backs up from the computer. "N-No."

He snaps his head around. "no? the human scientist said that it would hold."

"They're using my numbers!" you scream over the pained metallic sound emanating from the construct.

Sans and Alphys stop.

"I-I wrote something down. I didn't know it was important. I-"

Alphys collapses in tears and Sans looks at you with vacant eyes. A blue spark ignites his left eye. A darkness fills the room, absorbing every light in its path. The only thing visible is Sans' eye. A hollow wail echoes out from the construct. You feel Frisk clasping your leg and you put your hand over their ear. Sans raises his hand and a skull forms next to him. A large, animal like skull. It grins as he does.

A beam of energy explodes out from the void behind him and almost hits you. It bursts open the door with a deafening sound. Another howl causes the entire room to shake and Sans looks down at Frisk. You feel their tears against your leg. Sans' shoulders drop and he starts laughing.

"this promise is going to be the death of me!" He lifts you and Frisk up and throw you out the door. "run! warn the others!"

You scramble on your feet and pick up Frisk.

"is this how you greet old friends?" you hear Sans snark.

Another energy beam is fired and you turn around to see dust fly out of the doorway.

"My friends," you hear Asgore say through a speaker in the roof. You look back and see the darkness crawling on the walls, chasing you.

"Long have we waited, long have we dreamed about the surface," the speaker continues. You take a corner too greedily and hit your knee. You scream out the pain and force yourself to continue.

"I would like to invite you all to the future! A future paved by both humans and monsters," Asgore finishes.

The double doors opens too slowly and you burst through them. Asgore and Toriel turn around and spot the darkness growing towards you and Frisk. They both summon fireballs in their hands and throw it against the oozing and twisting void behind you. The fires sizzle as soon as they touch it.

It stops for a while before exploding in retaliation. It scales the walls, absorbing the roof. Black tendrils snake their way up the outer walls of the Above Lab. They twist around the windows, the brass symbol, and stop at nothing. The ground right behind you is ripped up and crumpled. Metal and concrete bending into itself like this, it shouldn't be possible. The sound is causing your ears to bleed. With a dark growl the building collapses in on itself, leaving just a sphere of oozing void.

"No," you see Asgore whisper out.

A wave of heat hits you.

You blink, but you can't see anything. Your vision is blurry. You try to dry it away with your arm, but you poke yourself in the eye. You grasp at your eye, but you can't feel it. You try to rub your fingers against each other, but you don't feel them either. You want to shake your head, but the pain is arguing against you. You force your neck to obey and finally your vision clears. Fire rages around you. Rubble is scattered on the ground.

Amid the chaos you spot something white. Toriel. You call out for her, but she doesn't move. You try to stand up but, you lose your balance. With heavy arms you crawl towards her. Screams surround you, human screams. With pained breath in your lungs you finally reach her. She's covered in dust. You try to reach out for her, but as you lay weight on her she fades, and dust takes over her features. You try to hold her together, but she disappears in your arms. A white heart floats in front of you. It shakes. You try to grab it, but you miss it. You have no hand. The heart shatters where your hand should be. You scream, and fall to the ground causing her dust to flutter in the air. What's left of her falls gently on you, but she's swept away by the tears running down your cheek. You scream out for her again. This time you know she's not going to respond.

Another voice calls out for her. A tiny voice, a pained voice. It screams Asgore's and Toriel's name again and again.

"Frisk?" you shout back. A tiny human walks closer to you. They struggle with their balance and fall on their knees. You try to stand up, but your knees fail you as well. You fall down next to them and they collapse in your arms. Asgore's crown falls out of their hand and onto the ground.

"Frisk!"

They're not breathing.

"Frisk, you need to reset! Find me again, we can undo this!"

Nothing.

"Frisk!"

"Screw it. This, this is the day," you say to yourself as you wake up. This self pity has to stop, you have to move on with your life. But wait, haven't you already done that? You can't stay inside your house forever, you made a promise. Yes, but, haven't you already fulfilled it?

It is a beautiful day outside, maybe you should take a jog to freshen up your mind. Some exercise to mark a new chapter in your life, sounds good to you. You thrust yourself out of your bed and rush down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Why is your fridge this empty? Didn't you refill it just a couple of days ago?

You open the patio door and whistle. Why did you whistle? What are you doing on the patio? Breakfast in the sun, perhaps? After a quick one you scour the hallway closet for your running shoes. You smile as you manage to get them on your feet. The excitement of doing something is a feeling you've almost forgotten and the smile stays as you lock the door.

As you round the corner you find some wild flowers and stop to pick them up. White and yellow flowers, no. No, not those. Not that color. You retract your hand, breathe out and start your run.

As you reach the base of the mountain you wonder if you should take the road up. You try to look for it, but you don't find it. Weird. You decide to take the secret passageway your mother told you about instead.

The path is overgrown, and you have to fight some stubborn branches to see the start of it. It is a tiny path, almost unrecognizable because of how rarely it's used. You wager that you're the first one to use it in months. Hopefully you remember the general direction it leads to. It is a very serene path, untamed forest grow on both sides creating a tunnel of green. The shadows from the leafs above you meld together into a layer of gray on the ground as the sun disappears behind the clouds. The wind picks up, but you're isolated from it though under the trees. Despite the low visibility you still carry on.

While you steadily climb the mountain you begin to wonder about the legend that surrounds the mountain, that people that climb it never return. You shake your head at the idea. You've been up this mountain plenty of times. Right? Have you? The legends could just be that, legends. Despite the idea sticking even after your effort to shake it loose you still carry on.

A couple of minutes later you start to feel the sun peeking out from its hiding spot and the path turns into a kaleidoscope of green, brown and orange. Sun shafts dance above you, moving as you do. You see the veins of the leafs, dark scars on a light green film. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this was a good idea.

The sun wastes no time warming your surroundings, and you feel yourself working up a bigger sweat than before. You take a drink of water. Good thing you remembered this time. This time? Despite that weird thought you still carry on.

You wonder if an earthquake would be possible here. Earthquake? Here? How? The mountain is as steady as, well, a mountain. It has never moved for as long as you can remember. It is pretty hollow though so there could theoretically be a possibility. You read that, somewhere. Despite more weird thoughts you still carry on.

The plateau creeps closer and closer as the sun starts to set. You take another sip of water to refresh yourself. A few minutes of controlled breathing later the ground flattens and your steps become easier to take.

The sun is now at the horizon and you push yourself a bit harder since you feel that you have energy left. You round a corner and enter a cave. Wait. Why did you run in here? You can't see anything. Despite that you still manage to keep your footing. But how? It's like you've been inside here before. But you haven't? Have you?

The mountain suddenly shakes, and you lose your balance. You try to brace your fall, but there's no ground under your hands. Far below you is a yellow patch of flowers closing in quickly. With a hard impact you land and lose consciousness."

The child relaxes their pose. "Which brings us to here."

The last words bounce on invisible walls and the scene disappears. Left is a silent darkness, an empty void.

"So, now we can continue. How about I introduce myself first?" A nod is given in answer. "My name is Chara. I'm your twin."


	30. Another person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Wonderful thanks to BlackRazorBill for their rendition of this chapter.](https://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/post/154855004022/travelling-through-the-mist-of-your-memories)

"OK, so, I'm dead?"

"No, not technically. You're just unable to live. Your body is not doing so well right now, and your soul is hanging on a thread." The child makes a heart with their hands. "You see, you have two entities that are you," they break the heart, "but they're not connected. Your soul might also be scarred from Frisk' reset so there's gonna take more than just plain healing to get you back on your feet unfortunately."

The fallen human gives the child a perplexed look. "Wait, I'm not in my body?"

"Your soul is outside it, hanging on for dear life. You need both to be whole so... Asriel is trying, but he's draining himself. Frisk is offering your soul shelter."

"Frisk?"

"Yes, they're too damn nice for their own good. Hopefully you'll not leak too much determination."

"So, where am I?"

The child sighs through their lips. "Not a clue, it's not where I was, but that could be because you're alive yet you're not."

"So, let me get this straight. Everything you said was true and this is real?"

The child nods. "Yep."

"How can I be sure? How did you find all this out?"

"OK, this is gonna get a bit complicated," Chara prepares by stretching their arms over their head.

"Now it is gonna get complicated?" the fallen human comments.

"Hilarious," Chara replies with an outstretched tongue. "Let's get the big one out of the way first. You're lying on me right now, my grave, and you're being healed by my sibling's, Asriel, magic. Frisk is also next to you, and when you combine you being my sibling, technically my soul influencing you, and Frisk being very close to you. Perhaps they're getting a dose of magic as well, hm. Anyway, your soul is probably blinding them and painting the entire cave red because of the amount of determination you're experiencing right now, and that's the reason you're not dead at the moment. If your soul was whole you wouldn't have any problem resetting at the moment, but since it was sliced up and then badly mended by your dad you're leaking determination like the Waterfall. I'm getting sidetracked now, aren't I?" Chara stops with a questioning hand.

They see the shock and bewilderment in their sibling's face and let out a scoff. "Told you it was gonna get complicated. OK, short version. One, magic and determination is keeping you alive. Two, because of all these connections you have to me I was able to sorta slip in here and access your soul's memory. Three, I have no idea how to get you out of here, in fact, I think I'm stuck here as well. All clear?"

The question hangs in the air for some time and the smile on Chara's face melts into a frown. They open their mouth to speak, but a raised finger from their twin stops them. "No, not clear at all, but I'm still gonna roll with it. Right now it is my only lead to get out of here."

"Great! Now we're up to speed. So, do you feel any different? Anything you can perhaps use to get us out of here? Close your eyes, look inside you. Do you see like, a star or something?" Chara asks their sibling. Their sibling closes their eyes and squeeze their hands. After a minute the hands opens.

"Nope."

"Damn, Asriel and Frisk must be knee deep in determination now. OK, um, new plan." Chara squeezes their forehead as they think.

"Can't I use your determination or something?" the fallen human suggests.

"Since my soul is interwoven with Frisk's we'd have to kill them, and I'd rather not because I would then lose my only connection to the real world." Chara scratches their cheek. "You'd die as well, so. Not that I can reach them right now since I kinda dived straight in. I'm not blaming you, just thinking out loud."

Quiet hangs like a thick blanket in the air. Chara is going through multiple poses but none is giving them the idea they need. Next to them sits the last of the fallen humans. They have their head in their hands, trying to figure out if this is real or just in their head. There's no luck for them either.

The sound of a bell makes their heads shoot up. They look at each other with furrowed brows.

"I know that sound."

"Yeah, me too."

It rings again, this time a bit louder. Chara's face goes through an array of emotions before settling on mild shock when a leg steps in front of them.

"You're not thinking about going to them?" Chara snarks with some anger in their voice.

"Maybe they have some answers, they've been dead for a while as well. Dad knew magic too, didn't you say so?"

Chara turns around and crosses their arms. "I don't want to meet them. They're not my family."

"Sit here then. If I figure out how to get out of here I'll come back. Thank you for the story, if it was true that is."

The unnatural echo from their sibling's footsteps soon fade away leaving only the occasional ringing from that damned bell.

Chara lays down on the featureless floor and massages their throat. The silence is welcomed, but it would be more welcomed if that bell stopped. They can finally hear their own thoughts for once, but the thoughts are not what they expected them to be. Faces flash in their head, faces they want to forget. They try to swat them away, but the faces stay.

No, they left for a reason and that reason hasn't changed! They were happy in the Underground, they had a family. A real family. A family that treated them well! A family that didn't give them a curse. Chara never got an apology for that. Not that they would accept it if they got one. But, now that they have the chance...

The bell rings again. Chara looks at their reflection in the floor. A child stares back at them. A human child, not a monster child. A human child that had human parents. They rub the space where their ears would be if they were Toriel's kid, but they grab nothing but air.

The bell tolls again. Maybe just see what they want, have them apologize? Chara knows who their real family is, so just visiting this one wouldn't hurt. Right? With a grumble they stand up and wait for the bell to ring again before walking towards it.

A deep sigh echoes around its source even though there's no wall or roof in sight. The bell is the only thing providing a sense of direction. Question swim in the fallen human's head. Did the kid tell the truth? How can you forget your sibling? Maybe Mom and Dad can answer? Finally they get to see them again and give them a proper goodbye. But, why didn't they say anything about Chara? Is, was, Chara even their sibling? Did the kid lie? Again, how can you forget your sibling?

"Wait," Chara shouts against their sibling's back. To their relief they turn around.

"Change of heart?" the fallen human quips.

"Don't," Chara spits back.

"Sorry then."

Chara walks up next to their sibling and is offered a hand. They take it. "It's not because I'm a child, I'm just a bit tired," Chara explains.

They get a smile and a nod in return, "Sure you aren't."

"Telling your story takes a lot of effort."

Despite being helped by their sibling, Chara feels their legs getting heavier and heavier with every step. Their sibling feels it and squats down. "You want to sit on my shoulders?"

"No."

"OK then," the fallen human says before standing up.

"Wait."

They come face to face again.

"Yes."

Chara climbs up on their sibling's back and swing their legs over the shoulders.

  


"I'm still not a kid, dad," Chara says without thinking. They catch their mouth, but the words have already been spoken. They feel their face blush and their sibling laugh. "Stop it!" they command.

"Golly, if you say so," their sibling say with a poor imitation of Asgore. Chara crosses their arms again.

After some more walking a light appears and finally defines a horizon. A smile forms on both of the human's lips, but Chara's curls into a frown.

"Wait, is that the old house? Didn't they buy a new in the city?" Chara asks while scratching their head.

"Financial problems. We had to move back in. It's cozy, I like it."

Chara scoffs. "Really? What bout the lawn that was like, half weed and half more weed?"

"Eh, like you said, you get Undyne to cut it and then it looks good."

"It's nothing compared to Asgore's garden," Chara boasts.

"No, of course not. His garden is a masterpiece," the fallen human agrees. "Or at least that's what you told me."

"I can vouch for that if you don't believe your memory."

"The memory might be mine, but the words were yours," the fallen human tilts their head towards their sibling. "Did you really tell everything? There are some gaps, you know."

"Come on, I've never done that before! Telling another person's life to them. Cut me some slack."

The fallen human nods. "Why wasn't I afraid of the monsters when I first woke up?"

"You were, remember, I told you that. I might have skipped a bit of you sucking your thumb before going downstairs, but you bonded very fast with them. Same thing happened with Frisk in the Underground. They also filled in the void left by your family, didn't they?"

The fallen human cocks their head. "Did they?"

"Don't worry, if you get your soul back the memories should flow back sooner rather than later," Chara assures.

"And you know that, how?"

"The reason you're here, and the reason I had to tell you everything, is because your soul is outside your body meaning that you can't access the memories stored there."

"So bringing my soul back to my body should not only wake me up, but restore my memories," the fallen human finishes.

"That's my thinking."

"So why didn't I have them after the reset thing?"

"It was Frisk's reset, not yours. Which means that your head forgot them, but your soul still have them locked inside it. You just need to unlock them."

The fallen human puts a hand on their chest. "And how do I do that?"

"Not a clue, never seen it happen before. Probably determination."

"Maybe mom and dad know how."

"Who's is the kid now?" Chara teases.

"You rested enough to walk the last bit?"

Chara narrow their eyes, the light is still some ways off. "No."

"Then have it your way, my child." says another badly impersonation.

"Stop that, that's my mom."

"Isn't she mine as well? Didn't I adopt them? That what you meant by bonding?"

"No, you just bonded. Completely different."

The fallen human shrugs. "Semantics."

Chara shakes their head. "No."

"Yes."

"No, it is different," Chara spits back and throws a fist against their sibling's shoulder.

"Fine, fine. I was just joking. Relax."

"No fighting before dinner!" shouts a voice from an open window in the house. Chara almost fall off their mount as it stops in shock. They hear a silent whisper from below them.

"Dad?"

"You can also stop ringing the bell, we can see them now," the man continues with his head outside the window.

"Maybe you can! I don't have my glasses on me," replies another voice before ringing the bell even louder.

"Mom?" comes another whisper.

"Why did you stop? Food is gonna get cold!" the man yells before closing the window. The woman enters the house as well. Chara frowns.

"I don't like this," they comment. "Not a bit," but they don't get an answer. "Hello?" they try again. They bend over and see the stunned face of their sibling. They snap their fingers and it wakes up.

"What? Sorry, it's just... Let's continue."

The wooden gate squeaks as it opens. A pair of nervous eyes look around before walking up to their family.

"Um, could you set me down first?" Chara asks. "I'd rather not hit my head on the doorway."

"Oh, sorry," their sibling apologize as they help Chara down. "You wanna come in or do you want to wait outside?"

"Go inside to them? No."

"OK, wait here."

Chara looks around sarcastically. "Where else would I?"

The remark goes unnoticed as a shaky hand opens the door.

"Take off your shoes," a motherly voice says from the kitchen. "The table is set so have a seat."

"Y-yes, mom," replies the fallen human with an unsteady voice. They remove their shoes after some trouble with the knots and enters the living room.

On a sofa sits a small child reading. They notice the figure walking in and lower the book from their face. They see them stop and tears forming in the longing eyes. With spring in their step the small child rush towards the figure. Arms sweep them up and they're pressed against their lost siblings chest. The figure drops to its knees and tears flow into their little sister's hair.

"I'm so sorry," the fallen human begs. "I've missed you so much! Please, forgive me. I just wanted you to get home. I couldn't see you like that. I wanted you to come home with me. I love you, please forgive me!" Sobs and pleading fill the warmly lit room.

"I've missed you too," the small child comforts. "You couldn't have known, no one blames you."

"I do!" the fallen human cries out.

"You tried to help, no one can blame you for that."

They embrace their little sister harder. "I'm sorry. I, I'm just so happy to see you again."

"Could I get in on the hugging?" asks another voice before embracing it's lesser siblings.

"Bro! I've missed you too."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I mean, who wouldn't miss me? I'm awesome!" He helps their lesser siblings up on their feet. "Now come eat with us, and dry your face, you look silly," the biggest sibling suggest before doing it himself.

The fallen human fights off their big brother. "Stop, stop, I'm coming. It's a lot for me, all this."

"You'll feel better with some grub in you. Come."

The three siblings walk together into the dining room. The table is set and they all take a seat. It's like nothing has happened. The fallen human tries to convince themselves that it is real, but outside the window they're facing there's not a shining sun, only darkness and the void.

"Wait, there's someone missing," notices a burly voice. "Didn't Chara come in with you?" He gets a shaking head in respond. "Right, I'll go get them," he says as he leaves.

A moment later he starts arguing with Chara outside the house. Voices are raised, and then a hearty laugh interrupts Chara. Chara's voice stays raised, but they only get nonchalant whistling as an answer.

"Here we are! Now we can finally have a real family dinner," the man proclaims as he places Chara in the last empty chair. Chara responds by sinking down in it.

"No frowns, child. This is supposed to be a happy dinner," comments a woman's voice as she brings in the food from the kitchen.

Chara turns in their chair. "You're not my mom."

"Yes, I am. Now stop frowning and pass along the food."

Chara passes the form to the smaller kid next to them. "I'm not hungry," they try to lie before their stomach tells on them.

"We have a rule at this table," the man reminds.

"Good for you, partner. But since I'm not a part of this family I don't have to follow it," Chara explains to the back of their chair.

"You got your father's mouth," comments the woman.

"No, I have not!" Chara shouts as they slam their hand on the table. "You're not my family! I have a better one."

"Really? Tell us about them," the woman asks with a gently voice.

"Well, for a starter they didn't give me a curse so that puts them way ahead of you right there. They also loved me, treated me with respect. I had a brother, a crybaby of a brother, but still. I filled the Underground with hope."

"Sounds wonderful."

Chara nods. "It was."

The woman can see their child sinking down again. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to," she reassures warmly.

Chara straightens out their back again. "No, why should I tell it to you, complete strangers?"

The form comes back to the man after being shared with table. He stands up and walks over to Chara and gives them a healthy serving.

"I told you, I'm not hungry. I'm not eating this, whatever it is."

"Ghost food," the man explains with a comically ominous voice.

"Stop it, dear," the woman says while failing to hide a laugh. "No, but seriously, eat your food, Chara. I don't want to see my children go hungry."

Chara slams another fist on the plate. It flips in the air and food rains down over the table.

"I'm not your kid! I wasn't treated as one! I wasn't loved!" they scream out. "How can you call me your kid, after all you did?" hey continue as tears starts running on their pinkish red cheeks. "Why? Please explain to me why I should ever consider you my family?" They curl up and bury their face into their legs. "Why?"

Sobs fill the stunned room.

The woman leans towards her husband. "Dear, can you clean that up and get Chara another plate?"

The man nods. "Sure, I'll get us some more water as well while I'm at it."

The woman then turns to the biggest sibling. "Why don't you take your little sister into the living room and help her with her reading?"

"Yeah, sure," he says as he takes his sister's hand and leaves.

"You should stay," the woman says to the fallen human. They nod and sit back down. " And Chara."

"Go away, leave me. Toriel is my mom, not you."

"Chara, I'm so sorry. For all we did. I know it is way too late but please, just let us explain."

Chara mumbles.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."

"OK," they mumble a bit louder as they turn back around. The woman dries off their cheeks.

"Your cheeks are so beautiful. I'm a bit jealous of you having them."

"Is that why you treated us like shit?"

"No cursing, please."

Chara jerks away their head from the woman's grip. "Look who's talking."

The man comes back with a plate and a container of water. He pours a round for the table. Chara takes it with a reluctant hand and drinks deeply. The man refills and they drink again. The third glass stays half empty.

"Chara," the woman starts.

"Why are you only telling me? Why not them?" Chara asks with a finger towards the fallen human. They reply with a furrowed brow. "What? Why aren't you angry as well? Did they apologize to you and not me?"

"Apologize for what? What are you talking about?" the fallen human asks with a confused look.

Chara's face turns red as blood. "Why can't they remember? What did you do to my twin? Do they even remember that I existed?" Chara yells out before stopping. They blink in realization. "Wait, the photograph. You ripped me out of it, didn't you?"

"It was taken after you were out of the picture," the biggest sibling laughs at his own joke. "Why else would I be in it? You know, the adopted son that filled in your gap."

"You're supposed to help your sister," retorts the man.

"I am, but reading is not very loud, and Chara is."

"Wait, stop. What does Chara mean by me being their twin? I would've remember it. I mean, I would, right?" the fallen human tries to explain. They put their head in their hands. "I don't know who I am anymore. What memories are really mine. Are you even real or is this just me dying? I'm so confused."

"You have every right to be. How about we start from the beginning so that we end up on the same page?" the man asks while rubbing the fallen human's shoulder. He gets a weak nod in return. "You and Chara came to us at a rough period in our lives. That doesn't excuse our actions, but it might help you understand them. Almost immediately we lost control, be it because of your curse or our ineptitude as parents, perhaps both."

"How did you find out about the curse?" the fallen human asks.

"Like the pastor told you at the trial, there are signs that can manifest in the presence of magic, and on a field trip we took up on Mt. Ebott you two disappeared into that cave. When we finally found you deep inside it you..." The man pauses to collect himself. "You attacked us, with glowing red eyes. With panic in our hearts we rushed you to the hospital, but when we got there your determination had disappeared. The pastor took notice and he told us about the curse and what it meant. Combine that with our financial troubles we broke down. We couldn't love you anymore, we tried so hard but every time we looked at you we just saw the curse waiting to strike. One day Chara found out about the barrier, I don't know how."

"I gave a shit, unlike you," Chara retorts angrily.

"One morning I got a call. A situation that had been plaguing me for as long as I could remember was finally solved. I felt renewed and for the first time in forever, I wanted to hug you. I wanted to tell my kids that we could finally be a family. I rushed to your room to give you the news, but you were gone. I found a note that said that Chara and you would enter the Underground and learn magic so that you could control your curse. My heart sank, and I rushed back downstairs to grab your mother, and together we traveled as quickly as we could to the mountain. We found the cave again and called for you over and over, but we didn't get a single answer. We only found you, Chara was nowhere to be seen. You were bleeding from your head, as if you'd hit your head on a rock or something."

"As they always do," Chara comments.

"With heavy hearts we took you to the hospital and put out a notice for Chara, but no one could find anything."

"That's because I was in the Underground with a family that loved me, I had no reason to go back," Chara reminds the table.

"You survived your injury, but your memory didn't," the man continues. "You woke up thinking you were our only child."

"You didn't try to tell them about me?" Chara asks with their hands on their chest.

The man turns to Chara. "We did, but they wouldn't accept it. They thought we were joking with them. We tried and we tried, but eventually we gave up. We missed you Chara, never doubt that, but we had to continue with our lives. We moved back to this house and adopted a new sibling to stop people from questioning why we only had one kid. Everything went smoothly until the day that monster came back with you."

Chara turns their back towards the table.

"Could you tell us what happened, Chara?" the man asks.

"Why would I?"

"Because you're our kid, and we want to know what happened to you."

Chara's shoulders sink. "It was me," they start with their back still facing the table. "My brother and I."

"I don't remember doing anything with you," says the biggest sibling from the living room.

"My real brother, Asriel," Chara growls back.

"Oh, sorry."

"Idiot," Chara comments with a rude gesture. "We had a plan to save the monsters, seven human souls and one monster soul would create a being strong enough to break the barrier, and then some. But a fusion between one human and one monster could travel through the barrier so we did just that." Chara examines their hands. "We were so strong, my brother and I, but when he saw my body he broke down. I felt him crying inside our shared body. I offered to take control and to carry on alone, but he refused. I picked up my body and carried it to my favorite spot."

"The patch of flowers?"

"Yes, I put my body down as Asriel kept crying inside of us. He'd almost forgotten why we did this. I slashed the first human I saw and I felt my determination rise. I was ready to do whatever it took to save the monsters. Another human came at me and I attacked him as well. He did manage to dodge a bit, but I still laid a claw on him. Then I, I saw-"

"Me," the fallen human finishes.

"I felt that I hit something small and as I turned around I saw your body. Your soul was leaving you and in that moment of shock Asriel regained control and fled with my corpse back to the Underground where we, um, died."

"I tried my best to heal you," explains the man to the fallen human, "but my magic wasn't strong enough, and because of that a piece of your soul disappeared. I thought I had lost you, but miraculously you survived that as well."

"Except now they have a broken soul," Chara adds.

"That why Asgore couldn't heal me?" the fallen human realizes.

"The fight you had with Flowey didn't involve any magic attacks, just physical. Your soul needs a lot of magic to open up and since healing magic is technically an attack Asgore couldn't heal you," Chara explains.

"I see, I think. But didn't Toriel heal my finger?"

"There's a huge difference between fixing ruptured lungs and mending a small paper cut. You don't need your soul for everything, you know."

"I guess I do need it now though. Dad, where did you learn magic?"

"I found the barrier, or at least my soul did it. Once we returned from the hospital with you I arranged a search party to try to find Chara. We searched the cave and somehow I spotted the barrier. Something stirred inside me and I felt power flow through me." The man takes a knife out and cuts his hand. He covers it with his other and green energy flows into the wound, closing it.

"I guess I became addicted to it a bit so I didn't tell the others what I had found," the man continues. "I returned many times after with your mother, but only I reacted to it. I first discovered that I could heal when I hit my hand with a hammer. I caressed my finger and noticed that it turned green and warmth enveloped it. After some more time at the barrier I could control it. I kept it secret from everyone except your mother up until the monster attack."

"Mom, you know any magic?"

"No, I tried but it seems that I'm just human," she laughs.

"What do you mean by that?" asks the man.

She gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Nothing, dear."

The table sits in silence, taking in everything that's been said. The fallen human leans back after using the silence to think for a while. "What a mess."

"Yup," agrees the man, "but what can we do?"

"Finish our dinner?" suggests the woman.

"Chara?" wonders the fallen human.

"Only with you, not with them," Chara answers.

"That's OK, I can't expect you to forgive us," says the woman. "Kids, you can come in now."

The table is once again filled and for the first time ever the family eats together.

The meal is finished in silence and a yawn escapes the fallen human as they finish their water.

"Go upstairs with Chara, get some shut eye. You both deserve it. We'll clean this up," promises the man as he pats the fallen human's back.

"Sure, I'm exhausted. Chara?" the fallen human says after another yawn. The child yawns as well and nods. They take their sibling's hand and walk up the stairs.

They crawl in bed together and Chara closes their eyes. The fallen human closes theirs as well. A warm feeling envelops them and they feel their body relax. The door squeaks silently.

"Goodnight, kids. We're so proud of you. Don't worry, we'll take care of you both, for once."

Asriel bleats as the human lunges up gasping for air. Frisk falls over as the soul in their hand is retracted into its home. The human breathes greedily for a bit before taking in their surroundings. They spot the child next to them.

"Frisk?" they ask it. The child nods and the human embraces them,. "Thank you, Frisk! Thank you for saving me!" They release Frisk and turn around. "You must be Asriel."

The small goat nods as well. "It's nice to meet you, but you should probably leave before I-" Asriel stops as he see his hand fading away into dust. "Go! Now! Before I hurt you!"

"Asriel, we'll come back! Frisk and I. We'll find a way to get you back," the fallen human promises.

"No, forget about me! Run away. Please, I don't want to kill you! Don't tell mom or dad that I was alive," Asriel shouts at the humans. A sickly looking liquid escapes this mouth and he falls down on the flowers.

"Get away from me, you idiots," he warns again with an ominous voice that's filled with hatred. A vine shoots out from his convulsing body, but the humans both dodge it in the last second. Frisk tugs at the fallen human and with heavy hearts they both run for the door.

They leave the small goat crying in pain as they run through the ruined corridor. Another vine shoots up beneath them and Frisk falls. The fallen human catches them and continue on while almost dragging Frisk behind them. They remember the puzzles and navigate through them with ease. The withered tree stands as it did the last time they were in the Underground, and the fallen human uses it to block an attacking vine.

An opportunity opens up and they run towards the house behind the tree. With an aching shoulder they slam open the door and close it with equal force. Frisk squirms free and runs into the living room. They shove Sans off the sofa and wake him up. "sup, kiddo. who is this?"

"Hi, skelebro, it's good to see you and all, but we need to shortcut out of here," answers the fallen human.

"um, sure. why though?"

Heavy thuds crash against the door.

"Flowey is two steps behind us. Take us to the surface. Quickly."

Sans looks down at a nodding Frisk. He shrugs his shoulders.

"sure, whatever." He takes both of the humans hands. "you're gonna need to explain this to me later, kiddo."

A breeze passes by and the sun surprises all three of them.

"wow, sure it beautiful up here," Sans comments.

"Yup, where are the others?" the fallen human asks.

"frisk said something about a house close by, i think they went there."

The fallen human points towards the edge of the town under them. "You can see it from here, it's the big one closest to the mountain. Shortcut us there?"

Sans turns to Frisk. "you've got a lot of explaining to do."

Another cold gust of air later the trio stands in front of a wild lawn.

"this yours? looks dusty, why is that?" Sans asks with black eyes.

"Because I'm family with your old acquaintance."

Sans looks at Frisk again. "a lot of explaining, kiddo."

"Later. First let's eat some of your brother's famous spaghetti," the fallen human suggests as they hold the door for Frisk and Sans.

Sans stops. "ok, now i'm a bit scared."

"Now you know how it feels," the human laughs and pats Sans on their back.

They enter the dining room interrupting Alphys' and Undyne talking about anime. They follow the human with their eyes wide open and jaws on the floor. The human seats themselves next to Undyne.

"No jogging this time I'm afraid, Undyne. Is Papyrus in the kitchen?"

Undyne nods and the human excuses themselves. They walk to Papyrus and lower the heat on the spaghetti and the sauce. "So that you don't burn the meat and my house, also add some oil to the spaghetti."

"THANK YOU, NEWLY BEFRIENDED HUMAN!"

"Always a pleasure to help the great Papyrus."

"THE FIRST HUMAN I MEET ON THE SURFACE IS IN MY FAN CLUB! THIS TRULY IS THE BEST ENDING!"

"You can make it better by giving the spaghetti a bit of a stir," the fallen human suggests.

"ANYTHING FOR A FAN!"

The human returns to an even bewildered table. "Spaghetti should be ready any moment now. Undyne, can you inform the royals?"

"Yeah, sure," she says with an unsteady voice. The human sits down and looks out the window. The sun is shining birghtly.

"What do you mean the human knows magic, Undyne?" Asgore's voice questions from the hallway. Undyne helps Asgore lift the sofa to the table before they all take a seat a the table.

"You must be the human that owns this house, it is very beautiful. Thank you for letting us stay in it for the night," Toriel says with a bow.

"No problem, Toriel."

She widens her eyes in surprise. "Oh, you know our names?"

"See, I told you, this human has magic!" Undyne shouts.

"Golly, this is a surprise. I thought humans abandoned magic," Asgore wonders while stroking his beard.

"No, I don't have magic. I just know you even though you don't know me."

"Then I hope we can get to know you as good as you seem to know us," Toriel says with the same warmth as she had the first time they met.

Your overworked microwave ding and the dining room goes quiet.

"BREAD IS DONE! NOW EVERYONE! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BESTOW UNTO YOU THIS MAGNIFICENT SPAGHETTI!" Papyrus proudly proclaims as he enters with a big pot. It smells nice, he listened to your suggestions, again. He serves the table with glee.

"Wow, Papyrus, this is really good," says a surprised Undyne.

"THE HUMAN HELPED ME! THE BIG ONE THAT IS!"

"No problem, Pap," the big human smiles as they swallow.

"You know so much of us yet we know nothing about you? Who are you?" Asgore asks.

The fallen human lifts another fork of spaghetti. "Family."

"And what's your name?"

The human swallows and the cooked spaghetti goes down without any hiccups.

"My name? I'm Aofil."


	31. Once again, but this time different

Aofil peeks their head out the window. "Undyne, before you start, could you collect the cut grass in the corner that's not occupied by the apple tree."

Undyne nods with a smile before conjuring up a scythe. "Grass, you have three seconds to shrink before I make the decision for you!" she threatens as her scythe cracks with magical energy.

To her credit she did give the grass three seconds before descending upon it with a maniacal laugh and an endless lust for a properly maintained lawn. Aofil laughs at the spectacle and cheer on Undyne whilst cleaning the dishes. Upstairs Papyrus is fighting a similar battle with the dust rabbits.

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO EXPEL YOU FROM THIS HUMAN'S DOMICILE! OBEY MY COMMAND, OR FACE THE WRATH OF THIS CLEANER OF VACUUM CHARACTERISTICS!" he states with a prideful voice that finds its way down the flight of stairs and into the kitchen.

Aofil empties out the dishwater and places the last plate among its brethren. They fill two water bottles and bring them to Alphys and Frisk.

“Oh, h-how did you know?” Alphys ask as she is handed the water.

Aofil gives the other bottle to Frisk. ”I just thought that you might want to have something to drink.” They smile to Alphys. “Call it a gut feeling,” they wink to Frisk.

“no water for me?” Sans enters. ”i know that i’m a skeleton, but i still like to have a glass from time to time.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder, “my bro wanted to talk with you, alphys.”

Alphys tilts her head curiously. ”Me? Why me?” She pushes up her glasses. “What could Papyrus want with me?”

Sans puts his thumb back into his jacket. “i don’t know, didn’t ask him.”

After some thinking on Alphys’ part she stands up and waddles out to the hallway and up the stairs. Sans slouches down on the dusty sofa and some dust flies up.

Aofil sees Sans’ hand emerge from his pocket. ”If you’re gonna run your finger against the top of the sofa and then blow away the dust I’m gonna smack you,” they firmly inform the skeleton.

Sans' hand stop and snuggles back down into his pocket. “see, this is why i asked alphys to leave.”

Aofil fetches a chair from the dining room. “Didn’t Frisk explain?” they shout back into the living room. ”Or is there anything else you’re wondering about?” Aofil places the chair in front of the sofa and seat themselves on it backwards with their arms hanging over the back. ” Because I sure as hell am. So, do you want to start or should I?”

Sans glances at Frisk before clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic about it,” Aofil comments.

“it all started with me making a promise to a door,” Sans starts as he leans even further back into the sofa. ”the promise turned out to one of my less brilliant of moves, believe it or not.”

“How so?”

Sans snaps his finger towards Frisk. ”this one right here, or, as they told me,” he retracts his hand, “the one in their head.”

Aofil nods. “Your old acquaintance.”

“yup, we had a, confrontation, of sorts.”

Frisk walks away.

“I guess things didn’t end very well between you two.”

Frisk puts their hands over their ears.

“is it ok if i spare you the details?”

“Sure.” Aofil scratches their arm as they remember the Flowey fight. Their scars may not be there physically now because of the reset, but Aofil still feels them. “I’m sure I can survive without them.”

“good, because frisk didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, you don’t remember it?”

“there was something nagging at the back of my head when i first saw them,” Sans explains with a flurry of his hand. “when i first remember seeing them,” he corrects with an upraised finger. “they told me what happened, and that this time they would save us. they stayed true to their word and i was inclined to believe them.”

Sans nods towards the hunched up kid. “frisk saved us, frisk saved us all. i’m not sure what made their change their mind or if they managed to push back the voice in their head.” He sits up straight. “speaking of that, you said you were family with them.”

Aofil nods again. “Yup, I’m their twin, curse and all. Apparently.”

Sans tilts his head up. ”what curse?”

“Don’t you remember?” Aofil snaps their fingers. “Oh, right, you weren’t there, at the trial.”

“trial?”

“You know, the trial,” Aofil tries one more time.

Sans’ pupils shrink leaving only two dark holes in his head. He turns to Frisk. ”so, you did it again.”

Aofil steps in between Frisk and Sans with a stern foot and leg. “Frisk didn’t do it just for giggles. They had no choice. It was a,” Aofil pauses as images before the reset flash before them, “it was a slaughter, everyone was dead. Frisk had to reset. I don’t know how I would live otherwise after seeing Toriel crumble in my hands.”

Sans pupils return. “dang, sounds like they had a good reason.”

Aofil sit themselves down again on the chair and runs a hand through their hair. “You have no idea how much I wanted to throw myself into Toriel’s arms when I saw her today.”

“we’re you two,” Sans giggles to himself, “close?”

Aofil throws a disapproving look towards Sans. “She melted away in my hands.”

Sans tone drops. “oh, i see.”

“I still want to do it, but I don’t know how she’ll react.”

Frisk tightens their grip on their own legs.

“Heck,” Aofil smiles. “I even wanted to hug you, Sans, despite everything.”

“and what do you mean by that?”

“Let’s just say that you’re easy to see through, my bony friend, more so now than before.”

Sans throws up his hand flats up over his shoulder. ”what can i say? i leave an impression.”

The sound of the void blasting Sans into dust returns to Aofil. “Yeah, you can say that. So, what now? We continue? Should I do the same things I did or?”

Sans shrugs. “no idea, guess that is up to you.” He jerks his head towards Frisk. “frisk chose to save the monsters after their reset.”

“I mean, I’ve already improved your brother’s cooking,” Aofil chuckles. “so I guess that I’m on the same path.”

Sans nods, and falls asleep.

Aofil walks over to Frisk and sit down to Frisk’s level. They put a careful hand on Frisk’s shoulder, and Frisk seats themselves on Aofil’s knees.

“Listen, Frisk, is Chara still there, with you?

Frisk puts a hand on their chest and nods.

“Can I talk to them?”

Frisk shakes their head.

“Can you talk to them?”

Frisk shakes their head again.

Aofil nods weakly. “I see...” They think quietly for a bit. ”What should I do now? This reset, what does it mean for me?”

Frisk smiles and gives Aofil a hug. Aofil returns it.

“Alright, kiddo. I understand, I’ll be good.” They put down Frisk. “So, you’ve done this before? This reset thing?”

Frisk wrings their shirt and looks down.

“But you did it to be good?”

Frisk looks up at Aofil with pleading eyes and nods. Aofil picks them up again. Frisk grips the back of Aofil shirt. “Don’t worry, Frisk, I believe you, we all do,“ Aofil comforts with a rub on Frisk’s back. “From what I’ve heard you’re the sweetest angel there is.”

Aofil drums on Frisk’s head a bit after saying that though. “But, even angels have their dark sides, right?” They feel Frisk grip tighten. “That is in the past though?” Frisk nods into Aofil's shoulder and Aofil puts them down again. “Or the future? I don’t know, this whole reset thing is messing with my head.”

Despite that they ruffle Frisk’s hair playfully. “Still, good to know that you used your power for the better. Thank you, again.”

The patio door opens and Undyne steps in, sweat and grass covers her body. A blue scythe dissipates as she enters. "Mind if I use your shower?"

Aofil releases Frisk. "Would I have to fight you if I said no?"

Undyne smiles and a couple of straws fall off. “You humans do that? You fight for the right to shower? Cool!”

Aofil breathes through their teeth as they realize their mistake. ”Oh, um, no, I mean. You’re the leader of the Royal Guard and all, I thought you’d appreciate my joke.”

Undyne stretches and more grass flutters down on the kitchen floor. “Can’t remember telling you my job.”

Aofil body tenses up and their head conjures up a myriad of lies to try to save the situation, but none is good enough. They hum in panic.

Undyne stands up and lifts her arms up over her head before shaking herself loose. “But I think I know why you did?” She flexes and laughs heartily.

Aofil’s sigh of relief could knock down trees and they laugh with Undyne. ”Yup, only a high ranking officer could cut grass this elegantly.”

Undyne rolls her shoulder. “Does that mean that I can use your shower?” she asks again.

Crisis averted! Hopefully. Aofil nods and motions for the stairs. “Go right ahead.”

Undyne nods and heads up to the upper floor. Aofil shakes their head. Too close.

“Gotta be careful,” they sigh out. “Did you have the same problem with talking about things you remembered, but they didn’t, Frisk?”

They get a blank stare in response.

“Right, sorry.”

They both return to the living room as Alphys steps in.

“Sans, Papyrus said that he didn’t send for me,” she asks the sleeping skeleton.

“he likes to have company when he cleans,” Sans answers with his eyes still closed.

“So why weren’t you with him?”

Sans nestles back into the sofa. “you ever try to sleep with a vacuum cleaner next to your ear?”

“Sans, you don’t have any-”

“because it sucks,” Sans interrupts.

Alphys face sinks into a tired frown. She shakes it loose and waves over Frisk. ”Toriel said that we should finish your homework.”

“They’re here?” Aofil asks. “Toriel and Asgore? Aren’t they at the,” Aofil manages to catch their mouth in the last second, “at the, uh, I don’t know.”

“Upstairs?” Alphys asks with a perplexed look.

“Yeah, upstairs.”

“Yes, they are.”

Aofil nods with a sheepish smile. ”Good.”

“Anything you wanted with them?” She points to the roof. “I mean, you can see where they are.”

Aofil looks up and sees that the roof is bending from Asgore and Toriel’s combined weight. “Oh, would you look at that. Not sure if I like that this is happening. Still,” they give Alphys a thumbs up, “now I know.”

Alphys looks at Sans, and then at Frisk, and then back at Aofil, still with the same foolish grin. ” Y-yeah, now you know.”

Aofil nods deeply. “Yes I do.”

An uneasy silence hangs in the air for a couple of awkward seconds. “Excuse me for a moment,” Aofil asks of Alphys before leaving for the kitchen. There they curse their stupidity as quiet as they can. They debate whether or not to smack their head with the frying pan so that they can forget and be on equal footing. They decide against it, but only barely.

“did something kitch your eye?” Sans cracks as Aofil returns.

“No, I just had to do something.”

“really?”

“Yeah, something human.”

“and what would that be?”

“For being a skeleton without one,” Aofil taps theirs, “you’re very nosy, Sans.”

Sans giggles and returns back to sleep. Aofil seats themselves next to Sans.

With a hairband in her teeth Undyne rounds the corner from the hallway. ”Hello, nerds. You’re doing your homework, Frisk?” She mounts the band in her hair. “Already? Can't Toriel give you a day or so?”

Frisk and Alphys nods without looking up.

“See, Frisk, you need to carry the two,” Alphys reminds Frisk. Both their heads are deep in Frisk’s homework.

Undyne rolls her eye and falls down on the sofa, causing Sans to jump in the air a bit. She slides down until her neck is on the edge of the back.

“I’m bored,” she says after a while. She huffs and her fingers starts wandering on her leg. She attacks them with her other hand, but she abandons it quickly. Her fingers instead tap gently on her leg. They move in a way that’s familiar to Aofil. They look up at Undyne.

“You never told me you could do that,” they half accuse with a half disappointed look.

Undyne stops mid crescendo. ”Do what?”

Aofil nods for the hallway. “Follow me.”

Undyne follows with a mix between confusion and anticipation.

The basement is quite stuffed. A darkened spot indicates where Asgore’s sofa used to be. Aofil flicks the light switch and Undyne follows them down the stairs.

“Sorry that we took your sofa, Asgore didn’t want to risk ruining the one in the living room,” Undyne explains, “it looks very expensive and the one down here wasn’t that fancy too be honest.” She flashes a worried smile. “Not that the one down here was ugly or anything it was just that,” she backtracks.

Aofil laughs and waves it off. “Don’t worry, Asgore promised to compensate. Help me locate it.”

Undyne peers over the unsorted sea of stuff. “Look for what?”

Aofil smiles at Undyne. “The piano.”

Undyne’s eyes explode with glee and her mouth stretches a smile across her entire face. She grabs Aofil by the shoulders and lifts them up to her face. “You didn’t tell me you had a freaking piano!”

Aofil blows Undyne’s hair out of their face. “You didn’t tell me you could play!” Undyne puts them down. “After all this time.”

Aofil fails to catch their mouth again, but Undyne’s too busy scanning for the piano to notice.

“Look for a white sheet,” advises Aofil as they help with the search.

“I see it!” Undyne exclaims. “It’s in the back.”

“Great, let’s clear a path so that we can move it without scraping,” Aofil suggest.

“We?” Undyne rolls up her sleeves. “Watch and learn, whelp.”

She pushes the, to her, debris out of the way and the sound it makes forces Aofil to cover their ears. Undyne is unfazed and marches on, creating a ravine of old furniture and boxes. She rips off the sheet covering the piano and dust falls down like confetti before a concert.

She runs her hands gently over the lid and when they reach the end she opens it. She plays a couple of notes and shakes her head in disappointment. She opens the top and to her delight she finds a tuning lever. She closes the top and walks around the piano.

Aofil is a bit taken back seeing their old piano floating in the air. Strained exhales comes from it and Aofil scurries up the stairs. They’re soon followed by the piano and Undyne.

“Where do you want it?”

Aofil moves a table out of the way in the living room, and with a silence that’s out of place, Undyne places it down with ease. She wipes off her forehead before rubbing her hands in anticipation. She grabs a chair and leans into the piano and begins her tinkering.

“HUMAN! YOUR HOUSE IS NOW HALF CLEANED!”

Undyne jumps as the voice comes from right behind her. Her head hits the top of the piano and it falls down on her. She massages her head and snap her eyes to Papyrus. She pouts her lips in frustration, but Papyrus just smiles at her.

“WOW, A PIANO! DID YOU BRING YOURS WITH YOU TO THE SURFACE, UNDYNE?” Papyrus asks with his hand on his chin.

Undyne lunges at Papyrus and they end up brawling on the floor. Aofil runs to the shelf and holds it up as a stray shoulder hits it. It sways, but they manage to keep it up. They look to Alphys for help, but she’s curled up with Frisk, and her own tail against the sofa. Aofil calls for Sans, but they only get a snore in response.

A stern hawk freezes the fighters in place. They turn to the source of the voice and see Toriel with her arms crossed and her look even sterner than her voice. Asgore walks up to her a moment later.

“Asgore, your ‘Royal Guard’ is destroying the human’s home. Get them under control.”

Asgore looks at the destruction, a ruffled carpet. Toriel came just in time, Undyne and Papyrus were heading for the shelf again. He straightens out the carpet with his foot, with Papyrus and Undyne still on it. Undyne scrambles up on her feet and salutes. Papyrus follows suit.

“Undyne, new chapter,” Asgore reminds with a fair but disciplining voice. ”No destroying of the human’s property.”

Undyne takes a knee. “Yes, my king. Sorry, my king.”

Papyrus kneels as well. “YES, FROM ME TOO!”

“Good, continue with what you did.”

“MY KING?”

“Yes, Papyrus.”

“I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO RETURN TOO!”

“Besides scaring me on purpose?” Undyne snarls.

“Why don’t you help Toriel with preparing the dessert?” Asgore suggests.

Papyrus salutes again and marches into the kitchen. Undyne walks over to the piano again, mumbling something about Papyrus and her spear. She dives back down the piano to continue her tuning.

“Wasn’t really that bad,” Asgore whispers to Toriel. She huffs in response and makes her way to the kitchen.

“You done with your homework, my child?” she asks over her shoulder to Frisk.

Frisk nods as they climb out of Alphys embrace. Alphys grabs a chair and pulls out a manga from her lab coat.

“Shall we prepare the tea then?”

Toriel takes Frisk hand and joins Papyrus in the kitchen. Aofil carefully releases the shelf and sighs out their relief. Asgore nods to himself and returns upstairs.

“did it go this well the first time?” Sans comments as Aofil lands heavily on the couch.

“I don’t know if I like this reset.”

Sans eye harden on Aofil.

Aofil puts up their hands. “I’m kidding, relax.”

The sound of out of tune piano keys, annoyed grunts from Undyne, and a busy kitchen stays in the house for a good while before Undyne slams down the top of the piano with a grin. She runs her hands across the piano keys and laughs excitingly as they’re all in tune. She sits down in front of it and pops her fingers and neck. Aofil and Alphys lean forward with eager suspense.

One finger massages a key, and then another. The fingers on her other hand count the elevated keys before finding the right one. Both hands play in harmony, and a serene melody emerges from the dusty instrument. Her fingers dance on the ivories and her body moves with every note played. Her eye drifts close as she becomes one with the music. The tempo shifts and her movements becomes more rapid. Her fingers press down harder and the sharper tones increase in volume.

The kitchen is silenced as Undyne’s art fills the house. Her fingers seem to move on their own, each one finding the right key without any guidance from Undyne herself. Her body tenses up and her arms move in bursts. Still, she hits all the right notes.

A brief pause hangs in the air before Undyne shoulders sinks. Three heads peek around the dining room corner. Undyne’s eye opens and a concerned expression blossoms on her face. Despite the afternoon sun filling the room with glistening light as it bounces off the piano, the mellow song coming from the piano drowns the room in dread and worry. The song speaks of something terrible, yet it is beautiful, and among the sad notes is a feeling of warm nostalgia.

Undyne scans her hands to make sure that the hope stays alive, how small it may sound. She lowers her head as she feels the dread taking over. She fights it valiantly, but she knows that it is a losing battle. Despite that she continues to fight. Her audience watch her in silence as they see her exhausting herself to keep the hope alive. They wish that they could help her, but they also know that this is a battle she has to fight on her own and that they’re powerless to help her.

Asgore enters the room and his eyes locks with Toriel’s. She shakes her head quietly, and returns her focus Undyne. Asgore does so as well.

As Undyne’s arms grow weak there’s a pause. She looks around and force herself up from her hunched over position. A determined grin breeds new life into her fingers and with newfound strength they oppose the dread. Like a beacon on a starless night she crushes the darkness with her light.

She weaves her hopes and dreams into the song and the dread whimpers as the inspiring sounds of her playing causes a roaring cheer from her audience. She laughs as the void pleads for mercy and newfound energy embraces her. She once again moves with the notes and every key press sends out waves of joy throughout the house.

She realizes that she’s won and with a final verse of victory she lets the music go back to sleep now that the evil’s been purged. Although the day is saved, the dread still lingers. She ends it with a final reminder that it is all a memory, a distant memory. A final keystroke begs her not to play this song again. She doesn’t know if she can make that promise.

Silence fills the vacuum that’s created after Undyne’s performance. The sound of two small hands hitting each other scares the silence away. The clapping spreads and soon a roaring applause causes Undyne cheeks to blush. She stands up and bows to her crowd.

Aofil leans closer to Sans. “Can I take back what I said earlier?”

“don’t you mean, reset what you said?”

Aofil smiles as they shake their head. “We’ll see, skelebro, we’ll see.”


	32. Storm's a brewin'

Toriel lowers her chin towards Frisk. "My child, are you sure that you want to come with us?"

Frisk nods.

"There's gonna be a lot of boring grown up talk."

Frisk grabs Toriel's hand with a steadfast grip.

Asgore opens the door. "Don't worry, dear."

"Asgore," replies Toriel with a cold tone.

"Sorry, don’t worry, Toriel," Asgore ruffles Frisk's hair, "our little ambassador is gonna be just fine."

"Ambassador, eh?" Aofil chuckles.

"Well," Asgore starts.

"Ambassador for the humans to the monster," Aofil asks with one hand, "or for the monsters to the human?" they ask with the other.

"Our ambassador," Toriel corrects.

"I see. Oh, before you leave, there was something I," Aofil snaps their fingers to help them think, "something about you leaving," they tilt their head in thought. "Oh, right."

They fetch the over sized sunglasses and hand them to Toriel.

"Why, thank you," she smiles as she puts them on.

"I thought that after a thousand years underground the sun might sting a bit."

"That's very sweet of you. It does."

"I'll see if I can get you a pair too, Asgore."

He snickers as he sees Toriel's accessorized visage. An eyebrow rises up from behind the darkened glass and he chuckles a bit harder. "I'd love a pair, Aofil. Don’t worry, I'll compensate you for them."

“Speak nothing of it. Good luck with the mayor,” Aofil wishes.

Asgore’s chuckle stops. “How do you know?”

Aofil takes an old cane and thuds it against the ceiling. “Thin roof,” they lie. “You’ve nothing to fear though, my lips are sealed, I promise,” they don’t lie.

Asgore nods. ”Thank you.”

“Again, speak nothing of it. See you at lunch.”

Aofil waves them goodbye and returns to the living room. They stop in the middle of the room, something is nagging them in the back of their head, something they forgot to say. Can’t be the sunglasses, what else?

The sound of wood being scraped causes Aofil’s shoulders to sink.

“Oh, dear,” comments a deep voice.

Aofil walks back to the hallway. Two round holes stare at them from atop the door frame.

“I’m so sorry, Aofil!”

Aofil is forced to try and hide their smile. “It’s OK, Toriel. Don’t worry about it.”

“I, it was these glasses. I didn’t realize,” she promises with a worried voice.

Aofil spots Asgore also trying to contain his own laugh, and they start to lose control over their own grin. They return their eyes to Toriel.

“We’ll compensate you for it. Won’t we, Asgore?” Toriel assures. She turns to Asgore for approval and he freezes up as to not let his laugh escape.

“Of course,” Asgore forces out.

Aofil let’s their smile form a bit to get better control over it. “No problem. Go, before you run late.”

Toriel ducks deeply as she leaves and Asgore follows. Frisk jumps to get closer to the frame, but they don’t get anywhere near. Aofil closes the door behind them and lets their laughter out.

“something grabbed your funny bone?”

“More like, scraped against it,“ Aofil explains as they dry of a tear. “Anything on the agenda today?”

Sans leans further down into the sofa. “nope, yesterday was very hectic so i’m thinking about taking it nice and easy today.”

“A Sans day, fair enough. Where are the others?”

“undyne is”

The sound of water rushing up the pipes in the wall interrupts Sans.

“showering.”

“Figures. Alphys?”

“probably reading while waiting her turn.”

“Papyrus?”

“outside.”

“Doing what?”

Sans closes his eye and his smiles widens. ”why don’t you ask him?”

Aofil shrugs and heads for the patio door.

“Papyrus.”

“YES, AOFIL?”

Why is he?

“Why are you in my apple tree?”

Papyrus’s head emerges from the crown. “SURVEYING!” His head pops back in.

Aofil shakes theirs in disbelief and walks over to the rustling tree. “Pray tell, oh great Papyrus, what are you surveying inside my apple tree?” They sidestep a downpour of leafs as Papyrus’ head emerges once again from the thick crown.

“APPLES!”

Aofil rolls their eyes. “Should’ve guessed. What do you plan on using the apples for?”

“SPAGHETTI!”

Even a blind man could’ve seen that coming.

“YOU SEE, AOFIL! IN ONE OF YOUR HUMAN COOKBOOKS I READ THAT TOMATOES ARE IN FACT, A FRUIT!” Papyrus explains as his mittens pops out from the sea of leaves. “AND SINCE YOU CAN MAKE SPAGHETTI OUT OF TOMATO!”

“You figured you’d cook some with apples instead,” Aofil finishes. Papyrus nods and dives back in. “I’m not sure you’ll find any apples here, there’s two small ones at the back of it but-”

Papyrus jumps down and a small avalanche of apples fall out of his armor. “THERE IS? THANK YOU, HUMAN!”

“Where did you find all of these?” Aofil asks as they pick up a handful of apples. They’re not store bought, that’s for sure.

Papyrus laughs in glee as he picks the apples from the back of the tree. He thanks Aofil, and scoops up the rest of the apples before skipping inside the house.

“No, seriously! The apples, where did you find them?” Aofil tries again, sternly, as they close the patio door behind them.

“I WAS ON A MORNING JOG WITH UNDYNE EARLIER TODAY!”

Uh oh.

“AND I TOLD HER THAT I WANTED TO IMPROVE MY COOKING!” Papyrus explains as he searches for the biggest pot he can find. “SHE LAUGHED IN MY FACE AND TOLD ME THAT YESTERDAY WAS LUCK!” He finds one and places it on the stove. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, THANKED HER FOR HER ENCOURAGEMENT!”

The rumbling of apples being poured into the pot catches Sans attention and he enters the kitchen. He looks at Aofil, but Aofil just shrugs.

“WE SAW SOME TREES AND I TOLD HER MY IDEA!”

“How did she react?”

Papyrus finds a potato press and starts working on the apples. “SHE SHOWED HER TONGUE FOR ME!”

“Did she? Really?”

“YES, HUMAN! SHE DOES IT ALL THE TIME, ESPECIALLY FOR ALPHYS!

Aofil feels a smirk form. “Mhm.”

“ALPHYS ALWAYS BLUSHES AND LAUGHS WHEN UNDYNE’S STICKS HER TONGUE OUT TOWARDS HER!” He leans his head on his hand. “IT MUST BE A SECRET HANDSHAKE OF SORTS!”

Sans gives Aofil a worried look.

“Uh, Papyrus, tell you what, I’ll ask them,” Aofil promises with a pat on Papyrus’ back. “so you can focus on your cooking.”

“WOWIE, THANK YOU!”

Sans breathes out and beckons for Aofil to join him in the dining room.

“that was a bit, close. my brother is cool and all, but he’s a bit.”

“Naive?”

“innocent,” Sans corrects with a lowered brow.

“Right.”

A heavy knock causes the front door to shake. “That’s weird,” Aofil thinks out loud. “They shouldn’t be here for at least a couple of hours.”

With a quizzical look that turns into panic Aofil sees people standing outside their door. Angry people. Angry human people. The door knocks again, just as hard, and Aofil rushes to Sans.

“There are humans at the door. Hide!” they stage whisper. 

“humany?”

“I don’t know, three or four. Doesn’t matter, get Papyrus and yourself out of sight. Oh, and tell him to lower the heat. I can smell the apples burning.”

Aofil bolts up the stairs and almost crashes into Alphys.

“Get in there with Undyne!” they again whisper loudly.

“W-what?”

Aofil rattles the handle, but Undyne doesn’t answer. They rush back down and to their delight Sans and Papyrus is nowhere to be found. As they reach the patio they take a handful gravel and throw it against the bathroom window. After couple of increasingly harder throws the window finally opens and the confused head of Undyne peeks out with her wet hair hanging over her face.

“Humans, at the door,” Aofil explains with a risky volume to their voice. ”Get Alphys in there with you.”

Undyne flashes a smile and closes the window.

Aofil throws back the gravel on the ground and breathes out before deciding to finally answer the door.

“Hey!” They’re stopped with one foot inside the house by a voice from around the corner. “I need to talk to you!” Aofil steps back and see the human lawyer from the trial along with two other humans that they don’t recognize.

Not good! What to do? Aofil mind proposes an idea. A very, very bad idea. In fact, it’s horrible, but as the human lawyer walks closer Aofil decides to roll with it. They need to keep their friends hidden, for now.

“Howdy,” Aofil welcomes. The human lawyer stops for a second but shakes the word off.

“There’s been reports of apple thieves in the area, you’ve seen any?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Nope.”

“Really? You sure?”

“What do you mean by that?”

The human lawyer motions for the open window over the stove. ”Because I can smell you cooking apples from a block away?”

Aofil licks their finger and feel that the wind blows towards Mt. Ebott, away from the city. ”Sure. But, unfortunately I have to disappoint you because you see, I bought those apples,” Aofil lies with an innocent smile.

The human lawyer leans on the wooden fence. “Do you have a receipt?”

Aofil puts their hands on the front of their pants with their thumbs inside their pants. “No, I don’t, partner.”

The human lawyer flinches back again, but recovers with a furrowed brow. “So, you’re cooking apples when there are apple thieves around.”

“No, I was just cooking apples. I’ve no idea about no thieves in them here parts.”

The human lawyer face turns sour. “Stop that.”

“Stop what,” Aofil asks with their arms outstretched as they lean on one leg. They tip their imaginary hat, “partner?”

The human lawyer storms around the fence with a burning gaze towards Aofil. “How the fuck do you know about that?”

“Get your friend away from me before I call the police!” Aofil demands as the lawyer closes the distance.

A pair of arms grabs the lawyer by the shoulders. “Come on, let’s go. The thieves are obviously not here. Don’t do anything stupid, let’s go,” they plead.

The lawyer casts a vicious look towards Aofil before turning around. He walks away with heavy steps.

“Sorry,” Aofil whispers out as they close the patio door behind them. They run their hands over their face and sigh in disappointment. Using a dead kid as leverage, that was uncalled for. Idiot. Was there any other way? Aofil draws a blank. The plan worked, but they’re not happy that it did. They lean back on the stove and almost knock over the boiling pot. At least it smells good.

A breeze passes by Aofil. “i take it that they’re gone?”

Aofil nods weakly. “Yeah, they’re gone.”

Sans turns around. “bro, i found the human first. you won.”

Papyrus pops up from underneath the sofa, almost knocking it over. He poses heroically. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM THE MASTER OF HIDE AND SEEK! I SHALL WEAR THIS TITLE WITH DIGNITY AND PRIDE!”

Sans tosses a smile towards Aofil. “isn’t he the coolest?” Aofil is lost in thoughts. Sans snaps his fingers. ”right?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, definitely. The coolest.”

“you alright?”

Aofil sighs. “Not really. I had to do something, not evil, but still unpleasant to get rid of them. Maybe it was a bit evil.”

“care to share?”

“I'd rather not, if that’s OK. I should probably tell Undyne and Alphys that the coast is clear.”

Sans nods and heads over to Papyrus. “how can you hide so good, pap? you’re a skeleton, you don’t have any.”

Papyrus’ woes and Sans’ laughter follows Aofil up the stairs. They knock on the bathroom door and the rushing water is silenced. Wet footsteps close in for the door.

“Are the humans gone?” asks Alphys’ head.

Aofil nods. “Yup.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yup.”

“Good.”

“Did I interrupt something?”

Drops of water splash against the floor as Alphys shakes her head. “No, we were just about done.”

“Oh, OK.”

Aofil realizes that they’re standing there without a purpose and heads back down. The bathroom door is closed behind them.

Papyrus is back behind the pot. He's whistling while stirring and his hips moves in sync with the tune.

“HUMAN, YOU’RE LOOKING A BIT SAD! HOW COME? PAPYRUS ALWAYS HAVE TIME TO CHEER UP HIS FANS! ESPECIALLY FANS THAT ARE FRIENDS!”

Aofil realize that their face is sunk down and they roll their shoulders back for Papyrus. They try to flip their frown upside down as well. “Yeah, a bit, I guess. I just...” Their face sink again. “I did something bad, don’t really know if I did the right thing.”

“YOU’RE A GOOD SOUL, AOFIL! YOU TOOK US IN WITHOUT KNOWING WHO WE WERE!” Papyrus stops his stirring and shakes his finger at Aofil. “I DON’T THINK YOU DID WHAT YOU DID WITHOUT A REASON! NO FRIEND OF MINE DOES THAT!” With a smile that could light up the darkest void Papyrus poses with a presence that blinds Aofil. “TAKE THAT FROM ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS! YOUR IDOL AND NUMBER ONE COOL DUDE GUY!”

Aofil puts a hand over their eyes. ”I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Pap.”

A joyful grunt catches Aofil’s attention and they see Undyne swinging around the golden ornament on the stair’s railing. “Watch this, whelps!” she warns as she lands. She glides towards the kitchen with record speed and Papyrus cheers her on.

Her eyes narrows as Papyrus’ glistening armor reflect the midday sun right into her eyes. She fails to spot the threshold between the hallway and the kitchen and with a noise unfamiliar to everyone’s ears she trips over Aofil.

“i’ve heard of ice skating, but not tile skating before,” Sans comments as he sees Aofil and Undyne clamped together on the kitchen floor. A wet trail leads up to them and Undyne quickly makes sure that her towel is still on her. She breathes out as it is.

Aofil’s nose wrinkles as Undyne smells the same as Alphys did the last time Aofil went tile skating. Do they wear the same perfume? Is it the shower gel? It smells different than what it does when Aofil is using it. Is it because it's being applied to scales instead of skin.

“Human,” Undyne says after a couple of seconds.

“Hm, oh, sorry,” Aofil releases their grip.

Undyne jumps up and gives Aofil a hand. Aofil nods in thanks.

“Papyrus, what did I tell you about your armor?” Undyne asks as she massages the arm she slid on.

“TO KEEP IT NICE AND SHINING!”

Aofil chuckles. “Can’t fault him for that.”

“THANK YOU, AOFIL!”

Aofil closes their eyes as they’re hit by another blinding flash of Papyrus’ armor. “Anytime.”

Undyne’s face is twisted in thought, but she fails to come up with a counter. She instead grabs Papyrus and suplexes him. She then picks up Alphys and runs back up the stairs.

“You alright?” Aofil asks Papyrus.

“YES!” He jumps back up on his feet. ”DON'T WORRY, AS A ROYAL GUARDSMAN IT IS MY JOB TO BE VIGILANT AND TO BE PREPARED TO BE ATTACKED AT ANYTIME! UNDYNE IS GIVING ME SOME GREAT TRAINING! IT MIGHT LOOK DANGEROUS, BUT I SHALL NOT FALTER MY DUTIES!"

Deja vu hits Aofil but they shake the memory out from their head. “Good. I’ll...I’ll keep that in mind.”

Papyrus returns to his pot. Aofil is a bit concerned over the selection of spices Papyrus’ adds, but they decide to give him a chance.

Aofil approaches their bookshelf and with deja vu still present in their head they decide to try something. “You want anything to read, Sans?” they ask the sleeping skeleton. They take the lazy shrug as a yes. “I think I have something akin to ‘I woke up human’.”

“oh, that one’s good.”

“So I’ve heard.” Aofil runs their finger over the book covers. “Aha.”

Sans takes the book with narrowed eyes. “i woke up a monster?”

“A classic, one of the best. It tells the tale of a prince that’s turned into a monster and is cast out of his castle for being ugly,” Aofil explains as they look for a book for themselves.

Sans skims the back. ”mhm.”

“He’s forced to go into hiding, since he’s so ugly,” Aofil continues.

Sans nods. “ok.”

“But, they find another monster.”

“another ugly monster?” Sans guesses.

“Yes,” Aofil nods as they find a book that catches their interest.

“well, you’ve sold me,” Sans smiles out. “i think i’ll plow it through in one go.”

Aofil seat themselves next to Sans. ”Glad to hear it.”

The smell of apples and spices drifts slowly out the stuck window. Papyrus proudly proclaims that the sauce is done and just needs reheating. Aofil motions for the bookshelf and Papyrus picks a book about puzzles. Alphys and Undyne joins shortly.

“You nerds reading?” Undyne asks the party.

Aofil points to the manga she’s holding. “What do you call that?”

Undyne sits down and flicks a page. “I’m not a nerd.”

Aofil jokingly scoffs and returns to their book. “Sure.”

Undyne extends their tongue and Aofil returns a smile.

The party reads in silence and before they know it another heavy knock on the door indicates that it is lunch time.

“Welcome back,” Aofil greets Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk as the trio enters with crouched posture, even Frisk, ”did the meeting go well?”

“It did,” Asgore nods. “Very much so. I’m sorry if I sound a bit demanding, but could I talk to you in private, Aofil?”

“What for?” asks Toriel.

“Just a formality, how much they want to be compensated.”

Toriel narrows her eyes. ”Come, Frisk, let’s start with the lunch.”

She and Frisk leaves for the kitchen.

“Is the upper floor empty?” Asgore asks.

“Of monsters and humans, yes.”

Asgore motions with a gentle hand. “After you.”

The stairs creek as Asgore follows Aofil upstairs.

“Forgive me for lying. When you introduced yourself yesterday, you said that you were family. You also said that you knew us even though we didn’t know you.”

Aofil sighs at their mistake. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I just want to know, what did you mean by that? And how did you know of our names? Please, understand why I’m asking you this. I’m bringing my people back to the Surface and the first human we meet already knows our names and call us family,” Asgore smiles. “I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate your generous hospitality, it’s just not what I expected.”

Aofil looks down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why, is it magic?”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Asgore’s warm and fuzzy hand comforts Aofil’s shoulder. “Human, I don’t know your people’s relation to magic nowadays. If you’re trusting me with a secret of yours, I’ll keep it. But if you could allow me to ask, is magic still in use by you humans?”

Aofil puts a hand over their chest. “No, from what I know, it just runs in my family. We mainly use science nowadays.”

Asgore’s brow furrows. “But, science is magic.”

Aofil’s eyes widen in panic. “Later, after lunch.”

“What do you mean?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, after lunch. Not when I’m hungry.”

They walk down the stairs, leaving a perplexed Asgore scratching his head.

“You’ve settled for a sum?” Toriel asks as she smooths out the edges of the table cloth. The open window is not doing her any favors.

Aofil holds down a corner. “What? Oh yes, we have.”

She casts her gaze towards Asgore walking into the kitchen. “How much?”

“Enough,” Aofil assures.

Toriel puts a jug of water on her corner to keep it still. “Just enough? I heard what you did earlier. I’ll have a talk with him, don’t worry.”

Aofil puts a plate on their corner to also hold it down from the wind. “No need. Really, it’s OK.”

Papyrus once again informs with pride that the food is done. Aofil is curios as to how it will taste. They helped Papyrus this time too. Sure, he did add the spices himself, but that can’t be that big of a deal. The table is gathered and Papyrus serves it with the same grace and finesse as usual. Aofil rolls a fork with the loosest noodles they can find on their plate and takes a bite.

They realize that there are things not even resets can improve.


	33. Memories of the future

"Time flies, doesn't it? a week ago I was dreaming of what I would say to your leaders when, if, I would return up to the surface, and lo and behold," Asgore pushes a button and the ringing stops, "I'm running late to that very scenario. Now, Aofil, If I return after you've fallen asleep."

He stands up, the sound of hundred springs being relieved of duty following him up, and extends a hand towards Aofil. They get up from their chair and take his hand. The grip is very firm, but in a fit like a glove kind of firm.

The feeling of touching skin on one finger and fur on another is sitting well with Aofil, it's good to know that the accident is in the past, or future. Whatever, they're here, they're alive, don’t try to think about what happened.

“Thank you again for the use of your house and food.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Aofil replies, not surprised over the amount of sincerity they meant.

Asgore releases Aofil’s hand, waves to the rest of the table, and bends down into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget the door frame,” Aofil reminds.

A faint chuckle from Asgore finds its way to Toriel and she frowns.

“Don’t worry, human, I got it,” he promises from the hallway.

Aofil picks up their empty plate and cup. ”If everyone is finished with their tea I’ll continue with the dishes.”

Toriel’s mouth hangs open. Her face curls up and Aofil realizes that they stole the words right out of her mouth.

“T-that’s awfully nice of you, human, but I’m more than happy to do it.”

“You’re my guest, Toriel. It is custom to take care of one’s guests.” Aofil picks up Sans’ plate. “What kind of host would I be if I expected my guests to do my chores for me?”

“didn’t papyrus clean your upper floor?”

“Well, he-”

Undyne hands Aofil her plate and cup. “And I mowed your lawn.”

“What you did to the grass was not a chore, Undyne. I should charge you judging by the amount of fun you had slaughtering my yard.”

“Ngahahaha, I like you, human!” Undyne locks the plate between her fingers. “Let’s spar sometime.”

Aofil taps their head. “Can’t, doctor’s order.” They wrestle the plate from Undyne’s grip.

“You’re injured?” Toriel wonders worryingly as she hands Aofil her dishes.

Aofil notices a faint green glow in Toriel’s hand. “It’s OK, I promise.”

“Then why did you tap your head?” Undyne asks as she leans her head on her chin.

“I hit my head pretty badly a long time ago. You can’t see it now, but it was pretty bad, I almost died. Then something amazing happened, something that flipped my world upside down. Everything I knew about my world, everything I knew about me, changed in an instant. Well, not really an instant, but you get my meaning.” Toriel, Undyne, and Alphys nods. Sans snores in acknowledgment and Papyrus offers Frisk his lap. “Anyway, I also met some great friends, they were a lot like you now that I think about it.”

“I’d love to meet them, if that’s fine with you, Aofil?” Toriel asks with a warm smile. “tThey sound like wonderful humans.”

Aofil scoffs as they take a seat, their knees feel weak all of a sudden. “Yeah, they were.”

Toriel face sinks into worry and she puts a hand over Aofil’s. “Were?”

Toriel’s thumb caresses Aofil’s hand. Aofil smiles as they feel Toriel’s warmth again. Her smooth fur, her comforting smile.

They want to think that it is the same, but they can’t get the images out of their head. The fiery landscape, Toriel’s body lying still on the ground, fading away. Her essence falling through Aofil’s fingers, the desperate grasp grabbing nothing but dust, the last of her.

She died in Aofil’s hands, yet, here she is, caressing the same hand, with life and hope flowing through her. Can Aofil ever put that behind them, can they ever look into this Toriel’s eyes and not see the lack of life that the other had? No, she's not different, she's the same, she's Toriel. Just like the one that died. But, no, she’s here, alive. Aofil lifts their head up and meet Toriel’s comforting expression.

Toriel feels Aofil’s struggling as they fails to hide their sharp breathing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been curious,” she says with a gasps. She lets Aofil rest their chin on her hand. Aofil leans into it. “You don’t have to say anything more, human. I’ll not pry anymore.”

A tear runs down Aofil’s cheek. “They, they died. They died in my hands. I killed them.”

“Human, no, come here,” Toriel invites with her warm and motherly arms. Aofil embraces her.

“I killed them,” Aofil whimpers out.

“You didn’t kill them.” Toriel gently tilts Aofil’s head up towards her. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re not a murderer, Aofil.” She dries off a tear from their chin. “You’re not someone I could ever picture a murderer,” she smiles. “I know this, something’s telling me that you’re a wonderful person, and I’m inclined to believe it. Whatever it was, it was just an,” Toriel’s eyes lose focus and she blinks to try and find a way back, “it was just an accident.”

The room is silent. Toriel tries desperately to find her way back to reality, but her muzzle wrinkles. “It was just an accident, my child.”

Aofil sits up and dries off their red eyes. “Toriel?” They wave their hand in front of Toriel’s face. Nothing.

A small hand tugs desperately on Toriel’s dress and Frisk manages to yank Toriel back down from her memory. She shakes her head, “Oh, forgive me,” and stands up while asking for the plates from Aofil. They hand them over, and she collects the rest of the dishes. She takes a breath to stabilize her voice. “Undyne, Alphys, help Papyrus clean this floor. You too, Sans. Not the kitchen though, I can take care of it,” she demands with authority. It catches the table off guard.

Undyne beckons for Alphys and Papyrus. “The queen asked us to clean. Sans, let’s go.”

Sans yawns and Undyne rolls her eye before lifting Sans over her shoulder. “starting with me, huh?”

“Y-you alright, Aofil?”

“Yeah, Alphys. I, I just need a minute. I’ll join you in a bit.”

The lizard tries to comfort with a clumsy smile. She feels that it fails and she waddles after Undyne. Aofil sinks down on their clamped knuckles and stare out the open window.

They stop Frisk with their hand. “Can I talk to you?” Frisk nods and Aofil picks them up on their lap. They then run their hands over their face. “How?” Aofil shakes their head. “How did you do it? Seeing them again, knowing them and them not knowing you,” Aofil sighs heavily.

Frisk looks towards the kitchen and lowers their head.

“Does it get any easier?”

Frisk shrugs.

“Did any of them,” Aofil focuses their strength for the last word, “die?”

Frisk keeps their head low and nods very faintly.

“Why am I asking you about this? You’re a kid. This is all so wrong. I’m sorry, Frisk, but I need to know. Seeing them alive again, does it get any easier?”

Frisk shakes their head. Aofil opens their arms and Frisk welcomes the offer. They both share a moment, as fallen humans, as humans with friends that don’t know that they are friends. Friends that died in their hands. The moment is long, very long, but it is necessary.

It is eventually interrupted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner.

“Alphee, you do the sweeping. Papyrus, dusting. Sans, carpet. Me, vacuum,” Undyne orders and the house is once again filled with commotion. Their life, their happiness, it seeps to the fallen humans and surrounds them. They both hear Undyne and Papyrus’ laughter. Alphys’ humming. Sans’ snoring. Hearing their friends alive, hearing them be happy, it fills the fallen humans with hope.

Aofil scoffs out their last sorrow., “Shall we join the others, Frisk? Our friends? We’ll make them our friends, again. Together.”

They both wipe the moisture off the others face.

The thoughts of the past, future, whatever, fades away as Aofil and Frisk help their soon to be again friends with the cleaning. The life radiating off of them pushes away the memories, but Aofil still feels their presence. The memories are silenced, but not forgotten.

Papyrus explains to Aofil that dusting is a lot like cooking spaghetti, “IT’S ALL IN THE WRIST!” and like a boiling pot of spaghetti he stirs the dust covering the bookshelf. It glimmers in the sun as it flutters down.

Alphys sneezes as some make it to her. She readjusts her glasses and tries again to get her broom under the leather sofa. “Undyne, c-could you?”

The sofa almost knocks Alphys on her chin as Undyne lifts it up effortlessly. “I have to get you into shape, Alphee!” Her laughter shakes the sofa, “This is nothing,” and more dust is loosened

“Alphys, look out,” Aofil bolts towards Alphys as her head is just under the vibrating sofa. She tilts it up as she hears Undyne failing to hold in her sneeze. Aofil drags Alphys away at the last second before Undyne loses her grip.

Toriel’s head and furrowed brow is thrown around the kitchen corner as the sofa crashes back down. She sees Aofil inspect the floorboards underneath the sofa and casts a glare at Undyne before returning.

Aofil bangs on the floorboards with their fist. “I think they survived.”

Undyne massages away the sneeze. “Sorry, Aof. You too, Alphee.”

“D-don’t worry, I survived,” Alphys’ grip hardens on her tail.

With care Aofil slowly puts their weight on the sofa and it complains a bit. They hum in thought. “I’ll have to reinforce it, just in case.”

“I’ll help you,” Undyne offers and pats Aofil on the shoulder. The sofa snaps in two and Undyne falls over Aofil.

They’re both left flailing in a pile of frictionless pillows. Toriel peeks around the corner again as Undyne and Aofil struggle to get loose. Papyrus lends a helping hand to Aofil.

They thank Papyrus and he turns around as Undyne tries to take his mitten. “ANYTIME, HUMAN FRIEND!” he bows.

Undyne slides back down and her hair flops down over her face. Aofil snickers as they offer their hand to the red faced blue fish. She grabs it and spins her hair back into place. She taps Papyrus’ shoulder. “YES?”.

“Papyrus,” Undyne smiles and wraps her arms around his waist. As she bends down for the suplex Toriel interrupts her with a demanding cough. Undyne places down Papyrus. “Sorry, Toriel.”

Toriel shakes her head dismissively and returns to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about your sofa. Asgore will get you a new one,” Undyne explains before returning to the vacuuming.

Aofil nods. “Like always.”

“sofa so good, right?” Sans quips from the hallway.

“How far are you on that carpet, Sans?” Aofil replies.

“about, i don’t know.”

“You’re sleeping on it,” Aofil notices as they round the corner.

“i held it down for you,” Sans explains as Aofil rolls him off the carpet.

“Sure you were,” Aofil confirms as they shoulder the carpet. Frisk catches the part dragging on the ground behind Aofil and together they lift it outside. They both throw a smile towards Toriel as they pass, but her reply is weak.

Aofil closes the patio door behind them and makes sure that the kitchen window is closed. They remember the dining room window, the stuck one, just in time and motion for Frisk to go a bit further away. They both throw the carpet over a sturdy branch on the apple tree.

Aofil catches Toriel’s lowered head through the window as they walk back. “I can’t stand seeing her that way, not after what happened. I just want her to be happy. Maybe, it could help us cope.”

Frisk nods.

Toriel puts away the final plate as Aofil enters with Frisk. “You feeling better, Aofil?”

“Yeah, thank you. Sorry for staining your dress, again.”

Toriel dries off her hand. “Again?”

Frisk nudges Aofil’s side. “Did I say again? Sorry, it just slipped, don’t know why.”

Toriel tilts Aofil’s head with her hand. “You absolutely sure you don’t have a head injury? I can help you. I know healing magic.”

Aofil lifts away Toriel’s hand gently. “As much as I would love it, Toriel, I can’t let you, or anyone, use magic on me.”

Toriel retracts her hand. “Why not?”

“I’m, um, cursed, so to speak.”

Toriel’s hand finds its way over her mouth. “Cursed? How?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. Just, don’t use magic on me. Please?”

Toriel lowers her hands on her dress. “If you say so, human. I only wanted to help.”

“I know that, Toriel. Trust me when I say that I wouldn’t want anything else but to have you heal me. But, I don’t trust this curse. I’m fine if I’m not influenced by magic, but I can’t imagine what I would do if I was exposed to it directly.”

Toriel looks at the fire stove, it’s burning nicely.

“Don’t worry, I can be around magic, but don’t use it on me,” Aofil reassures.

“Are you allergic to magic? Is that what you mean?”

Aofil lights up. “That’s a great way of putting it! Yeah, forget the curse, I’m allergic to magic. I can take a bit, like a paper cut, but nothing more.”

Toriel is taken back by Aofil’s enthusiasm. ”Well, then I understand.”

“Yes, good, awesome!” Aofil claps their hand. “Allergic, let’s go with that.”

Toriel looks at Frisk, but Frisk is just as confused.

“Wait here, Toriel. You too, Frisk. I’ll be right back.”

Aofil runs to the hallway and fetches a key chain with a small plastic lawnmower on it.

They spot Undyne putting away the vacuum. “Your house is now monster clean. Even Woshua would be impressed,” Undyne boasts before laughing.

“Grab the others and come outside the backyard, I have a surprise for you.”

Undyne flashes a smile. “Payment for the chores?”

“More or less.”

Aofil hears Toriel’s voice as they walk back to the kitchen, “Yes, Frisk, I do believe them,” and they wait a couple of seconds before reentering the kitchen.

They rattle the keys. “How about we all catch a nice tan?”

“Forgive me, I don’t think I understand,” Toriel replies.

Before Aofil can explain Undyne arrives with the rest on her back. She smiles at Aofil. “You told me.”

“Yes, I know, grab the others. Why don’t you get them outside? Mind the door.”

To everyone’s surprise she manages to squeeze through with her backpack of friends. She sets them down and Aofil asks her to follow them to the shed. They retrieve the sun chairs and lounge sofa from it and bring them back to the patio.

Toriel sits down on the sofa and puts on her sunglasses again. Her raised eyebrow silences the snickers from Undyne and Alphys.

The rest take a chair of their own. Aofil pulls the lever on the side of their chair and leans back and lock their fingers over their chest. They hear the others struggle with the technique before hearing their chairs lock in position.

“Nice weather, huh?” Aofil asks with their eyes closed. “It’s gonna rain tomorrow, so get as much sun now as you can.”

“rain? you sure?”

“Yup, you see, it is raining somewhere else right now. I don’t know where, but I now that it is somewhere. Then, tomorrow it’ll come here. Thunder as well. You ever heard thunder?”

“I’ve read and seen depictions of it.”

“From your anime, Alphys?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Believe it or not, it’s actually way cooler in real life.”

“and the rain?” Sans asks again.

Aofil flickers their fingers. “Pours like the Waterfall.”

“WOWIE, YOU HUMANS USE THE SAME EXPRESSION AS WE DO!”

Aofil opens one eye. “Actually, we say that it is raining cats and dogs.”

Toriel peeks over her sunglasses. “And it does?”

“No, it’s just a saying.”

“But, if you don’t use it, how did you know about our saying?”

Aofil puts a finger to their lips. “Sorry, human secret.”

Undyne bumps Aofil’s shoulder. “Really?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding. Frisk told me about their adventure.”

Frisk nods.

“About Snowdin. About Doggo, the guard in Snowdin that wields two blades. The Waterfall, Hotland, the list goes on. How they fell down and met all of you guys. Then they helped you break the barrier, somehow. Quite the day you guys had.”

Toriel shifts her eyes to Frisk for a second. “Yeah, quite the day.”

“THE BEST DAY!”

A gust of wind blows some grass of the pile in the corner. Aofil turns to Sans, but he’s still there. Must’ve been just, a normal wind. Aofil is a bit taken back at how weird that sounded.

Undyne sees Aofil staring at the corpses of her enemies. “You have any problems with it you shouldn’t have forced me to make it.”

Aofil flops their head to the side and raises an eyebrow at Undyne. ”Forced?”

“You know what I mean, whelp. Can’t we, I don’t know,” her smile widens, “burn it?”

“And leave a huge black spot on my lawn in the process? No thank you. I’ll probably get some bags for it. Or perhaps just throw it into the forest, give back to nature.”

Undyne summons a cyan pitchfork. “Why didn’t you just say that?” She walks over to the pile of grass and lifts it up with her pitchfork. With a pleased grunt she throws it high up over the trees.

“Thank you, Undyne. Nice throw!” Aofil cheers and Undyne poses heroically. “But, perhaps it would be better if it wasn’t on top of the trees.”

Undyne turns around and tosses a blunt spear that crashes heavily on the tree shaking the grass loose. She peeks over her houlder with a pleased grin. “Anything else, human?”

Aofil peers at the tree. “There’s still some blades left, but I can get them later, don’t worry.”

They share a laugh as Undyne returns to her chair. Afterwards they all sit in silence and take in the sun.

Some time pass before Aofil notices the long shadow from the apple tree. The sun is setting.

“Howdy,” comes a deep voice from the hallway. Aofil furrows their brow. Is Asgore already back? Last time he wasn’t home until way later.

“We’re outside, Asgore,” Undyne yells back.

Asgore’s curious head pops out the kitchen window. “Ah, there you are. How about I put on some tea?”

Toriel looks around the party and they all nod, except Aofil. “Yes, Asgore. If you could.”

Asgore smiles, “Anytime, Tori,” he halts, “dear,” and pulls his head back.

Toriel shakes her head and catches Aofil’s furrowed brow with her eyes. “Something on your mind, human?”

“Hm,” Aofil meets Toriel’s eyes, “oh, nothing, I was just lost in thought. Frisk, could you help me with some stuff upstairs? I might have some clothes you can use.”

Toriel sets down Frisk and stands up. “We’d love that.”

Aofil motions for the sofa. “Sit, Toriel. Enjoy the sun. Please, for me. It’s just a couple of old sweaters, don’t worry. You’ve waited for this moment, savor it.” Aofil takes Frisk’s hand. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

As the humans reach the upper floor Frisk glides out of Aofil’s hand.

“I didn’t lie, I do have some sweaters in your size.” Aofil enters a room and opens a wardrobe. “And to answer why I didn’t give them to you before, never thought about it. You seem pretty comfortable in blue and purple so I didn’t-” Aofil pulls out a green and yellow striped sweater. “Oh, right...” They fold it back neatly. “Maybe we shouldn’t dress you up as Chara. Toriel would have a heart attack.”

Frisk puts a hand on their chest and nods.

“You still can’t talk with them?”

Frisk shakes their head.

“If they ever want to talk, tell me, OK?”

Frisk smiles.

“Thank you. Oh, and the reason I brought you up here, why is Asgore back so soon? He was gone until tomorrow before, and we haven’t done anything different.”

Frisk thinks.

“Right?”

Frisk shakes their head.

“Not a reason that we know of, yeah. Maybe we should ask him? If he also remembers that could be trouble.”

Frisk shakes their head violently.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Frisk’s head sinks and they nod again.

“Ah, I see, sorry. We’ve been up here for long enough now,” Aofil offers their hand, “let’s go back.” Frisk takes it.

They hear the teapot whistling as they come down the stairs. “Tea is done,” informs Asgore. “Oh, humans, could you help me with the cups?” He leans in closer. “So that Toriel don’t have to worry that I might put them on my horns again?”

The humans both smile and Aofil retrieves the cups. Frisk takes a couple and Aofil carries the rest.

“Asgore, I didn’t think you would be back this early. Did something happen?”

Asgore gambles on the temperature of the kettle handle and loses. He sucks his finger, “Oh, no. On the contrary,” and shakes the pain away, “It went great. We reached a compromise very quickly, it was like we’d done it before. I knew what to say, and the mayor knew what to say. I’m very pleased with the result.”

Frisk and Aofil share a concerned look before following Asgore outside. They hand the cups to the others. Asgore pours a round and then looks for a place to sit. His mantle sweeps the patio as he looks around, but all the chairs are busy.

Aofil halts their cup. “Oh, sorry, Asgore...” they scratch the back of their head. “I don’t think I have more chairs.”

“Nothing to worry about, I’ve sat for some time now. I can stand.”

“You sure?”

Asgore nods deeply. “You’re a great host, Aofil, it’s fine.” He taps his cup with a claw after taking a sip. “Though, if you’d allow me, earlier you said something about science.” Asgore snickers at the notion. “And to me it sounded like you meant that science wasn’t magic.”

Aofil swallows. “Oh yeah!” They put down their cup on the top of the patio fence. “You see, we humans don’t know magic, at least, not anymore. So, we were forced to figure out how the world works,” they pause for effect, “without it.”


	34. A night to remember

“Are we doing this again?”

Aofil tries to fight against the vines, but the vines squeeze harder in return, and Aofil’s ribs quake from the pressure.

A vine slithers its way to their chest and Aofil screams in pain as a red heart is drawn out. It’s cracked and is pulsating irregularly. With a pleased laughter Flowey lets Aofil go. “Pathetic, its so pathetic. Oh, well, a soul is a soul,” Aofil lands hard on the ground and a petal is thrown gently on Aofil’s head, “even if it’s from an idiot like you,” Flowey teases with a condescending voice.

He lifts the soul and basks in its red glow for a while before forcing it towards him. “No!” Aofil screams out as their soul is absorbed into Flowey.

Flowey cackles as he braces for his newfound power to surge through him. “Finally, a soul to call my own!” he boasts in triumph.

Aofil stands up on shaking knees, they clutch their wound, their, scars! They’re back, and they’re as painful as Aofil remembers! They try to come up with something, something to get their soul back, they can’t live without it. Wait a second, they can’t live without it. Then how are they still alive?

Flowey’s expression sours. “Are you serious? How is your soul this worthless?” He brings it out into the open again and shakes it. The rattling echoes through the vast and hollow cavern. Flowey turns around with burning eyes and burrows into the ground only to emerge right in front of Aofil’s feet. His face morphs into Aofil’s. “Look at me! I’m a stupid human with a broken soul,” they mock with Aofil’s voice.

Aofil stares at themselves. “What are you- What?”

Flowey returns to himself and waves Aofil’s soul in front of them. “Your soul is broken. You lied to me!” He throws it back to Aofil who clumsily catches it.

Flowey produces a phone from the ground. “ML? Yeah, it’s Flowey. Thank you, it’s been difficult. Listen, I’d like to sue Aofil.” Aofil tries to get their soul back into their chest but to no effect. “They did what? Are you sure, ML? Hold on for just a moment, please.” Flowey puts a vine over the phone. “Stop that!” he shouts to Aofil. They looks at him confused. “I’m trying to talk here!” Flowey returns to their phone. “What was that about my parents?”

Aofil stares at their soul. How are they alive with it outside them? Is it really their soul or is it-

A vine grabs Aofil’s ankle, “Hurry now, we got a trial for you,” and drags Aofil underground.

"Will the prosecution please bring forth their first witness?” asks a human judge.

Aofil opens their eyes and looks around the courtroom. Their head is forced forward by a steadfast hand. “Eyes front!” it commands and the scales scratch Aofil’s neck.

ML nods at the judge and picks up a potted flower. Aofil tries to shift their position so that they can see what flower it is, but a guard grabs their orange collar and forces Aofil back in the chair. Strains of red hair finds rest on their shoulder.

“The prosecution has summoned Flowey, the only living relative of the murdered royal couple,” ML states to the jury.

“Dead? No, they’re alive,” Aofil shouts out as Flowey is carried to the witness stand. They’re once again forced back down in the chair. It creeks from the force. "Asgore and Toriel are alive!"

“You killed them!” Flowey spits back. “First you lie in my face about coming back for me and then you murder my parents! To top it all off you gave me a broken soul.”

Both juries stare Aofil down and the hand on their neck hardens.

“No, I didn’t kill them! You’ve no proof!” Aofil defends.

The hand pushes Aofil down on the table. “Silence!”

“You wrote down those numbers! Didn’t you said so yourself,” accuses a child’s voice. Aofil scans the court room for the source. “Did you kill them to feed your curse?” it continues.

Aofil locks eyes with the source. “Frisk? No, Frisk, you know I didn’t kill them. You saw what happened. I didn’t do it!”

“Then why is there dust on your hands?” ML asks with a whip of their tail.

Aofil looks down at their hands. They grasp nothing, but as they release their fists a torrent of dust starts flowing through their fingers. They try desperately to brush it off, but it only burns their hands. The dust piles on the floor and the faintest outline of Asgore’s head emerges. “How’s this for your human science?” it asks.

Aofil feels a sinister grin form. They try to stop it, but it takes root from their very core. Their cheeks blush, and they see their red eyes color the dust the same color. They grasp the dust again, it feels good to them now. Asgore’s face whimpers at the sight.

ML eyes challenges the red ones of the crimson heart. “For crimes against the Royal Code you’re sentenced to death,” ML threatens.

A blue spear materializes on Aofil’s throat, it’s unstable and violent. Aofil lets a laugh escape their lips. “Goats to the slaught-” They’re cut off as Undyne slashes their throat. Aofil grabs it, but there’s no blood. They inspect their hand, it’s clean, the dust is gone.

They feel a pair of warm and fuzzy hands massage their shoulders. “Isn’t it beautiful?” Toriel asks as she bends over Aofil.

Aofil stares at the hellscape in front of them. The burning wreckage of the Above Lab, the corpses of both humans and monsters are strewn like pebbles on a beach. They step back from the sight and bump into Toriel.

She turns Aofil around with the utmost care. “You really did embrace us with your humanity, my child.”

Aofil face distorts into panic and fear, “Toriel, your face!” as they see the features of Toriel warming smile fade away. She envelops Aofil as her body dissipates.

Aofil falls to their knees and clutch their head. “No, not again. I just want to forget, not again.”

The coarse dust forms thick clumps as tears mix with Toriel’s essence. Like stones they fall heavily on the scorched earth. “I just want to forget...”

A child scoffs and Aofil looks up from their hunched over posture.

“You want to forget, like you did with me?” Chara smiles.

“No, not like you.”

Oozing void pours from Chara eyes and mouth, but a smile breaks the black veil. “Funny,” with a tilt of their neck they’re jerked towards Aofil. Chara’s mouth grows and a hollow laughter pierces Aofil’s head, “I can’t see the difference.”

Undyne’s blue spear lights up the dark room. “Aofil, you alright? I heard you screaming!”

Aofil snaps their eyes towards the monster that just sliced their throat, “No! Get away!” and shields themselves with their shaking arms.

“Alphys, wake Toriel, she needs to heal Aofil,” Undyne commands down the hallway.

“No,” Aofil stops her as she approaches, “no magic, don’t!” They try to catch their breath, but the image of Chara and Toriel is clogging their head. They can’t find something to lean on and they fall out of their bed and hit the ground hard.

Undyne rushes to Aofil’s aid as Alphys halts Frisk at the doorway. They fail to stop Toriel though. “What’s happening?”

Undyne grabs Aofil’s head and holds it still. “Aofil, look at me. It was just a dream.”

Aofil sees the guard that executed them and they struggle to get loose. “I didn’t kill them, it was an accident.”

“Human!” Undyne demands again, “It was just a dream,” and knocks the air out of Aofil with a fist just underneath their rib cage.

The images retreat as Aofil desperately gasps for air. Undyne stretches their back upright and Aofil breathes greedily. Every breath worries the room. Alphys’ grip around Frisk hardens and Frisk hugs just as hard back. Their face is buried in Alphys’ side. Toriel walks slowly towards Aofil’s bed with worry blossoming on her face.

Aofil takes support on Undyne’s shoulder. “U-Undyne.”

Undyne puts them gently back up on their bed. “You scared us there. Bad dream?”

Aofil nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Aofil shakes their head and Undyne notices that they’re trying desperately to hold their posture. “It’s OK, you don’t have to.”

Toriel sits down gently beside Aofil and with an ever gentler hand she inspects Aofil head. “Human, I’m not going to be upset with you if you change your answer now,” she looks at Aofil with concerning eyes, “but do you have a head injury? Do you need a human doctor?”

Aofil wipes away the sweat on their forehead with an unstable hand. “N-no, it was just a bad dream, nothing else.” Aofil can see that Toriel knows that they’re lying.

“If you say so,” she motions for the others to leave, “we’ll give you some space to breathe.” She runs a tender finger on Aofil’s cheek. “Call for us if you need something, promise me. Anything.”

Aofil can’t look her in the eyes. “I promise.”

Toriel halts at the door. “Sleep well, human.”

Aofil sees her smile turn into a concerning frown just as the door is closed. They rest a heavy head in their hands.

“Fuck.”

After a couple of minutes they realize that they’re thirsty.

Their bedroom door bumps Undyne’s side. ”Can’t sleep?” she asks as she sidesteps so that Aofil can go on through.

“No. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Undyne smiles. “I’m keeping guard for nightmares.”

Aofil can’t muster a laugh.

Undyne nods in concern. “That bad?”

Aofil breathes out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, it was.”

Undyne puts a soft hand on Aofil’s back. It feels the same as in the dream. “It wasn’t real, human. Besides, we all have bad dreams from time to time.” She gives Aofil a comforting rub and a smile that almost blinds them. “One time I dreamed that Jerry joined the Royal Guard.” Undyne shivers. “It was pretty bad, I felt horrible the entire day after.”

Aofil doesn’t know how to react.

“The things is, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t real,” Undyne tries again to comfort.

Aofil knows that she means well, that she only wants to help. But the wording couldn’t have been poorer. They nod weakly. “I’m gonna get a glass of water.”

Undyne salutes. “I’ll stand guard, don’t worry.”

The kitchen floor is cold, almost as if the kitchen window was left open. Which it is. Aofil sighs and moves to close it. They halt their hand as a mellow tune finds its way inside. They recognize it, Undyne played it yesterday. Aofil peeks out the window, “Asgore?”

Asgore shuts close a box next to him and the music stops. He folds a binder and greets Aofil through the window with a smile. “Howdy, why are you up at this hour?”

Aofil fills a glass with water and walks out onto the even colder patio. “Was about to ask you the same?” They motion for a blanket next to Asgore. “Could you?”

Asgore hands Aofil the blanket. “You want some tea as well? I brewed a kettle just recently.”

Aofil throws the water over the fence. “I’d love some.”

Asgore chuckles and pours Aofil a glass. “So, can’t sleep?”

Aofil feels their grasp on the glass harden. “Bad dream.” The heat from it has them loosening their grip almost immediately.

“Drink some, it’ll calm you down.” Asgore grabs a hovering fireball above his shoulder, “Here, to warm you further,” and moves is over Aofil’s. He runs his paw over it and the light changes from white to a warming orange. “Despite us living Underground we do need light to see as well. I made it a bit warmer for you. Don’t worry about it touching you, it won’t hurt you.”

Aofil still sinks down a bit, just in case. They don’t feel anything except the warmth, but again, just in case. “Thank you, it’s a bit chilly tonight.”

Asgore smiles and summons another fireball to replace the one he gave Aofil. With a flick of his wrist he flips open a pair of glasses and mounts them on his muzzle.

Aofil blows a bit on their tea, Asgore must’ve had it on his magic it’s so warm. “You never told me you needed glasses.”

Asgore tilts his head and looks over his rims. Aofil can’t help but snicker at the sight. Asgore notices and pushes them further up with a stern expression that quickly fades into a wide smile. “You humans use a smaller font than what I’m used to.” He lifts them off his face. “Your mayor saw my struggles and offered me a pair which I gladly accepted.”

“What are you reading?”

Asgore puts his glasses back. “Just some of your human laws. I don’t want to stumble on a formality now that we’ve come this far. While you’re here, could you perhaps tell me how your human trials are conducted?”

Aofil almost crushes their glass in their hand. “No, no idea.”

“Aofil, you’re shaking,” Asgore comments. “Do you want me to make the fire warmer? I’m covered in fur so I don’t know how warm you want it to be.”

Aofil nods even though the fire is plenty warm, maybe a bit too warm now. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, human.”

The brisk night air sweeps over the lawn and Asgore’s hair and beard flow with it. He seems unfazed by the cold though unlike Aofil who lifts up their legs as the wind hits them. They take another mouthful of tea to counter the cold snap that is their legs. The comforting liquid spreads to Aofil’s nerves and they feel their tense shoulders sink. They allow themselves to lean back a bit more.

Their head is still busy trying to organize the dream. What it meant, if anything. Frisk did say that it wouldn’t get easier, is this what they meant? Does Frisk have these dreams as well? Are they used to them? Aofil sighs into the wind.

How will they continue? Do the same thing? Change it for the better? At least try, perhaps. But, if these dreams become the norm...

They shake their head at the thought. No, they can’t think like this! Can’t think about Toriel dying, can’t think about Chara, can’t think about their parents, their-

The fire over their shoulders sparks and they recoil. Asgore motions over it with his hands. “Sorry, I lost focus. It should be stable now.”

Aofil nods and Asgore returns to his binder. He makes a note. “Papyrus needs a driver’s license as well,” he thinks out loud. He flips the pages and taps his pen on his muzzle.

Aofil savors another sip. They feel their grip loosening and feeling more relaxed. A yawn tries to escape, but they manage to hold it in.

They wonder if they should repeat the cloud trick again with the monster pupils. Toriel won’t find any human teachers. She didn’t find any before. But then again, she didn’t know about human science before. Aofil sinks down as they realize that they might’ve screwed themselves over, big time.

“Set aside a budget for his car, and Undyne’s house,” Asgore mumbles to himself.

Aofil pouts in thought. What about Above Lab? They got a job there, they think. At least passage into it. What was Asgore about to show? Just the magic show?

“Was the tea bitter?” Asgore asks as they see Aofil’s furrowed expression.

“What? No, I was just,” a small yawn slinks through, “I was just thinking.”

Asgore nods. ”I see.”

Aofil nods as well and drums on their cup. Were where they? They feel another yawn form. Oh yeah, the Above Lab. The ooze, the dust, the death. All that horrible shit.

They hum in frustration to try to get the images out of their head. Still there. They take another sip. Still there, and now they’re tired as well. They lower their head. Why? Why them? They’re just a normal human, with a curse. No, allergy, human with an allergy. That’s normal, but normal people don’t have memories like they do. Normal people don’t hear someone they saw die mumble about how to guide the humans through the Underground.

“Undyne takes care of Mettaton,” Asgore notes.

Memories. Maybe theirs aren't even real? Maybe Chara lied about, well, everything? About Flowey, about Toriel and Asgore dying, about, their parents.

Tomorrow, tomorrow they’ll ask them if it was real. And perhaps, they can help with the memories.

Tomorrow, yeah, tomorrow is good. Not now, the chair is too comfortable. The cover and fire, too warm. Aofil, too tired.

Asgore closes the binder and takes a big gulp of tea. He breathes out a thick cloud of steam. “Do you mind if I ask you another question, Aofil? Nothing about your laws, I was just wondering if you could tell me a bit,” he snaps his fingers and the fireballs disappears in a sizzle. He motions for the sky, “about these.”

It takes a while for Aofil’s eyes to adjust themselves to the darkness.

“Could you show me some of your constellations?” Asgore asks while his eyes dance around the sky. Countless stars reflect in his eyes, but they’re nothing compared to his smile. “If you’d indulge me.”

“Are yours different than ours?” Aofil asks with their eyes half closed.

“I don’t know.” He turns to Aofil with childlike wonder in his eyes. “But I’d love to.”

Aofil rubs their eyes. “You see that big one,” they yawn, “the one that, oh,” they yawn again. They feel their eyes struggle to keep open.

Asgore saves Aofil’s glass from slipping out of their grasp. “Tell you what, human. I’ll look for your constellations, you rest a bit.” He conjures up another orange flame next to Aofil, it feels nice for them. A thought about how Asgore would stargaze with it in his eyes passes by Aofil too quickly for them to react, they burrow down into the blanket. “I’ll wake you when I’m ready to hear your map of the stars, human.”

Aofil nods. “Sounds good,” and shuts their eyes.

They open one slightly as they hear the floorboard under them creek. Their body is being carried by a pair of big and soft arms. Golden hair sways above them. Asgore’s fur is warm and cozy and Aofil nestles into a more comfortable position. One hand releases them, but they’re still as comfortable as they were with two arms holding them.

“What are you doing, Asgore?” Toriel whispers harshly.

Aofil feels their hammock of fur bounce a bit. “Just about to tuck them in.”

“Are they asleep? You sure?”

Aofil closes their eye again.

“I’m pretty sure. You should’ve seen them. They dozed off in a matter of seconds. They said that they had a bad dream, must’ve been exhausting for them.”

Asgore rolls Aofil off his arm and Aofil flops down on the bed awkwardly. They don’t mind it though, even if one of their arm is bent awkwardly over their back. They feel Asgore move it to a more natural position before he throws their cover them. It lands softly over Aofil.

“You haven’t learned a thing, Asgore,” Toriel whispers gently.

“I know,” Asgore responds.

She sighs and runs a hand on Aofil’s head. “I pray that they don’t get another nightmare. I can’t imagine what they dreamed of. They looked like they surfaced from something horrible.” Toriel stops. She removes her hand and stands up. “Tell me, do they also remind you of, someone?”

Asgore sighs as well, he stands up from the bed and Aofil almost bounces up. “I don’t know, there’s something about them I can’t quite shake off. They also told us they were family, remember? Could it mean something?”

“I’ll ask them tomorrow morning.”

“Be as discreet as you can, please. We don’t want them to suspect anything.”

“I’ll tell you their answer once you return, Asgore.”

With a gently cough Asgore wakes up Undyne. “I was, I was!” she tries to excuse, but Toriel hushes her. “I was just baiting the nightmares to come to me instead,” Undyne whispers.

Aofil snickers as they fall asleep.


	35. A life in their hands

"U-Undyne, you think this is a good idea?"

Aofil rolls over so that their back faces the bedroom door. Ten more minutes, then they'll get up.

"Ngah, you think I'm gonna drop this?"

Aofil braces themselves for the inevitable smash. They don't know exactly what will be dropped, but they know something's about to.

"F-five of them?"

"Easiest thing in the world!" Undyne boasts. "Just as easy as, oops."

Aofil stares at the roof and sweeps their cover off as three crashes follow each other in rapid succession. Sounds like porcelain.

They arrive downstairs and are greeted by Toriel’s back and shaking head standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Good morning,” they greet back at her. She turns around. “I heard a bit of commotion, is everyone OK?” Aofil continues.

Toriel’s frown morphs into a smile as she turns around to face Aofil. “Good morning, Aofil. Did you sleep well?” She takes a step forward towards Aofil, obscuring their vision of the mess behind her. Aofil hears someone sweeping the floor though, and judging by the blue legs moving behind Toriel they guess it is Undyne.

“Yeah, I think I fell asleep outside next to Asgore. No nightmares for the rest of the night. None I can remember.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” She peeks at Undyne sweeping up the porcelain shards. ”Don’t worry about that, we had an accident. We’ll repay you for the plates.” Toriel motions for the hallway. “Can I speak to you in private?”

“What’s on your mind?”

Aofil knows exactly what is on her mind.

Toriel smiles warmly. “When we arrived at your wonderful home you said that you were family, Aofil. I was just wondering what you meant by that.”

“I, I, it just slipped.” Aofil shifts their stance. “You seemed friendly enough.”

“Thank you,” Toriel lets her smile fade a bit. “But family? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it immensely, and to an extent, I do feel so myself.” It fades a bit more. “But, something else tells me that this isn’t how things were supposed to happen. We return after, to us, an eternity, and the first human we meet calls us family and treats us as if we were.” Toriel puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “I can’t express how grateful I am, how generous your hospitality is. I’m not blaming you for anything. I just want to know.”

“is it shard getting them all in the pan, undyne?”

Aofil sees Undyne pushing away Sans with her broom over Toriel’s shoulder. Toriel forces back eye contact with Aofil. “Human?”

“Magic,” Aofil informs again.

“Magic? You humans still use it? I though you said you only use your human science?”

“No, as far I know it’s just my family that knows magic.”

“Your family? I apologize for bringing it up then.”

Aofil scans Toriel’s face. “When did I tell you about my family?”

“You said yesterday that they died, didn’t you?” Toriel seems unsure about the answer herself. She sees Aofil’s concerned expression. “Again, I apologize for bringing it up. It wasn’t my intention.”

“No worries, Toriel.”

“I’ll not push matters further, you’ve said enough. Thank you, Aofil.” Toriel smiles before returning to the kitchen.

“Anytime.”

Toriel’s head leans back into the door frame. “Oh, I almost forgot. Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Aofil’s stomach rumbles as if on cue and Toriel snickers. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Aofil follows Toriel with a furrowed brow. They sit down and absently nod as Alphys wishes them good morning. Did Toriel really remember, or did she just misheard what happened yesterday? Same thing happened with Asgore and the mayor yesterday. How are they remembering? Do they know that they’re remembering?

A bony hand places a plate with food in it before Aofil. Aofil fumbles for a spoon and starts eating. The monsters can’t remember everything like Aofil, right? That’s impossible. They wrinkle their forehead, not that the fact that Aofil can remember should be considered normal.

Their spoon searches their plate, but it’s empty. A bony hand asks for Aofil’s plate and they hand it over while still deep in thought. Do everyone have a ghost sibling at hand to explain what happened? Toriel asks a question and Aofil nods without hearing it. She places another plate in front of Aofil. They chew on something hard, but it gives way after some force. Could use a bit more salt.

A furry hand asks for Aofil’s plate and they hand it over. Clanking from the kitchen indicates that dishes are being made. Aofil moves over to the sofa and sinks down with a sigh. So many questions, and no one to turn to. Well, except Frisk. Frisk knows, but no, they can’t ask a kid. Not about this, they’ve asked enough.

That nightmare though. No, just a nightmare, nothing else, Aofil thinks, hopes. Just a nightmare with bad timing.

They hear someone mumble and they follow the voice. Maybe their parents know something? Maybe. They did rescue them after all. Or, was that also a dream? It felt just as real as the nightmare. They have to know, Aofil has to ask. But they can’t go now, they’ve guests.

“Thank you again for housing us these past days,” Toriel smiles at the doorway.

Aofil notices that they’re holding the door for her. Huh... “A-anytime, Toriel. Are you leaving this soon?”

“We were supposed to leave yesterday, remember?”

“Yes,” Aofil lies.

Toriel produces a large bundle of money from her robe. “Here, for everything.”

Aofil accepts the stack, it’s the same amount they received before. They shift their eyes to the broken sofa for a second. “Thank you, Toriel.”

“I’ve also left a snail pie just for you in the freezer. You seemed to be enjoying it so I thought you would enjoy one for yourself.”

Aofil licks their teeth and notices that a piece of shell is stuck on one. They force their smile to stay. “Yes, I’m sure I’ll,” they pause, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Toriel bows and walks down the path. “Anyways, see you soon, Aofil.”

“I’ll drop by later with my credentials.”

Toriel stops in her step. “Didn’t you already hand me them? Could’ve sworn.”

“I might’ve mentioned it when we discussed human science,” Aofil tries to save.

Toriel nods in response, “Could be,” but Aofil sees that she’s still thinking.

“What are you doing, Frisk? Want me to carry you?” Undyne asks and scoops up Frisk with one hand. With a risky throw she catches Frisk on her shoulders.

Aofil sees Toriel throwing a burning gaze towards Undyne. “Anyway, I’ll catch you later. You enjoy your day, Toriel.”

Toriel nods slowly and with heavy steps she joins the others. Aofil hears Undyne apologizing sheepishly before closing the door.

They walk upstairs and sit themselves at their desk. A pen in one hand and paper in the other they start with their credentials. They suspect that they need to make it proper this time. No problem, they’ve got this in the bag. They roll their shoulder and start.

Half an hour later the paper is just as blank with the exception of a tiny dot where the pen was first put down. A small irregular line also stains the paper from when the pen was dropped.

Aofil sighs in annoyance, they can’t think straight. Their head is too jumbled, filled with questions. And then you add the nightmare on top of that.

Aofil sighs again. Maybe a walk? Visit their family? They nod to themselves, answers are in store. Oh yeah, they need to go there as well. Family first though.

The iron gate squeaks as they open it. No one’s around, and they walk to their family.

“No flowers today, I’m afraid. Next time though, I promise.”

Silence surrounds them. Aofil seats themselves on a nearby bench.

“Thank you for what you did, it means a lot.” They lean forward. “Chara says hi as well.”

A nearby aspen shakes violently.

“Sorry, the last one was a lie, I admit. Frisk says that Chara can’t speak to them, not to me either. You know Frisk? The kid that saved my soul? I don’t know if you heard Chara tell me what happened? Basically-”

The aspen leafs flutter in the wind.

“Do you want me to continue or stop?”

The wind stops. Aofil looks around just in case the wind was Sans’ doing. They don’t see no skeletons though, be it human or monster.

“Stop?”

Aofil doesn’t hear a no.

“I’ll tell you later then, if that’s alright. Because now, I need your help. Again.”

Aofil rests their head onto their clamped knuckles.

“You see, Frisk did something called a reset, turned back time. That’s why I ran up Mt Ebott again, why I fell down. My dead twin sibling then explained to me my life, and then I met you, my also dead family. We had a nice dinner, and then I woke up with my broken and corrupted magical soul inside of me again.”

They laugh at the absurdity of what they just said.

“All in all, the people I saw die, the monsters I saw being turned to dust, they’re back. I can talk to them, touch them, they can touch me. I want to forget, except I don’t. I look at them, and the only thing I see their dust, death. Frisk said that it wouldn’t get easier.” Aofil clasps their hair. “I don’t know if I can survive another nightmare by myself. If Undyne wasn’t there I would’ve-”

They run their hands over their face.

“It’s, it’s-”

Aofil laughs again.

“It’s fucking insane! I don’t know what to do. I know what I want to do, but with all these memories of things that happened, yet they didn’t happen, because now I’m back in time.”

Their breathing quickens.

“I don’t even know if you know, because your souls didn’t remember, or something. I don’t even know if that’s true! If what happened before Frisk’s reset was true. Did Chara lie? Were you even real? Is this even real? Am I just, am I just dying?”

They pick up a handful of gravel and throw it against their family’s grave. “Answer me, I need your help! I can’t do this on my own!”

Silence.

“Something? Anything! Please!”

Silence.

“I just, I want you to come back.”

Silence.

“It’s, it’s all my fault. My soul’s fault.”

They grab their chest.

“Out.”

They harden their grip, but grab only flesh.

“Out! It’s your fault! Face me! Look at me and tell me why you’re doing this!”

They demand their pain to let them grip harder. They want to see this parasite. They want to crush it. No magic, just human. That's what they are! Get all this cursed magic out of them!

They feel their chest drip with something warm. It stains their shirt. It’s OK, blood they can lose, they just want to... Wait, that’s not blood. It’s too-

A surge of awareness rushes through their being and they feel something in their palms. They look down with wide open eyes that reflect the red that is their soul.

It’s heavy, weightless, yet still heavy. Very heavy. Aofil’s hands shake as they contain it.

“It’s pathetic,” they remember Flowey calling it. Aofil agrees. Their soul is cracked, broken, whimpering. It’s cold, it’s weak, it’s crying. It wants to go back, to be with Aofil again.

They refuse. No, they don’t need it, it’s only brought death. Chara, their family, Toriel, Asgore. Who knows more?

Aofil’s fingers close in on their soul. They need to destroy it. No more death. No more magic. They’re just, human, nothing more. They take a deep breath and forces their hand to close.

But it refused.

Again Aofil clamps their hand together.

But it refused.

They can’t get a grip so they lift their other hand and smash it in between their palms.

But it refused.

“Why?” Aofil screams at their soul. Their entire body is shaking from the pain that their punches have caused. “Why won’t you just leave me?”

Their soul cowers. It wants to explain.

“No! You’re the reason my parents died, you’re the reason Chara left me.”

What else did I do?

“Sans, Asgore. Everyone. The trial, my summer home!”

What else did I do?

“You’re the curse! You’re determination, my allergy. Because of you I can never fully appreciate my friends.”

What else did I do?

“You put thoughts in my head! You made me want to kill them, you wanted to force my hand!”

Aofil blinks.

“Hand. You forced my hand. I felt you, you starved yourself, you hurt yourself, to make me remember.”

They look down at their still soul.

“That it wasn’t me, that it was the curse. That it was you, that you couldn’t help it, because you’re broken. No.”

Their soul flutters to life again.

“That we’re broken, together. Because we’re me.”

Yes I am.

The broken soul of the cursed human retreats to where it belongs, as an equal part of being human.

They’re broken, they’re pathetic, cursed. But they’re also human, and they’ll get through this, as one. As their soul settles Aofil feels that they’re whole again and another surge shoots through them. Their humanity is flowing through them once again. It feels, weird. It feels-

They charge the nearest bush and throw up violently.

Aofil almost falls over as a gale bursts through the graveyard. They steady themselves and take a deep breath while motioning for the tree to relax. “I’m calm now, don’t,” they throw up again, “worry,” they whisper faintly and spit.

A smaller wind brushes them by. “are we a bit full of ourselves? get it all out, i’ll wait.”

“Sans,” Aofil addresses the now occupied space next to them. They figured that sooner or later one of the winds would eventually be him. “How long have you been here?”

“just blew by. saw you here all alone. thought you wanted some company.”

Aofil dries their mouth with their sleeve. “And the actual reason?”

Sans sits down on the bench and as Aofil joins him he hands Aofil a poorly held together pile of cash. It’s smaller than the one Toriel gave them. “the kid told me that we did a bit more damage this time around.”

“You left plenty enough last time.”

Sans shrugs and inserts the money into Aofil’s pocket. “i’m just the delivery skeleton. if you want to make a return you should talk to frisk.”

Aofil fishes up the bundle. “Is it Frisk’s money?”

“nope.”

“Then who’s is it?”

“yours.”

“Sans.”

He closes his eyes and leans back. “still the messenger, aof. frisk asked me for a favor, and who would i be if i said no to them?”

“Sans sans soul?”

Sans nods, pleased by the pun. “i have to remember that one.”

“You do that.”

The sound of gravel being disturbed catches Aofil’s ear. They pocket the money and knock Sans’ hood over his head. “afraid of people looking at this handsome mug instead of yours?” he comments with a fair amount of seriousness to his voice.

Aofil hushes Sans as the footsteps near them.

“We here to respect the dead?” the pastor asks.

Sans head scans the area. “oh,” he notices, “no wonder it’s dead quiet.” He feels Aofil stare him down. “i guess you were here for a reason, sorry.”

The pastor motions for the bench. “Mind if I sit down, my child?”

“It’s your graveyard.”

The pastor seats himself on the other side of the bench. “Your friend, I assume?”

Sans nods.

“If you excuse me for being nosy, but why a jacket in this weather?”

Sans shrugs.

“He’s very pale, been living underground for his entire life,” Aofil explains. “He’s not used to the sun.”

The pastor nods with squinting eyes. “If you say so, Aofil.” He tilts his head towards Sans. “You must be new to this town.” The pastor extends his hand. “Welcome.”

With a shimmy of his shoulder Sans covers his hand with his jacket arm and takes the pastor’s hand. “thank you, i’m sure i’ll have a grave time.”

The pastor struggles not to frown. ”The pleasure is mine.”

Sans jumps down from the bench. “seems like you two want to have a chat so i’m gonna head home. talk to you later, aofil. pleasure meeting you, pastor.”

Aofil waves Sans goodbye and as Sans rounds the corner a tiny wind breezes by Aofil and the pastor.

The two humans sit for a while, listening to the silence. The pastor eventually breaks it. “I heard you grieving.”

Aofil leans back. “Grieving, yeah.”

“So do I,” the pastor puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “It pains me to say this, my child, but I’m not gonna apologize for what I said before.”

Aofil nods. “I know.” The pastor removes his hand and Aofil smiles at the reaction. “Father, I know what happened.”

The pastor scrambles up on his feet, knocking gravel all over the place. “You know about the attack?”

Aofil pats their chest. “About my curse as well.”

“This is,” the pastor sits down again, “I don’t believe it, it’s impossible.”

Aofil nods. “It is, father.”

“Then how?”

“Magic, that’s all I know.”

“Wait, that friend of yours?” The pastor’s face freeze. He looks at Aofil and they shrug like Sans. “Was that a monster?”

Aofil scratches their nose. “They’re harmless enough. You haven’t read today’s paper?”

The pastor shakes his head. Neither have Aofil, for that matter, now that they’re thinking about it. They try to think if they saw it or not? They shoot open their eyes. What if Toriel has it?

“Excuse me, I have to go,” Aofil and the pastor say together and bolt off in opposite directions.

The iron gate squeaks as Aofil rushes through it.


	36. There and back again

Aofil arrives out of breath at the newly built neighborhood. They let their panting die down for a minute before heading to Toriel's house. A minute of silence passes after they knock on the door, nothing. Dammit, what if she's on her way to the press already? It'll be a disaster. They turn around to figure out where to run off to next and spot Undyne leaving her house in training gear.

"Hey, Aofil! If you’re look for Toriel and Frisk, they went out for a walk, or something," she informs as she jogs up to Aofil. "They took Papyrus with them. I was about to head to the gym and train with him, but now I don't have a," she pauses for a second and her smile flashes, "sparring partner."

Aofil shakes their head. "No."

Undyne nods. "Yes," and her smile widens. "Yes, first we go to the gym, and then we spar. You and me human, it's gonna be glorious! Ngah, finally, an adult human to train with!" She grabs Aofil's arm. "Come, we’ll do squats until our legs fall off!"

Aofil’s arm almost snaps out of its socket as Undyne takes off with them. “I can’t work out in these clothes,” they try to explain away. “I’ll only slow you down as well.”

Undyne kicks in her own door and it ricochets hard on the wall. “Nonsense, I’ll get you some clothes,” she laughs maniacally as she bolts upstairs. Aofil rolls their arms to ease the shock of Undyne pulling them with all her might.

Alphys pokes her head out from the living room. “Oh, Aofil. Nice seeing you here.” Another door slams shuts upstairs and she cocks her head towards the muffled laughter and rumblings. “What’s Undyne doing?”

A pair of shoes are tossed down the stairs. They land with a squeak and their whiskers shake.

“Mikkarama shoes?” Aofil comments.

Alphys’ face lights up. “Y-you know about it? Isn’t it the best? Almost as good as MewMew, right? I’ve only seen nine seasons, are there more up here? I’m really curios how they’ll conclude the judge lion story arc.”

Aofil shrugs. “I don’t know, um, a friend told me about it. Not really seen it myself.”

With a lowered head, Alphys’ wrings her claws together. “I unders-stand.”

“By the way, Alphys? Did you perhaps see my newspaper before we left?”

Alphys nods after some quick thinking. “Yeah, we put it on the pile next to the fireplace.”

Aofil’s shoulders almost flies off as the weight is lifted off them.

Undyne’s laughter increases in volume and she jumps down the stairs with more clothing in her arms. She also picks up the shoes as she lands on the hardwood floor, “You’ve no excuse now, human!” and throws the clothes onto Aofil. “Shorts, shoes made by my cuddlesaur, and a tank top!” Undyne flexes. “Like what I bench! Ngahaha!”

Aofil shakes the tank top off their head, it smells like pink. ”Undyne, as much as I’d love to go to the gym.”

“You’ll gonna love it even more because you’re going with me? I knew it!” Undyne interrupts.

Aofil shrugs. “That too, but-”

Undyne’s smile drains away alarmingly fast. “You, you don’t want to work out with me?”

“No, it’s not that,” Aofil tries to explain. But the words have already been spoken.

Her lower lips quivers. It’s the first time Aofil’s seen it do so. It looks so wrong. With a lowered head she spins on her heel. “I’m gonna go fetch a water bottle,” she sighs and leans very dramatically on the door frame, “for myself. I guess I’ll spar with myself, again.” She sighs very deeply again so that Aofil can hear it. “I’ve always dreamed of sparring with a human.”

Aofil looks down at the shoes in their arms. It pouts as well and its whiskers hang low like Undyne.

Aofil shakes their head at the theater before them, they’ve long enough to know that she’s playing them. “Undyne?”

She turns around with watery eyes. “Yes?” she whimpers pathetically. A bit too pathetically.

“You’re a horrible actor,” Aofil states with a shaking finger. “However, I’m willing to meet you halfway. Give me one reason besides those crocodile tears and I’m in.”

She looks over her shoulder towards the kitchen. “I can cook us lunch once we get home?”

“Good enough?” Aofil asks themselves. They shrug. “Yeah, good enough.” What’s the worst that can happen? It’s just a bit of exercise. They bounce their clothes. “Where can I change?”

Undyne’s pleased cheer shakes the house and Alphys squeaks very similar to the shoes as Undyne hugs her. “Alphee, I’ll be away for a bit with the human. You can stay here and do your nerd stuff. I’ll deal with you another day.”

“Thank you,” Alphys mouths to Aofil.

Undyne releases Alphys and jerks open a nearby door. “Bathroom, Aofil. Change now!”

Her laughter vibrates through the door and fills the bathroom. Aofil takes another peek at the clothes they were given. The color is familiar. As they change they catch a glimpse of themselves in the mirror and wiggle their toes. The shoes’ ears move. They nod to themselves, very familiar, the only thing missing is the cape and tiara.

Aofil was right, it could pass off as training clothes. But why would Alphys tinker with them? Aofil taps their own clothes in thought. Oh yeah, what about them? Where can Aofil put them? Laundry basket? No, there isn't one. Bathtub? No.

Three heavy knocks startles them. “You ready to sweat, human? You ready to stomp Mt. Ebott beneath your feet? Ngah, this is gonna be glorious! I can’t wait!” Undyne shouts through the door. She knocks again. “Hurry up!”

Aofil opens it before Undyne does a Mettaton and punches through the door. “I’m ready, I think. Where should I put my clothes?”

Undyne takes them and chucks them on a nearby chair. “There we go. Now, human,” she grabs Aofil’s arm again, “let’s run!”

Alphys waves them goodbye and Undyne takes lead immediately. Aofil follows, way behind.

The pavement eventually gives way to the dirt road leading to Mt Ebott. Undyne wipes her forehead and chugs another gulp of water. “Never thought I’d run up Mt Ebott, let alone with a human.” She rubs her hands together in excitement and starts her ascent. “Let’s go, Aofil!”

She gets a pained breath as an answer and stops to wait. “How, how are you this fast, Undyne? I understand you being that downhill, but on flat ground as well?” Aofil explains in between gasps for air. “Did you hold back when you chased me?”

Undyne hands Aofil their water bottle. “What do you mean chased? When did I do that?” Aofil chokes on the water and Undyne gives them a rough pat on the back. “You can’t be this tired yet, we got a mountain to climb.”

Too close. Aofil needs to learn how to control their tongue.

The cough from their choking knocks the air out of Aofil, and they lean on their knees as look up the mountain. It looks way bigger for some reason. “Great,” they snark.

Undyne ignores the sarcasm and instead looks around, but she can’t seem to find the path. Aofil walks up to their dirt path and shows Undyne the entrance.

She summons a spear and clears the path from twigs and bushes. ”And up we go, human! You and me, together.”

“After you,” Aofil offers.

“Hahaha!” Undyne shoves Aofil in front of her. “No. You first, I want to get a close eye on you for our glorious battle, ngahaha!”

Aofil catches their breath and looks up the mountain again, it somehow looks even bigger again. How? They step foot on the Mt. Ebott and start their ascent.

A long while later filled with exhaustive breathing from Aofil, Undyne finally overtakes Aofil, only to turn around. “Come on, human! Just one more step!”

The human's tired hand is thrown towards the steep trail. “We’re not even close! We got like, halfway left.”

Undyne spins around and jogs backwards. “Come on, human! Just a couple more steps! Ngah!”

She stumbles on a root and Aofil can’t resist their snicker. With a pout she sits up and rubs her head as Aofil passes. “No,” she firmly informs.

Aofil searches for any roots in front of them. They don’t see any, good. They make a calculated risk and turn around like Undyne did. “What do you mean, no? I’d never laugh at you. Even though you’re as graceful as a fish out of water,” Aofil teases.

Undyne brushes the dirt off herself while shaking her head in disappointment. She summons a spear in her hand. “Congratulations, punk, you’ve just earned yourself an early lunch,” she laughs and throws the spear towards Aofil. It lands just beside them, “some aspearagus!”

Aofil fumbles for the spear, but it melts away in their hand as they grab it. “You’ve saved that one! Admit it.”

Undyne conjures another spear, it’s more violent than the previous one.

“Or did you steal it?”

The spear grows.

“Perhaps,” Aofil continues. Undyne reacts by spinning the spear in her hand. Aofil takes strain on a hole in the ground, “you stole it from Sans?” and takes off up the mountain. They hear a familiar yell behind them, but this time they know that she means no harm. The spear sizzles right next to their ear and they force themselves to run faster. It’s still good motivation though.

“Got you now, human!”

The spear lands between Aofil’s legs and they trip onto the plateau. Undyne smiles as she closes in on their prey. She offers Aofil a hand. “Good run, human. Five minutes rest, then we’ll see what you’re made of, whelp.”

Aofil takes the outstretched hand and stands up on wobbly knees. “Ten minutes? I can show you the cave entrance,” Aofil proposes.

“You know where it is?” Undyne shoves Aofil in front of her again. “Let’s go, we’ll rest when we get there.”

Eventually they both sink down on the edge of the plateau with their legs dangling over the cliff with the mouth of the cave where it all started. The midday sun is blazing them with all its might and they both take another swig of water to ease the heat, Undyne a bit more than Aofil.

She squints against the sun and leans forward on one hand with a pleased exhale. Aofil feels comfortable enough not leaning over the cliff, they’re good with just their legs over it.

“You think we can find your house, Undyne?” Aofil nudges Undyne. “It’s a bit different seeing the town from up here. I’ll show you.” She nods with an excited smile.

Aofil points a bit to the side. “See, there’s my house, and then you walk along the main road,” Undyne follows their finger with bathed breath, “then you take a right there.”

“By that blue house?”

Aofil spots three houses that could be classified as blue, “Blue, how? Like Sans’ jacket?”

Undyne shoves Aofil playfully. “No, like the echo flowers.”

Aofil shoves her back. “I’ve never seen one.”

Undyne narrows her brow. “Um, yes you have.”

Her smile, despite being as joyful as ever, worries Aofil. Hopefully she thinks that Aofil’s just seen an echo flower, not what the echo flower said.

Aofil fakes a laugh. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I have. Whatever, yes, that’s where you take a right, and then-”

“I see it!” Undyne interrupts. “Wow, this is,” her lips starts quivering again, “this is so awesome!” she exclaims.

Aofil taps her shaking shoulder. “Undyne?” She turns around with the most conflicted of expression. Her smile is stretching her chins to the breaking point, and her teeth blind Aofil, but her eyes are wet as the Waterfall. “Your eyes are sweating,” Aofil informs her.

She dries them off. “It’s hot, OK. No laughing, punk,” he sniffles. “You’re not allowed.”

“Relax, I’d also cry the first time I felt the mountain wind in my hair and the warming sun in my face.”

Undyne inhales a huge amount of air. She breathes it out along with an annoyed grunt. “How are you so, so normal about this?” Undyne accuses with a flail of her hand.

Aofil lays down on their back. “About what?” They put an arm over their eyes. ”The sun?”

“Yeah, like, how are you not praising it? It’s amazing!” she sighs again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”

“Ha,” Aofil scoffs, “when it hits you in the eyes in the morning you’ll wish for the nice curtain that was Mt. Ebott.”

“See, how can you do that?”

“I guess I’m used to it that’s all.”

“Not me, not never.”

Aofil sits up again. “Isn’t that bad?”

Undyne drinks another gulp of water with a confused mouth. “What?”

“You know, not wanting to be bored by it. Wouldn’t that mean that you’ll never be used to it? Never really fully return to the Surface.”

Undyne opens her mouth to answer, but she says nothing. Her head sinks down on her hand and she stares at the landscape in front of her. Aofil leans back, to give her some space to think. They admit to themselves that they’re curious to see her reaction, to see how she reacts now that she isn’t used to it. Wait, are they taking advantage? Is this OK to do?

“Haha, I see what you’re doing,” Undyne rolls over her shoulder and flips up on her feet. “You’re trying to confuse me before our match.”

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“Oh, yes you did, human!” Undyne throws a spear next to Aofil. “Now,” and summons one for herself, “let’s do this. You can touch it, it won’t hurt you.”

She kicks up dirt as she assumes her fighting position. “Can’t make the same promise though.”

Aofil picks it up and weighs it in their hand. It’s light, in both senses, yet still firm enough to be comfortable blocking with. They balance it on a finger and just like before they can’t seem to find where the center of gravity ends. It stays in their hand no matter how they hold it. The edge is blunt, to not kill during their training, they assume. They kick up some dust as well as they mimic Undyne’s positioning.

Undyne smashes the handle of her spear into the ground. “A battle with an adult human on the Surface, on Mt. Ebott, with the sun and wind in my face.” She bends down, “This truly is the best ending!” and charges Aofil.

Aofil spins their spear as well. “Bring it!”

Half a moment later Aofil’s on the ground coughing from the impact. The dirt on their face isn’t helping either.

Undyne scratches their head. “You,” she looks a bit disappointed, “you OK? Did I go too hard? I thought humans were stronger than monsters.”

Aofil’s upraised finger asks Undyne to wait a second so that they can catch the air that was knocked out of them. Undyne nods, trying very hard to hide their displeasure.

Aofil coughs out the last of the impact and stands up while stretching their arms over their head. “I,” they cough again, “I’m sorry, wanna go again?”

Undyne pats Aofil carefully on the shoulder. “If you’re up for it?”

“Sure!” Aofil spins the spear in their hand again. They can feel it struggling to stay there.

Again they stand face to face, human versus monster. In the blazing midday sun they prepare for another duel to determine who is the strongest. They both position themselves and this time Aofil is on the attack.

Another half of a moment breezes by quickly as Undyne effortlessly counters Aofil’s attack. They moan as the back of their spear bounces on their stomach.

“Aofil?” Undyne asks as Aofil brushes themselves off again.

They pick up their spear while massaging their stomach. “Yes?”

“Do you want me to show you some basics?”

Aofil spits out some dirt. “I’d love it if you did.”

“First off, whelp,” Undyne starts. She shows Aofil the proper way to hold her spear. She describes how she creates it and how it’s important to the grip. “Knees bent, hands a shoulder’s width between,” she continues. Aofil sees her smile turn genuine as they slash the air holding the spear as she showed them. “Good job, for a punk,” she laughs. Aofil tries to cheekily poke her while her guard is down, but Undyne easily blocks it.

“Hahaha, nice thinking, human. Too bad I’m awesome, otherwise you would’ve hit me,” she praises. Or at least, Aofil thinks it was praise. She then squats down and draws a bunch of shapes in the sand with her spear. Aofil follows as best as they can as Undyne explains different stances and how to counter them. When to be aggressive and when to hold back. This goes on until her mouth is as dry as the ground she’s drawing on.

She refreshes herself with another swig. ”Got it?” Aofil nods, they know the gist of it. Undyne smiles, “Good. Now, here’s how to utilize your reach,” and continues her lesson. Her obscure anime references goes over Aofil’s head, but again, they get the gist of it. Just smile and nod, she’s enjoying herself. They do notice her breathing quickening from talking so much so fast. Aofil is still fascinated over her seemingly endless lung capacity. It’s not the first time they’ve heard her talk while panting.

Undyne finishes her lesson with more sweat than Aofil’s ever seen her wear. “Now you know a bit more about the punk buster, me. Let’s go again!”

Aofil bumps her fist. “You’re going down this time.”

Undyne laughs as she meets the fist. “Looking forward to it.”

The ever so warm sun smiles upon the participants and gives them its blessing. Human versus monster, now a bit more equal. How equal is to be determined.

Undyne summons new spears for her and her opponent. “I’ll go first, you block me!” She attacks a second after.

Aofil manages to parry her first blow and they feel a smirk form. They use her weight against her and slides her spear off theirs, exposing her back. They thrust their spear, but Undyne ducks quickly and sweeps Aofil off their feet.

Undyne offers her hand. “After all I taught you.”

Aofil takes it. “Looks like you’re a worthless teacher.”

She scoffs, “Good thing I don’t have to teach you how not to be a whelp,” and dusts off her sparring partner. “I got my hands full with Alphys already.”

Undyne runs back to her side. “Now you attack me.”

Aofil examines her pose to determine the best approach. They notice that her right leg is out of place and that her shoulders are low. They have an idea. ”You ready?” they warn.

Undyne nods. “Yeah, I’m,” she pauses for a breath, “ready.”

Aofil runs with their spear in their right hand. As they see Undyne switch weight to her left side they sidestep and easily chucks her right leg up in the air.

She falls heavily and Aofil cheers in triumph. “The human is victorious!” They flex like Undyne would and await her laugh.

It’s quiet. Aofil also notices that they’re hand is holding nothing. Where is their spea-

“Shit!”

Undyne is laying still on the ground, face down. Aofil grabs her wet shoulder and turns her around. “Undyne?” they ask her. “Undyne, it’s not funny.”

Wait, they remember this, and after some failed attempts because of their sweaty hand they manage to unscrew their water bottle. They dowse her face and she gasps for air. Aofil helps her sit up. “You good?”

Undyne nods. “Yeah, I’m good, Aof. Thank you.”

“It’s about time for lunch, shall we jog home?”

Undyne collects herself. “Yeah, we should.”

Her shaken voice worries Aofil. She stays quiet for the entirety of the jog back to her house, and it's not exactly making the situation any better.

“Aofil?” Undyne asks as they both ease down in front of her porch. “Could we keep this between us? I don’t want to worry Alphee.”

Aofil nods. “If you say so.”

She smiles and enters with the same glee as she had when she left. “I’m back, Alphee! Where are you, nerd?”

Alphys peeks out of a door with a welding mask flipped up over her head. “Hello, Undyne. You too, Aofil.”

Aofil waves.

Undyne dunks them on the back. “I’m gonna start with the food, feel free to shower, shrimp. You can drop off my clothes in the laundry basket. It's under the faucet.”

“About time I get to use yours. I’m gonna take my time, if you don’t mind!” Aofil closes the bathroom door behind them. “To make it fair!” they shout through it.

Aofil hears Undyne laugh again through the bathroom door. Muffled threats towards tomatoes and other food makes it ways through as well. Aofil again struggles to get out of their clothing. This time it’s because of the sweat and not some unruly zipper strapped to a cumbersome cloak. They can almost hear the ‘plop’ sound as they finally get the shirt off over their head.

The water flows nicely over them, washing away the dirt and sweat. They close their eyes. It almost feels like the first day. The first day before the reset, not now, that is. Hopefully this house’s plumbing is a bit more cleverly constructed than their own house.

Aofil’s interrupted by a knock on the door and they turn off the water. “At least an hour more until it’s fair, Undyne,” they shout against the door.

“Um, I,” it stammers back, with Alphys’ voice, “Und-dyne was wondering what you want to drink.”

“Anything really, surprise me,” Aofil answers.

“What do they want?” Undyne asks, presumably from the kitchen.

“Surprise,” Alphys shouts back.

A moment passes.

“We don’t have any of that. Is it a human drink?”

“I d-don’t know, let me ask them.”

“There’s no human drink called ‘Surprise’,” Aofil answers before Alphys can ask them.

“There’s none,” Alphys relays.

“I know! That’s why I’m asking,” Undyne replies.

Aofil wraps a towel around themselves and opens the door, startling Alphys in the process. “Undyne?”

“Yes, whelp?”

“Do I have to pour water in your ears as well? I don’t mind what you have, it’s fine. I’ll drink whatever.”

Undyne hair pokes out from the kitchen followed by the rest of her. “You’ll regret asking for that, neeb,” she warns.

“If I can survive your training I can survive your drinks.”

She dives back in. “You got me there, human.”

Aofil shakes their head before apologizing to Alphys for scaring them.

“It-t’s OK, Aofil.”

Aofil goes back inside and turns on the water again. They lean back and laugh to themselves. Even after this reset, these monsters still surprise them. They pick up a bottle of... Scale lotion? It smells like, pink. Aofil nods to themselves, another mystery solved. They rub some on their arm, seems to work on skin too.

As they step out of the shower something catches their nose. Something, off. Is it their clothes? No. Themselves? No, they smell pink. What is it then? They recognize it from, somewhere? Somewhere before the reset? Yes. But when, and where?

The answer seeps through the gap above the bathroom door. It’s just how Aofil remembers it, a dark cloud summoned by Undyne’s cooking.

“Dammit.”


	37. Smoke and then water

"You need help, Aofil?"

The sock in their hand curls up and Aofil struggles to confine their irritation from bursting out and is forced to put their hands over their mouth. After a calming exhale they lean back on the cold curb and try again to get their sock on.

"I know how hard it is to get wet socks on," Undyne continues. "You really have to roll it up all small and stuff."

Aofil lifts a finger that begs for Undyne's silence. "Undyne," they address her very carefully, "you sure this is the right question to ask at the moment?"

Undyne fans away some embers. "What do you mean?"

“Like, I don’t know?” Aofil throws their hand, "How did you manage that?" and present the inferno that was Undyne and Alphys' house. Like snakes the flames dance on the modern home, licking up everything in its path. A window explodes from the heat and Alphys jumps.

"I thought that the human stoves could handle my dete-" Undyne is interrupted by an elbow in her side from Alphys.

"Determination?" Aofil pries.

The soot on Alphys and Undyne does nothing to hide their color draining from them. Aofil realizes their mistake and they shift their face into worry to try to hide their blunder. “Sorry, is it something bad?”

Alphys nods.

“It’s something we didn’t think you’d know,” Undyne explains with a small shiver to her voice. “We thought it only existed in the Underground.”

Aofil tilts their head up in acknowledgment despite knowing that it is a lie. They dodged a bullet, again. They remind themselves, again, to keep their tongue in check, their luck might run out. With a final pull they finally manages to get their sock on. They slip into their darkened shoes and stand up.

They find themselves in a thick cloud of foul smelling smoke and they sit right back down again. On top of the toxicity of the smoke they’ll rather not go through another episode like before. They guess that it was because of some magical residue or something in the smoke. But from who?

They tilt their head towards the monsters next to them. Undyne’s magic is strong, but Aofil has only seen her conjuring spears. Wait, didn’t she say something about green magic? Aofil inspects the layer of toxic fumes above them, but it doesn’t seem particularly green to them.

What about Alphys? Aofil leans forward to get a view of them. Yeah, what about Alphys? She had, um... Aofil snaps their fingers to jog their head.

“What are you thinking about?” asks Alphys.

Tinkering, yes. That’s her magic. Whatever that means. She’s good at that, Aofil admits, very good in fact. But what exactly does it mean, exactly?

“Hey, Alphys?” they ask before catching their tongue in the last second. They can’t just ask, they’re not supposed to know about it. Damn these time shenanigans.

“Yes, Aofil?”

Aofil stalls for time with their hand. “Um, shouldn’t we hide or something?”

“Why would we do that?” Undyne intersects. “Also, hide from whom?”

“The fire department, the human fire department.”

“Ah, the one you called?” Undyne nods.

“The one I tried to call, yeah,” Aofil motions for the house again, it’s now fully engulfed by the fire, “but since there’s no landline I couldn’t get through. But they’ll come eventually,” and then waves their hand in the smoke. “This is not a normal sight for us humans. Someone’s bound to call. I’m not sure how they’ll react seeing you here. They might even think that you were responsible for it.”

Alphys and Undyne glance at each other and Undyne opens her mouth. “Um, we kinda were.”

Aofil waves away the comment. “You know what I mean, that they’d think you did it out of malice. They would probably have other questions as well so I guess we should let them do their thing alone while we sneak off. If we hurry we could probably get to my place before the rain starts. Unless anyone else is home?”

Undyne’s emerging smile parts the black ash on her face. “Rain?”

“Yeah, I saw some dark clouds heading this way.” Aofil bends themselves under the ashen cloud above them. ”You coming?”

Undyne follows Aofil up. “Yup, the rest are out on errands and stuff,” she freezes. “Oh no, Toriel will see this.”

Alphys’ eyes also shoot wide open in realization and she grips her tail. “And Asgore!” Her grip tightens. “The machine,” she whispers out.

Undyne shakes her head, “You’re not going back in for some toy you made, Alphys,” before also freezing in place. “No, the anime,” she turns her head towards the house, but Aofil stops her by grabbing firmly onto her arm.

“Don’t be stupid, you go in there you’ll faint again. You’ve already done it once today, and that’s one too many. We’ll figure something out when we get back to my place,” they whisper so that Alphys doesn’t hear in an attempt to calm Undyne down. Luckily she relaxes just before Aofil loses their grip.

Undyne narrows her brow. “I wasn’t about to just charge in there.”

Aofil lets Undyne go. “Oh, um, sorry.”

Undyne smiles. “Good form on the lock though, seems like something got through to you.”

An alternating siren accompanies flashes of red and blue, and Aofil beckons for the forest. “We’ll take a detour. You remember the way, Undyne?”

Undyne grabs Alphys and follows Aofil through the trees. “We should be behind the echo flower house now, correct?”

“Echo flower house?” Alphys wonders from atop of Undyne’s shoulders, her hands covering her head from the trees around her, but Undyne is agile enough to not hit any twigs.

“Yes, we should be behind it now. We’ll go around the church and-” Aofil spots the rain clouds gathering over their house. “Never mind, we’re gonna risk it and cross a yard. If we move fast enough they’ll only catch your silhouette. Button your coat and keep your chin down and tail hidden, Alphys.”

The three darkened friends move like shadows through the trees. Ash and soot falls off them with every dodge of shrubbery and branches. Aofil glances periodically towards the clouds moving ever closer. They’re not in that big of a hurry this time around. No hole to patch up, no paint to keep dry. Still, they’d like to get out of these soot covered clothes as soon as possible, and if they can, keep Undyne and Alphys out of sight.

A few close calls later they arrive on Aofil’s doorstep. They pat themselves and find their key after a couple of panicked seconds.

Undyne bends down so that Alphys gets through the door. “Could we borrow-”

“My shower?” Aofil interrupts.

“We’ll be quick this time,” Undyne promises with a smile. She sprints up the stairs leaving a trail of soot falling gently down behind her on the floor and a strip very similar to the one she left at the Town Hall. Aofil decides to stay in the hallway, if they move they’ll just make a bigger mess than there already is.

A series of knocks on their front door startles them. Aofil stifles a loud curse as ash falls down and nestles itself comfortably in between the floorboards.

They fling open the door. “Yes?” they answer despite not calming down entirely.

The man outside flinches and almost drops his notebook and pencil. He eyes Aofil’s darkened form before plastering an innocent grin on his lips. “Good day, I come from the local press and I’d like to ask you a few questions if you have the time.”

Aofil raises an eyebrow before realizing that it won’t be visible. “The free one?”

The journalist nods proudly. “It’s free for the people, that’s our motto. To bring you the best and most unbiased news there is.”

Aofil doesn’t move a muscle.

“Anyways,” the journalist tries again, “we’re conducting an investigation.” He leans in closer, but moves a bit back when Aofil leans in as well. “About the monsters. Have you read today’s paper?”

“In a sense, yes.”

The journalist is confused by Aofil’s snicker, but he shakes it off. ”Then you know that monsters have returned?”

Aofil is unable to stop their smile from growing. “Yeah, I think I’ve seen a few of them around.”

The journalist’s face lights up in anticipation and he licks his pencil. “Tell me, which have you seen? What did they do?”

“I don’t really know what I saw. Do you have any description to help me?”

The journalist nods excitedly, “Yeah, sure, let’s see,” and flips through his notes. “Ah, here we go. There’s been sightings of large, white, and somewhat cow shaped monsters around the Mayor’s office.

Aofil’s cheeks fight to contain their amusement. “Cows, you say? Interesting.”

“Yes. There’s also been reports of a large skeleton terrorizing the street.”

“How,” a small laugh escapes Aofil’s grasp. “Sorry about that. How are they terrorizing the street?”

The journalist scours the page. “Something about it trying to kidnap old ladies.”

Aofil can’t believe their ears. “Papyrus?”

The journalist looks up from his notes. “No, it’s my handwriting. I don’t write machine.”

An awkward silence hangs for a couple of seconds as they both try to deduce what the other person just said.

“And also,” the journalist resumes after an awkward cough, “there’s was something about a dinosaur shaped like an obese child with a tail.”

Aofil folds in half and the floor below them is once again covered in soot. They take support on the door frame and lets out another guffaw. The journalist takes a step back, both to protect himself from the ash, and because of the sudden burst of laughter.

He hesitates to extend a helping hand. “You OK?”

Aofil manages to halt their laugh for a moment. “Yeah. It caught me off guard, sorry.”

The journalist flips back the pages on his notebook. “So, um, have you seen any?”

Aofil hears wet footsteps behind them. “No, sorry, none of those sound familiar.” They grab the door, “Bye, good luck with your investigation,” and closes the door in the waving journalist’s face.

Their remaining smile turns upside down as they see the black hand print they left on the wood.

A wet finger taps their shoulder. “Told you we would be quick,” Undyne nods as she dries off the soot on Aofil’s now gray towel she’s wrapped herself with. “Where can we hang our clothes?”

A faint but consistent tapping on the window is quickly replaced by a torrent of water crashing heavily down. Aofil manages to dodge the window still this time and they peek through the blinders. “Not outside, I’m afraid.” They spot the journalist entering his car and follows it with their eyes as it rounds the corner.

Alphys scratches some water out of her ear. “Rain?”

A crack of lightning illuminates the room. Aofil counts the time, and a couple of seconds later the thunder hits, shaking the house like a small earthquake.

“Not close. Good, means I can shower.” They turn around. “You two doing alright?”

Alphys’ tail is locked tight between her hands. The same can be said for her, Undyne’s got her in a grip no locksmith could ever open. Alphys is having a hard time breathing.

Aofil scoffs. “It’s just thunder. Come on, you’ve heard it,” they catch themselves in the nick of time, ”zero times.”

Undyne eases her grip. “I know! Didn’t think it would be so-”

Another flash lights up their frightened faces and Aofil counts the seconds again. A bit closer now, but still far enough. “Loud?” they ask as the thunder secedes.

“Thunderous,” Alphys corrects. “By the way, why are you counting?”

“Didn’t I tell you before that sound travels? Like light?”

Alphys thinks for a short while before nodding to herself. “Yes, light was much quicker than sound,” she measures the distance with her claws, “and because of that it takes longer for sound to travel from the point of impact.”

Another thunder cracks and she squeals in fright. Aofil nods. “You’re right on the money, Alphys.”

“Well, yeah, of course she is!” Undyne intercepts with a huff. “She’s the Royal Scientist.”

Alphys shifts her eyes before agreeing.

Aofil heads for the staircase. “Anyway, I’ll hang up your clothes to dry somewhere.”

“I-I could probably build something if I had some tools. I saw a hairdryer and I t-think I can make it better,” Alphys suggests.

“Tools are in the shed,” Aofil pauses. “The very wet shed, unfortunately.”

Undyne flexes, “I got it, human. Your Surface rain ain’t got nothing on me,” and heads toward the kitchen door.

“I got keys for the shed!” Aofil reminds. “If you would be so kind could you use them instead of kicking down the door.”

“I weren’t.”

“Yes, you were,” Aofil points towards the key cabinet next to the front door. “It’s the ring with the green lawn mover.”

Aofil can hear Undyne mumble something about Asgore replacing the shed door so it’s not a problem if she kicks it down before they enter the bathroom for another shower.

On the towel rail hangs wet and slightly darkened clothes, Alphys and Undyne’s. Underneath is a puddle of dark gray water. Aofil mops it away and puts a bucket in its place. They then wash off their own clothes and hang it up next to the other.

Shower. Again. Shower with rain outside. Not again. Another lightning strike hits approximately, Aofil counts, seven seconds away. It’s moving closer, but still not close enough.

The storm seems more violent this time around. What gives? Aofil leans back to ponder. They’ve not done anything that could affect the weather? Or have they? They think for a bit.

Meeting them differently can’t affect, breaking a sofa can’t affect. Piano music? Nah.

Ah, the grass. They didn’t burn it this time. Though, the pile was not big enough to cause any change. It would’ve been much, much larger to do something noticeable. Let’s see, what else?

“Um, Aofil?”

They turn off the water. “Yes, Alphys? You want the hairdryer?”

No answer. Aofil guesses that she nodded in response and is now blushing with embarrassment. They grab the hairdryer and open the door.

Alphys is covering her red face with both of her hands. She lifts one and takes the hairdryer before quickly disappearing down the stairs. Guess Aofil was right about that.

Aofil flicks on the water again, squirts some gel into their hand, and attempts to wrestle the soot out of their hair. Now, where were they? What else has happened? They look down. Oh yeah, they saw their soul. They say the words out loud and it sounds just as ridiculous.

They hover their hand over their chest. Can they do it again? Bring it out? They flex their fingers, nothing. They grab where it emerged, nothing. They close their eyes and try to visualize it in their hand. The warm and red glow, the cracks, the missing piece. It was pulsating softly, like their real heart. Something touches their hands, something that isn’t water from the shower. Something warm, and sticky? Aofil opens their eyes.

A small clump of ash lies in their hand. With a disappointed frown they shake it off and pat themselves on the chest. “You’re probably better staying inside there to be honest. Wouldn’t want my determination spilling everywhere.” They hang on the word 'determination'. Something’s not quite right.

Aofil snaps their head up, flicking clumps of ash on the tiles behind them. Determination! Undyne said that she had it! Does she think of the monster’s destruction as well when exposed to magic? Aofil shakes away the idea, flicking more clumps around them. No, that can’t be right.

They finally manage to get the last gunk out of their hair and they rinse it down the drain. With that out of the way they turn the shower head to their surrounding to clean the ash off before it sticks permanently.

Is monster determination different from human determination? Is her soul also red? Is it really a curse if everyone has it? Dammit, they can’t ask, not yet.

Aofil shuts off the water and dries themselves off with the last clean towel. They wrap it around themselves and try one more time to summon their soul. It’s fruitless. They shrug and leave the bathroom to fetch some clothes with colors other than soot gray.

Undyne has left the patio door open, Aofil notices as they head into the kitchen. As they close it they notice wet footsteps leading into the dining area. Aofil is reminded that they’ve not fixed the window by a growing puddle on the window still. They walk back to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels. They dry the window still and roll out the rest of the paper on it. They’ll figure out something more permanent later.

The sound of metal hitting metal causes Aofil’s head to turn. “Ah, you done tinkering?” they ask Alphys.

She pokes a coil with her screwdriver. “I’m trying to figure out what this is.”

“Can’t help you there, unfortunately.”

She pokes it again, but this time she hovers her other hand over it. With a focused look she nods to herself and flick her claw. The motor inside whirs loudly and then relaxes. She nods again and mutters to herself in thought. “So it’s about heat.”

Aofil gives her a pat on the back wishes her luck in her fiddling. She nods absently.

“She’s in her nerd mode,” Undyne explains from the living room. Aofil joins her after some careful maneuvering around her wet footprints. “She’ll be back to her normal geeky self in a moment.”

Aofil stops dead in their tracks. “Undyne?”

She peeks up from her manga. “Yes, whelp?”

Aofil points to the cloth around her. “Why is your towel dry?”

She furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

“It’s raining outside.”

Undyne nods. “Yes?”

“And you went outside.”

She nods again, a bit more sarcastically. “Yes?”

“In the rain. You know, the wet rain.”

Her eye narrows, “You think I went out there,” and her smile flashes as she tugs at her towel, “without it?”

Aofil looks out the open window. At the flat grass, and her running through it. They shake the images out of their head and Undyne laughs at the spectacle. She flicks her wrist and a spear with a concave end forms in her hand. She holds it over her head and laugh even louder when she sees Aofil’s dumbfounded face. “You humans are strange,” she chuckles as the magical umbrella sizzles away.

“Look who’s talking!”

“I-I think I’m done,” Alphys informs as she waddles in with the hairdryer in her hand.

Aofil gives her a thumbs up. “Ah, neat. Let’s go upstairs and test it.”

They all enter the upstairs bathroom and Aofil plugs it into a socket, to their relief it doesn’t short circuit the entire house. “OK, so how does it actually work?”

“I-I infused it with a bit more magical power, should be more efficient.”

“Fair enough, let’s test it.”

Aofil moves it closer and powers it on. Two purple legs sprout out of it and it jumps out of their hand. It runs up to the towel rack and starts drying the clothes.

Aofil inspects their now empty hand with a disbelieving face. “Efficient as in it works alone?”

Alphys taps her claws nervously. “Y-yeah, I should’ve probably told you that.”

The hairdryer seems happy to work alone. Too happy, according to Aofil. It’s the second tool they’ve had that’s run away from them. Just a matter of time now before Alphys programs their house to tap dance down the street.

They carefully step over the flailing cord. “Shall we do something while we wait for it to finish?”

“You said something about anime?” Undyne smiles sheepishly.

“Sure, why not?” Aofil nods. “I’ll see if I can fix some snacks.” They head for the stairs. “My computer is in the room after the master bedroom. Should be easy enough for you to figure out how to get it going, just open the internet.”

Undyne grabs Alphys and bolt towards the room.

After some searching Aofil finds a bag of popcorn. They put it in the microwave and while it’s popping they replace the soaked towels on the window still with another roll. They also clean up the remaining wet footsteps before the microwave dings.

They pour the popcorn into a bowl. “You guys found something?”

“Yeah,” Undyne answers, “I think I found something.”

Aofil samples a popcorn as they take a step onto the staircase. “What’s it about?”

“Something about people doing some strange battles, never seen it before. A lot of girls in different clothes. There’s magic involved.”

“Sounds very anime to me. You like that sorta thing?”

“Grown up stuff? Yeah.”

A suspicion dawns on Aofil as they near the room. “Grown up, how? More importantly, how did you find it?”

They push the door open.

“We just searched for adult anime,” Undyne answers before starting the video.


	38. You wanted paper or plastic?

"Undyne, Alphys, let's keep this between us."

They both nod in silence.

"I thought," Undyne wants to explains.

Aofil stops her. "It's OK, Undyne. Let's just leave it here."

Alphys wrings her shirt. "Sorry that we downloaded it."

"I'll delete it."

They all try desperately not to meet each other’s eyes as Undyne and Alphys heads out the door. Shouldn’t be a problem keeping a low profile with all this rain, but Aofil is still a bit worried they’ll be seen by any humans though.

Undyne conjures a faint umbrella that covers her and Alphys. Some quiet sizzling as the rain hits the magic reaches Aofil’s ear, but without knowing where it came from they probably wouldn’t think that it was magic. Probably.

They shake their head, better not risk it. “Undyne, take mine instead,” they shout into the rain and toss a more human looking umbrella towards them. “We humans don’t really have luminescent umbrellas.” Undyne catches it elegantly and flips it open. Aofil closes their door and the rain goes from deafening to cozy as they return upstairs.

Their computer screen is frozen and the frame it shows fills them with, confusion. The worst part is, they don’t feel disgusted, and they hate themselves for that. They delete it before they can change their mind, however slim that chance may be. A text box flashes on their screen as the file disappears warning them that they have a virus.

“They couldn’t have known, they’ve never used one. Calm down,” Aofil reminds themselves as they start a scan of their computer. Three hours is the estimated time.

What now? What to do? Besides pouring bleach into their eyes? How about working on their credentials, the thing that they were supposed to do today?

Their stomach grumbles loudly in protest. Aofil looks down on the spilled popcorn that was thrown in the air as they jumped for the pause button. Now it lays sprawled over their floor like pebbles on a beach. If they can avoid it, they’d rather not eat them. But they’ll sweep it later, food first.

The empty cupboards and fridge reminds them that they haven’t gone to the store this time around. A hollow cry echoes from their stomach as they open the freezer. There’s one thing there that can be eaten, but Aofil’s not sure if they want.

“No,” they whisper out.

“Yes!” screams their stomach.

The glass container is cold and what’s inside is even colder. Aofil taps on it with a spoon, it’s rock solid.They wonder how it’ll smell once they warm it up. Their imagination runs wild and combined with the rumbling they feel a bit unwell. They defrost it in the microwave regardless as being hungry will only make it worse.

They return upstairs and sweep up the popcorn while simultaneously fighting their urge to eat some. The microwave dings a while later and Aofil lifts the tray out with a pair of oven mittens. They take a small sniff, smells mostly of dough. Phew.

The pie provides a bit of resistance, but as the knife cuts deeper it hits liquid, and Aofil’s stomach turns. No, it shouldn’t be liquid. Did they microwave it for too long?

They lift up the piece and what was once was a snail is now spilling onto the countertop with a splash. Aofil’s starting to regret this.

They scrape the melted snail into the sink and flush it down. Guess that they’re just gonna eat the dough. After they scrape away as much snail slime as they can, that is.

It’s dry, very dry, but at least it’s solid and not slimy like the snails. Aofil puts a hand over their mouth and berate themselves for reminding them about the slime and the guts.

“Just eat it. Don’t think about it, just eat it,” their stomach begs with a bit more sympathy.

Aofil closes their eyes and swallows away the nausea. With a shaky hand they take a bite. They roll it around in their mouth, trying to find the faintest hint of snail. They don’t find any and exhale in relief.

The rest of the pie goes down quickly, thankfully. With renewed strength Aofil returns to their writing desk. They crack their knuckles dramatically and pick up their pencil.

Half an hour later their head is on the desk. On the page is just one line of text, their name and address. They’ve no idea what they’re doing, and now they got nothing to blame it on. They sigh for the third time in the span of a minute and roll on their cheek. Their fourth sigh blows their pencil off the desk. They make no effort to catch it.

“How am I bored?” they ask the air in front of them. “I got a soul, monster friends, and a hairdryer with legs.” They blow the paper off the desk, might as well. “Sans, if you’re listening, can you shortcut me to the store so that I can justify not writing this?”

Silence, like the wind. Aofil’s hopes shines and they focus on the air around them. The smallest gust could be him.

They catch themselves looking very silly doing so and they sink down in their chair for a while before bending over to pick up their paper.

“you rang?”

The table rattles violently as Aofil’s head hits its underside with a loud bang.

“what’s that expression, knock on wood?”

Aofil massages their head while breathing through clenched teeth. One tear manages to escape their eye before they get their pain under control.

“in your case it’s head on wood, aof.”

Aofil stiffens their upper lip, “How did you know?” before breathing out some more pain.

Sans shrugs, “i didn’t, whatever it was,” and opens his wet jacket. “undyne told me to bring you this.”

Aofil grabs the soaking umbrella. It drips for a couple of seconds before they realize that it shouldn’t be here. They beckon for Sans to follow them and he drags his feet after them.

Aofil returns their umbrella to its stand. “It was nice of you to come around though, besides the umbrella. I need you to shortcut us to the store so that I can stock up with groceries. Not much food at home. Help a friend out, skelebro.”

“how good friends were we before the kid’s reset?”

“Why do you ask?” Aofil thinks they detect the faintest blue glow in Sans’ eye. “Is it because it’s trivial?” They massage their head again. No blood on their hand, good. “You seem happy enough to shortcut at the best opportunities. Admit it, you enjoy doing this.”

Sans stance relaxes much to Aofil’s surprise. They didn’t think he could be more relaxed.

“The least you can do is help me with the groceries.”

Sans shrugs.

Aofil picks up the darkened and wrinkled money from the table next to them. “I’ll get you some premium ketchup as payment,” they sweeten with a wink.

Sans grabs Aofil’s hand. “sounds like we were good friends.”

“Wait, I can’t go there with these clothes on me. They’re just for slouching at home, not-” Aofil protests just before they find themselves around the corner from the store.

Rain is falling heavily around them and strands of hair fall into their vision. “Guess that isn’t relevant now.”

“you said.”

Aofil swats the strands away from their face. “Yes, I know. Thank you for getting us here.”

With a confident flip Sans covers his head with his hood and nestles in even more into his jacket. “anytime, aof.”

“Hood is good. Thank you for not wearing shorts as well, would be a pain to explain your shins. Especially to the pastor.”

The sliding doors opens as they near it.

“and the face, the hands, the fact that you’re friends with a monster,” Sans continues.

Aofil nods. “I take it you’re planning on keeping a low profile so I don’t have to go through the effort?”

Sans jumps into a shopping cart. “perhaps.”

The cart rattles again as Aofil leans on it with a sarcastic look towards Sans. “Can I expect your help with the actual shopping?”

“we’re friends.” Sans closes his eyes. “not soul mates.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t need to breathe, last time I shopped here I filled one of these to the brink, and then some.”

But the skeleton is fast asleep.

“We regret to inform our customers that a maximum of five of an item can be bought per family. We apologize for the inconvenience and wish our customers happy shopping,” a speaker informs, filling the general store. Not many people around this time, probably because of the weather.

A couple of bottles lands on Sans’ lap. He picks one up. “hair gel?”

Aofil throws in an extra bottle. “Undyne uses a lot.”

“i thought we were here to shop for you.”

“I,” Aofil interrupts.

“i thought i was here to shop for you,” Sans corrects with no change to his voice.

Aofil rolls their eyes. “Never one to miss an opportunity, Sans.”

“i miss a few”

Aofil can see where Sans is going.

“but my aim is getting better.”

And they don’t take any joy in being correct. Instead they dump another pile of groceries on him, purely on accident of course.

A bony finger manages to wrestle itself out from the hill of products and it points accusingly at Aofil. “you trying to make a statement or something about my humor?” Sans asks with his voice muffled by the bag of rice over his face.

Aofil hangs a shower sponge on his finger. “Would never dream of doing anything like that.”

With a wave of Sans' finger a glass bottle of ketchup falls down from a nearby shelf. Aofil reaches out to catch it, but they miss it.

Sans stops it gently just above the cart. He grabs it and pulls it into his nest of packages along with the sponge. “speaking of dreams,” he pops off the lid and take a swig, “mind telling me what all the ruckus was about last night?”

A package of assorted spices lands in the cart. “Yes, but I know that it won’t deter you from prying.”

“then i’m gonna take a guess and say that it was,” he fakes a thoughtful hum, “something that happened before the reset, probably bad.”

Aofil’s face remains unamused. “That’s a pretty broad guess to be honest.”

“and judging by the way you screamed i’d say that you dreamed about how you killed everyone.”

An avalanche of products entomb Sans as Aofil turns to stone. “How?” they try to say something else, but their heart is in their throat, they can’t get another word out.

Sans hovers a couple of containers of his head, “our sins follow us even through resets, aof. don’t sweat it though, you’re not the only one,” and takes another sip of ketchup. “the kid has their own set of sleeping scares as well. not tonight, obviously, but other times. that i’m positive about.”

It takes effort, but Aofil manages to force their heart back down. “Frisk?”

“yeah. it’s just something you have to live with from now on. that and the knowledge that you killed your friends.”

That’s it. Aofil spins the cart and dips their head towards the pile. “I don’t know how much you remember, but I didn’t kill them,” they snarl with fury. “Why don’t you tell me who your old friend is now that we’re reminiscing about the past that awaits us in the future? Because from I recall, that is what forced Frisk to reset. That is what killed them all.”

Sans caps the bottle. “he’s an old friend, all you need to know.”

Aofil’s stare hardens, “Is that so?” but Sans is unfazed.

Despite his lack of, Sans eyes Aofil. “i don’t remember exactly since i’m not blessed with your allergies,” he meets Aofil’s burning gaze with a forgiving calmness, “but if i went for him i had exhausted everything else. he’s not someone i go to first for answers. not only because he’s as difficult to get hold of as pap is during training with undyne. it would also have been the lesser of the evils i had left to choose from, and that is what scares me.”

Aofil grip relaxes on the cart. “And this business with telling me that I murdered everyone?”

“i don’t know which memories are real or just me trying to make sense of things. i’ve come to realize that the best thing to do is to ask directly. for what it’s worth, sorry.”

Aofil face softens as they’re forced to smile to a passerby with a very confused look on her face.

“I’m gonna risk lashing out against you, but is there anything else in your head that’s unclear, Sans?”

He chuckles. “there’s something about us buying snails for toriel.”

“Yeah, that’s just in your head,” Aofil agrees a bit too fast.

Sans notices. “you sure?”

Aofil hawks. “Yeah, positive.”

Sans shrugs. “anyway, that’s all in the past.”

With a stern push Aofil gets the cart rolling again. “Past past or future past?”

Sans waves the now empty bottle in his hand. “past the point of ketchup.”

“You know that I have to pay for it, right?”

Sans produces another bottle. “would be stealing if you didn’t. i know i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i ever did that.” He casts a glance towards Aofil. “right?”

Aofil manages to let the glance glance off them while still keeping their posture. ”Would be horrible.”

The skeleton returns to his slumber. Aofil covers his mouth with the rice bag to dampen his snoring. They make sure to steer the cart over as many irregularities in the floor as possible on the off chance that the people might hear Sans.

The bag almost shakes loose, but Aofil makes a small cave for it to stay still.

“mt. sans,” comments the pile.

“I can survive falling down Mt Ebott, not sure I can survive falling down Mt Sans. It’s too hollow, nowhere to land after the fall.”

The pile rumbles. “good one.”

Not long after Aofil is forced to break the bad news to Sans. “Sorry, you have to get out now.” They excavate the sleeping skeleton. “We’re approaching the registers, can’t have them scan you.”

After a very long and fake yawn Sans climbs out. “you couldn’t afford me anyway.”

Aofil picks a bag of baking soda out of Sans’ hood before flipping it back up.

“And what’s going on over here?”

“Nothing really,” Aofil answers as they turn around. “My friend here just-” they stop in the middle of their sentence as they see who the voice belongs to.

“Just happened to have some baking soda in their hood? Strange that you just noticed it since the aisle is on the other side of the store.” The suit tilts her head. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

Aofil shuffles Sans behind them. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

The suit nods to herself. ”Yeah, I remember now. I visited you at the hospital. How are your wounds?”

With a quick pull Aofil covers their scarless arms. “They’re fine, thanks for asking.”

“What was it that put you in there now again, can’t for the life of me figure it out.” The suit brows narrow in thought. “Wasn’t it something about a plant?”

The scars might not be there, but the pain is still rooted in their very core. Aofil feels something inside of them sink, like their soul is cowering. Dammit, they thought they were over this. But thinking back at it, the pain, the fear. Why is it so vivid?

Aofil clutches their teeth as they massage their arm. “Yeah, a plant.”

The suit notices and she nods in understanding. “At least it’s healing, right?”

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees weakly.

“Cheer up, you’ll get through this. It’s a miracle that you can walk. It takes a lot of strength, take pride in that.”

The suit’s sympathy is genuine, and Aofil feels a bit better. “Thanks, I will do that.”

“I should be going now, but it was good seeing you,” the suit waves. “By the way, did you remember what date we set for our dinner with her?”

“with who?” Sans asks through Aofil’s legs.

“You know, with, um,” the suit stares blankly as her brain tries to work. “I don’t know, did we even make the reservations?” She fishes up their phone. “Wait, what was your name again?”

“aofil.”

“You sure? Never head it before.” The suit closes her phone. “Whatever, I’ll check it later, need to get some diapers for the kid before the wife gets sourer than the weather. Anyways, good luck.”

The suit disappears around the aisle and Aofil leans on the cart. “This is gonna drive me insane.”

Sans follows the suit through the shelves with his eyes. “like i said, it’s something you have to live with from now on. could happen that we’ll get lucky and survive past the reset point. then it’s back to not knowing for us all.” He scratches his nose. “nightmares will still be around, unfortunately, since the memories are bound to your soul.”

Aofil runs their hands over their face. “You’re not helping, Sans. Also, how do you know all of these things?”

“call it a hobby of mine, a side project.”

“You know anything that might help?”

Sans takes lead. “yes, but you wouldn’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“since i guess we’re friends,” he pauses for effect, “i’m not gonna say it.”

“What?” Aofil huffs. “What could possibly be worse than the things I’ve gone through? “

Sans turns around and meets Aofil with eyes as dark as the void. “the things i’ve gone through,” but after a couple of seconds his pupils fade back. “i’m not really in the mood to compare scars with you.” He snickers gently. “wouldn’t even work since we can’t see them.”

Sans turns back towards the register. “What? You’re just gonna drop it like that, Sans?” Aofil asks befuddled.

“let’s not dwell on the past,” he advises while looking down. “i already got one human i can’t convince, so if you could do it for me it would be nice.”

“But-”

“thanks,” Sans interrupts with a smile. He motions for the cashier, “queue is not long, let’s get in line,” and marches off.

Aofil rushes behind with the cart, but Sans is already waiting at the register. Can’t talk to him now.

“This ketchup bottle feels a bit light,” the cashier remarks. “You want to get another one?”

Sans burps and Aofil taps his shin with the side of their foot. “No, I’ll manage without it,” they smile to the cashier.

They get one in return and the total came in much lower than it was before. Aofil checks the receipt. Ah, no wheelbarrow or building material.

Their head shoots up. Wait, they do need some building material, for the window. They mutter a curse under their breath. “Sorry, Sans, I gotta get something else. Wait here.”

Aofil bolts inside again. What aisle was the iron? Ah, aisle 31. Nice, the hinges are where they remember. Perfect.

“Hey again, kid, how’re you coping?”

No, he’s not supposed to be here. It’s not the same, it’s later than it was before. Why is he here?

“Sorry about ratting you out,” the builder continues. “As I said, I had my own family to think about.”

“It’s fine,” Aofil answers without turning around. “Don’t worry.”

Aofil hears the builder scratch his head behind them. “Worry about what, exactly? Wait, you’re Aofil, right?”

Aofil nods.

“Yeah, you managed to avoid prison? I know I testified against you at that trial and all, but,” the builder pauses, “but I don’t know what for. You’re keeping yourself clean? Yeah, you’re a good kid, like your mom and dad. You wouldn’t get yourself in trouble.” His voice loses its stability. “Why am I not remembering? There was something about the monsters as well. No, what’s happening?”

Aofil walks away, they can’t listen to this anymore. Hopefully he’ll forget if they just go. Please, let them forget.

They pay for the hinges and put them in the same bags as the other stuff. They wave to the sleeping skeleton. “Let’s go.”

Sans catches the tone of Aofil’s voice. “what’s the matter?”

“I met another one with, memories.”

“oh.”

“Yeah. Let’s just go home." Aofil sighs heavily. They'd massaged their forehead if their hands weren't busy carrying their bags of groceries. "Before I can jog his memory further.”

Sans gives Aofil a hand. “sure thing.”


	39. Spit, sniff, but please don't swig

"You have any tips for avoiding that?"

The wind following Sans’ shortcut whistles through the house.

Sans burrows his arm in one of the bags, "avoiding memories?" and picks up a bottle of premium ketchup. His payment.

Aofil moves the bags into the kitchen and starts unpacking. “Yeah. Anything if you know, please.”

“well, the best thing would be to not talk to anyone.”

Aofil waits for a continuation, but there’s none. They cross their arms. “Is that it?”

Sans shrugs. “it’s the easiest solution.”

“I was thinking maybe something more substantial. Like, topics to avoid, signs to look out for. Something you can share from your side project?”

“not without bothering you further.”

Aofil finishes the first bag and begins unloading another. “So just good luck, or what?”

“well, you can try to avoid anything that might be relevant to things before the reset, look for jaws on the floor,“ Sans counts on his fingers, “try to convince them that it’s just deja vu, and so on.”

“So you got nothing that isn’t obvious?” Aofil shakes their head. “Big help there, Sans.”

“i’m trying to help you here, aof,” Sans retorts with a vicious tongue. “you’re not the only one here that’s gone through this. you’re not the only one that has to lie to your friends, and pretend that you don’t know even if it meant them harm.”

His ketchup bottle crashes on the tile floor and with a gust he shortcuts onto the countertop, knocking one of Aofil's bags over and spilling the contents on the floor. With hollow eyes he meets Aofil’s. “don’t think for a second that you’re the first one to experience this. because oh boy do i have some stories to tell you then.”

“Sans,“ Aofil’s head sinks, “I’m sorry. It’s just-”

Sans’ pupils return. “i know, i know. i’m sorry too, didn’t mean to go all mean sans on you, but you have to understand that it’s heavy stuff, for all of us.” He jumps back down on the floor. “no worries though, we’ll get through this. you, me, frisk,” he snickers, “and everyone else,” and hands Aofil a package that fell down from his shortcut.

“It’s gonna be hard,” Aofil puts it in a cupboard. “Speaking of Frisk, they the one you couldn’t convince?”

Sans hands Aofil another package. “yeah.”

Aofil puts it in the cupboard. ”About what, exactly?”

Sans hands Aofil another package, although this time he holds it out of reach for a split second. “i’d rather not tell you.”

Aofil puts it in the almost full cupboard. “If it could help me deal I’m afraid that I have to insist.”

Sans hands stop when Aofil reaches for another package, “it won’t,” but then he gives it.

The cupboard fights as Aofil tries to close it, but in the end it shuts. They hover their hand over it in case it bursts open. It seems to be safe for now though so they pick up a bag of chips and head for the living room.

They sink down in the sunken sofa, “This day, man,” and shove a couple of chips in their mouth.

Sans’ fingers find their way into the bag. “what was it you were doing in the cemetery anyways?”

“Visiting family.”

“that i figured. sorry about your loss, by the way.”

Aofil thanks with a full mouth. Luckily they manage to catch the crumbs flying out of it.

“i might sound harsh now, but that wouldn’t make a human outright puke, right?” Sans helps himself to another handful of chips. “or am i assuming?”

Aofil puts a piece on their tongue. “I saw my soul.”

Sans’ hand halts. “your soul?”

Aofil pats their chest. “Yup.”

“red?”

“Red.”

Sans disappears in thought. Aofil chews on another chip.

After a minute he turns back to Aofil. “can i see it?”

“I don’t know, to be honest. I can’t really summon it willingly.” They grab their chest and focus. “Nope, nothing.”

Sans drums his fingers on his knee. “hm, could i try?”

“I’m allergic to magic, so I’d rather you didn’t do anything.”

“if i said it could help frisk?” Sans sweetens.

“It’s for your sake I’m saying no, Sans.”

Sans flexes his fingers. “i can look after myself.”

“You know what my allergy does?”

“i’ve had firsthand experience with it.”

The bag of snacks goes flying as Aofil dives towards Sans. “Chara? You know anything about them?”

Aofil’s grip is hard, locking Sans in place. Even though they know that he could just shortcut away at any moment they still need to do something. He knows about Chara, Aofil can’t let him go.

“Sans, anything. Please.”

He shakes his head, “you outta have a talk with frisk about them,” and sidesteps Aofil’s hands, “they know about them more than i could ever do.”

Aofil manages to regain their balance after some flailing with their arms that went from grabbing jacket to grabbing just air. “Then just tell me what you know, and I’ll fact check with Frisk,” they plead.

“if they mean so much to you,” Sans scratches his chin, “why didn’t you ask us more before?”

“And risk anyone else knowing that I’m their twin? How’d you think Asgore or Toriel would react to me being the human sibling to their dead child?”

Sans snaps his finger. “right, good thinking.”

“So?” Aofil asks again. “You gonna tell me?”

Sans waves his finger while keeping one eye closed. “no.”

“You serious?” Aofil scoffs in annoyance. “You actually goddamn serious right now?”

Sans nods.

“Look here,” Aofil squats down to Sans’ level. Something’s off, their balance is not quite right. Whatever, “this is my twin we are talking about. They literally fell out of my life, if you know anything.”

Sans’ pocket moves. “i know that they tried to kill you.”

Aofil grabs Sans by the collar. “You wanna repeat that?” They feel how poisonous their words sound, but they don’t care, he stepped over the line. “I said, would you like to repeat that, Sans?”

They wring him closer to them. They want nothing more than to punch that smug grin back into the Underground. “I’m gonna give you one more chance. Don’t step in my way here. Just tell me.”

They only get a chuckle in response and in the blink of an eye he disappears from Aofil’s grip again. ”you’re just like your twin,” he teases from out of sight.

Before Aofil can realize what just happened they’re thrown on the ground and flipped over. They try to stand up, but something is holding them down. No, not something, someone.

“Sans!” Aofil roars. They snap their head in all directions, but Sans is nowhere to be found. “You smiley trashbag, get back here.”

Is he just gonna leave Aofil here or what? Should’ve knocked him out when they had their chance. Lift him up by his round cheeks and flatten him out against the curb. Feel him scream, feel him turn into dust in their hands.

Aofil’s cheeks blossom.

Good.

“again, you really are your twin’s twin,” Sans’ voice bounces around the room before he breezes over to Aofil. He bends down and with a flick of his hand a blue bone materializes over Aofil’s chest. It hovers for a second before Sans commands it down. Aofil flinches.

A blue and irregular glow fills the living room as Aofil’s soul bursts out from their chest to stop Sans’ magical attack.

The bone stops. “wow,” Sans comments, awestruck at the shaking heart in front of him, “it’s broken.” With a careful hand he inspects it. “never seen one like this.”

Aofil looks at their soul. Blue? How is it blue? What has Sans done? Is he gonna break it even more? No, he can’t! It’s a part of Aofil, he’ll kill them.

“Sans, don’t!” Aofil begs. “Don’t touch it, it’ll kill me.”

The pleads snaps Sans back to reality. He sees that Aofil’s eyes are filled with fear and with a snap of his finger Aofil’s soul turns to red again and returns to safety.

Aofil feels a wave of sick spread across them as they feel their soul settle. “What did you?”

Sans releases them and Aofil shoots up before realizing how exhausted they are. They lay down again to try and catch their breath.

“as i said, i know your allergy, so i used some of my magic on you to see if i could bring out your soul. give it a glance, see if it compares to frisk’s.”

He helps Aofil up on their knees. “i’ve no idea how you got it to look like that. it’s not what i expected. although-”

Aofil pushes Sans away. “Could’ve just asked me instead of trying to kill me.” They quell a belch. “I feared for my life, Sans. Why did you do that?” They cover their chest with their hands. “Not cool,” they say with a lot of effort.

Sans eats another handful of chips. “you said you couldn’t summon it, so i had to force it out somehow. doing battle is the only way i know of.” He halts another chip for a second. “well, technically i know of a few, but they wouldn’t leave you alive.”

“Battle?” Aofil quells another belch. “So you actually tried to kill me?”

“no. of course not, why would i want to do that?”

Aofil shakes their head at his tone. “Then what was it? Just something you monsters do on the weekends? Attack each other just for fun?”

“only against humans,” Sans explains.

Aofil throws up a hand, “Well then that’s all fine and dandy!” before realizing that it was a bad idea to move around so quickly. A burp summoned from the deepest of their stomach escapes their mouth and they feel another wave crash over them.

Aofil struggles to hold their sick in. “Water, please.”

Sans shortcuts a glass of water for them and they drink very carefully. To Aofil’s relief it helps immensely.

“Wait, humans? Like the kids?” Aofil realizes. “Did you attack Frisk as well?”

Sans hawks and lets his eyes wander.

Aofil covers their face with a pair of disappointed hands. “God. Fucking. Dammit!” they scream into them.

They let their hands fall down. “Good thing Toriel helped them.”

Sans doesn’t answer.

“Right?”

Still no answer.

“No. Sans, please,” Aofil feels even more drained than before, “not Toriel as well?”

Sans nods.

“Asgore?”

“was about to.”

“Papyrus?”

Another nod.

“Undyne?”

“well-”

“Yeah, that wasn’t really a surprise,” Aofil agrees. “Alphys?”

“no.”

It’s not much, but Aofil takes it. One that didn’t attack is enough, they can build on that. Aofil sighs in relief. “Good.”

“not directly,” Sans continues.

And there it comes crumbling back down.

“Isn’t there anyone who didn’t want Frisk dead? I know you guys had it in for the kids that fell before, but I thought Frisk was the odd one out. They were just another fallen human that you attacked?”

“yes.”

“And now Frisk is living with the people that tried to kill them?”

Sans thinks for a bit. “yes,” he drags out.

Aofil musters enough strength to stand up, but they do it carefully as to not fold their stomach.

“I don’t know how to feel about this, to be perfectly honest. On the one hand I know that you’re not the people you were down in the Underground, new chapter and all that. You genuinely want to return, and to live with us humans.”

With a tired hand they massage their pounding head. “But on the other hand, six kids and almost Frisk had to die. I can’t believe what I’m saying, but the trial was, is, necessary.” Aofil shakes their head carefully. “Chara was right, Frisk is too damn nice for their own good. Heck, the same can be said for me.”

“i guess they want a family.” Sans picks up the bag of chips again. “or something. i don’t know.”

Aofil sighs. “I guess I’ll add this to the list of things I just have to live with from now on. Knowing that Frisk sleeps in the same house with someone that tried to murder them. Dammit, I’m too sick to be mad at that right now. ”

Sans clears his mouth from chips. “to be fair, frisk told me that toriel only did that to prepare them for the underground.”

“What? She couldn’t follow them? Maybe lead them through it or something?”

Sans throws his hands up, along with the bag of chips. “hey, don’t be mad at me, aof. i’m just the messenger, again.”

Chips rain around Aofil, like leafs on a autumn day, though a bit saltier.

“now that we’ve cleared that up.”

“Not in the slightest,” Aofil shakes their head, “but continue. As I said, I’m too nauseous to be angry right now.”

“i’ll make it up to you later.”

Aofil waves the empty glass. “You can start by fetching me a refill.” It disappears from their hand along with Sans. Aofil keeps their hand in the same shape and the glass is returned a moment later. They take a sip. “Thank you.”

“anytime, aof.”

“Not nearly close to what I expect in return,” Aofil states very firmly.

Sans shrugs. “it’s something. now, about your soul.”

“What about it?”

“it’s red, and it looks like something pap would make.”

Aofil peeks from over the glass. “You’re on thin ice, Sans,” they swallow with frustration and massage their chest, “but you’re not wrong.”

“it’s very clean though. it should be leaking determination all over the place.”

Aofil finishes their water and look down at their chest. With a curiosity they regret having, they clear their throat as thorough as they, can and spit into the glass. It looks, sickly.

“Well ain’t that disgusting.”

Sans throws away the plastic bag in his hand and snatches the glass out of Aofil’s. He swirls it around with a furrowed forehead and with his eyes focused on the liquid. He knocks on the glass, and mumbles something about the viscosity.

“If you drink that I’m gonna kick you right in the chin and then vomit, Sans.”

“vomit? like what you did at the cemetery?” He vanishes for a moment before returning with a wet jacket. “nevermind, forgot about the rain. it has probably washed away by now.” He nods to himself. “probably for the best, no new amalgamate to deal with.”

He whispers something else under his breath that Aofil fails to catch.

They smack their tongue to try and get rid of the taste. It tastes just as sickly as it looks. ”So what, am I just filled with determination or whatever, and it’s just spilling out all inside me from my soul?”

Sans gives the glass another whirl. “looks like it.”

“Is it toxic, should I worry?”

“has it happened before? how did you feel then?” Sans pries with a curiosity Aofil’s never seen him have.

“Mostly exhaustion, like how I feel right now.”

“good,” Sans nods absently. His focus is entirely on the liquid Aofil just spat out. Aofil’s pretty sure he’d touch it he was alone.

“So?”

Sans tears his eyes away from the glass. “hm?”

“You gonna give it back?”

He pockets it. “i’m gonna say no.”

“You know how weird that sounds, right?”

“yup,” he assures, “but as i said, it could help frisk.”

“You plan on giving it to them?”

Sans face turns sour. “of course not. that’s disgusting.”

“If you’re gonna be like that, maybe don’t look at it like you’re planning on mixing it with soda.”

Sans waves the comment away and picks up what remains of the bag of chips. He offers some to Aofil. They firmly decline.

Sans helps himself to some more if that’s the case. “you know, your soul is a good counter to the more scary side of your allergy.”

Aofil dries their mouth with their arm sleeve. “The thoughts?”

“yeah, let’s call them that.” Sans finishes the bag, although to be sure he peeks his head inside to make doubly sure that he hasn't missed any stray ones. “it seems like your soul can’t contain the determination that your allergy is producing. instead it leaks all over you, giving you those cheeks and eyes along with the thoughts, but since it’s leaking your body eventually fills up, so to speak.”

Aofil touches their still hot cheeks. “How do you know all this?”

“i’m just guessing.”

Aofil feels their cheek sting a bit and they give them a final rub. “So, what now?”

“i got some monster science to do,” he looks around, “and you got some cleaning to do.”

“You’re not gonna help me?”

“as i said, i got some research to do,” Sans reminds. ”so, bye.”

The chips are sucked into the air and spread even further as Sans disappears. Aofil sits back down heavily into the sofa. It complains as much as they do. They look at the mess on the floor, and in the kitchen, and just shake their head. No, not now. Too tired. Having their soul exposed twice today is two times too many. Just a nap, and then they’ll get right on it.

They wake as a flash of lightning hits them in the eyes and they sit up with a tired grunt. Urf, they feel just as tired as they felt when they closed their eyes. They lean their face into their hand and breathe out. Just put something in the microwave while they clean and then collapse in bed. They manage to muster a smile. Sounds like a plan.

“HUMAN, YOU’RE AWAKE!”

Papyrus’ voice jolts Aofil wide awake as they’re startled beyond belief.

“GOOD AFTERNAP, AOFIL!”

After some frantic breathing Aofil finds Papyrus sitting in a chair with a magazine. A messy word jumble is exposed showing a wild amount of circles. Aofil can’t deduce a single word.

“W-when did you get here, Pap?”

“AN HOUR OR SO AGO! SANS TOLD ME THAT HE NEEDED THE HOUSE!”

Aofil notices the wet shoes he’s wearing. “Yes, but why here?”

“BECAUSE WE SAID THAT WE WOULD WATCH THE LIGHTNING TOGETHER! IT WAS NICE OF SANS TO PUSH ME OUT OF THE HOUSE SO THAT I COULD REMEMBER!” Papyrus looks down and turns his foot on the carpet, much to Aofil’s dismay. ”PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR FORGETTING, I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

Aofil notices a familiar smell.

“I ALSO BROUGHT MY SPAGHETTI AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ALSO PROMISED MY BEST BUDDY!”

“Sans needed the house?”

“YES! DON’T WORRY ABOUT MY BEDTIME THOUGH!” Papyrus stands up with a posture summoned from the noblest of intentions. “BECAUSE TONIGHT, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL KEEP YOU GUARDED FROM NIGHTMARES! LIKE HOW UNDYNE DID!”

Aofil can’t for the life of them figure out how his scarf blows despite there not being any wind in the house. It has to be magic, somehow.

Papyrus notices their confused look. “I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE STUNNED BY MY HONOR AND DEDICATION TO MY FRIENDS! BUT TRUST ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WHEN I SAY THAT IT’S MY DUTY AS A ROYAL GUARD TO PROTECT MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY FROM MAGIC, HUMANS, AND DREAMS ABOUT JERRY JOINING THE ROYAL GUARD!”

“Undyne’s orders?”

Papyrus cheeks blush, luckily it’s from embarrassment. “NOT REALLY, I SORTA FIGURED IT OUT FROM THE SPEECHES SHE GAVE, AND THE THINGS SHE MUMBLED IN HER OFFICE WHILE I WAS OUTSIDE HER WINDOW!”

Aofil decides not to ask further and instead they shift the subject. “So, the spaghetti?”

Papyrus rushes to the boiling pot. “SOON DONE!” he informs after sampling a very stiff noodle.

Another flash of lightning illuminates Papyrus’ face and Aofil can’t help, but feel warmed by the sheer joy present in it. It’s as bright as the flash itself. He skips back gleefully to Aofil and extends his mitten.

“COME, LET’S EAT!”

Despite the confusion Aofil still takes the mitten. “Didn’t you say it had to cook a bit longer?”

“YES,” he blushes again, “BUT-”

“You want to sit outside and see the lightning?”

His head almost pops off Papyrus nods so fast.

Aofil gives in to the innocence in front of them. “Let me just get a jacket. You want one too?”

“MY ARMOR WILL PROTECT ME!”

“Then please, oh great Papyrus, could you give me a serving of your famous spaghetti?”

Papyrus’ squeal of glee almost shattered every piece of glass in the house.


	40. Future of the memories

"HUMAN!"

Aofil jolts awake.

"HUMAN, WHY?"

They burst out the bedroom door with eyes darting for Papyrus. They find him cowering in the chair Undyne used the night before, crying, and fighting against his dream.

Aofil shakes him awake. "Wake up, Papyrus! It’s just a-" they halt for a second. Papyrus eyes burst open and he scrambles in his chair.

“It’s just a dream,” Aofil comforts, even though they know it’s a lie.

Papyrus looks around in panic. "Don't worry, Pap. I'm here!” Aofil leans into his sight. “Look at me!” They manage to catch his attention. “It’s fine. Relax, I’m here.”

Despite Aofil’s calming words they still see that Papyrus is unsure if it’s real. “AOFIL?” he asks.

“Yes, Pap, it’s me. You’re safe.”

He curls up with his arms around his legs, “I’M SORRY, HUMAN!” and his head sinks behind his knees. “I FELL ASLEEP ON MY POST!”

Aofil’s hand finds his sulking shoulder. “I told you I didn't need you to guard me. But forget that. Your dream, what was it?”

Papyrus massages his arm. “FRISK, THEY-” He shakes it away. “NO, IT WAS JUST A NIGHTMARE! FRISK WOULD NEVER HURT US!”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Aofil reassures with a smile. “It’s Frisk, the human kid that saved you all.”

Papyrus embraces Aofil. “IT FELT SO REAL!”

“It’s fine, Pap,” Aofil comforts again. “Do you want to go home to Sans?”

Papyrus shakes his head on Aofil’s shoulder. “NO, I SWORE TO PROTECT YOU!”

“How about we share my bed?” Aofil suggests. “It’s big enough for both of us. And we can protect each other from the nightmares.”

Papyrus nods.

Aofil pats his back one more time. “Come, Pap. Let’s get some sleep."

After a couple more sniffles he nods again and they both crawl into either side of the bed. Aofil hopes that he doesn’t snore like his brother.

He does.

Aofil folds their pillow over their head. How? It’s not possible! He doesn’t have a throat! Is he using his magic to snore? They push the pillow harder against their skull. Hold on, do it for Papyrus.

The snores echo through the house until early morning.

Aofil awakes as they notice the deafening silence. They look at the clock and to their relief it’s not too early. They try to rub the sleep out of their eyes, but stop as they realize that it’s no use. Now their eyes are tired and irritated, fantastic.

“You awake?” they ask the empty side of the bed.

“Papyrus, you up?” they ask louder.

“YES, I’M COOKING BREAKFAST!”

Aofil samples the air with their nose. To their surprise it smells like, they taste it again just to be sure. Yup, porridge, and not burnt either.

They join Papyrus in the kitchen. “Night went by better?”

“YES, I PROTECTED YOU FROM THE NIGHTMARES!”

His enthusiasm is there, but reserved. Aofil recognizes that feeling. Papyrus is troubled by the nightmare, by the memories. But what did he dream about? Frisk? What did the kid do? Did they kill? Aofil heart sinks. Did Chara kill?

Why though? They sigh, they don’t want to ask, but it seems like they must. Later though, they need to keep appearances up for Papyrus, he needs it.

Aofil smiles. “That you did, oh great Papyrus.” They take in the smell from his cooking. “And now you’re making me breakfast,” they gush. “Truly, you are the coolest of dudes.”

Porridge is flung across the kitchen as Papyrus turns around. Honor and glory is radiating off of him and he points his wooden spoon towards the horizon. “TO RECEIVE SUCH PRAISE FROM MY BESTEST OF FRIENDS IS WHY I TAKE ON THESE RESPONSIBILITIES!”

He poses heroically. “LIKE HOW I DID WITH FRISK!”

Aofil’s color drains as they see Papyrus’ question his own words with a conflicted expression.

“The porridge looks good,” Aofil quivkly points out. “Want to eat in the sun? We had dinner in the rain, so why not breakfast in the sun? I’ll prepare outside while you finish the porridge. Sounds good?”

Papyrus’ smile returns. “WILL DO!”

Aofil lets the patio door slam to mask their sigh of relief. The floor is still a bit wet from yesterday’s storm. Luckily the chest containing the pillows stayed intact. They open it and fill a pair of chairs.

Papyrus joins Aofil with two plates of steaming porridge.

Aofil takes the hot plate and puts it on their knee. “Thank you, Pap.”

Papyrus bounces down in his chair. “NO PROBLEM, AOFIL!”

Aofil takes a bite, it tastes like Papyrus’ spaghetti. Figures.

They don’t hear any clanking coming from Papyrus’ plate. “You not hungry?”

“I AM,” he pokes around a bit more with his spoon, “BUT I DON’T KNOW!”

Aofil takes another bite while they figure out what to say next. “Hey, remember yesterday?”

Papyrus nods weakly.

“How that one lightning crashed on Ebott?”

He nods again with a bit more enthusiasm.

“And the sound it made? It almost knocked us out of our chairs!”

Papyrus snickers. “I WASN’T AFRAID!”

Aofil looks at the very wet spaghetti strands on the floor next to Papyrus’ chair. “You? Afraid? Never,” they indulge him.

“Or when the sky looked like waves?”

“WHAT DID YOU CALL THEM?”

Aofil points to a white and fluffy one. “Clouds.”

“THE SURFACE HAS MUCH COOLER WEATHER THAN THE UNDERGROUND!”

“I know,” Aofil leans closer. “And you haven’t seen some of the coolest ones.”

Papyrus’ eyes opens wide. “COOLER THAN LIGHTNING?”

“Yeah! Although I don’t think that there are dances to summon them.”

Papyrus scratches his forehead through his mitten. “DANCES?”

Aofil halts another bite. “You know, the rain dance you did yesterday?”

“I DIDN’T! I WAS BUSY THE ENTIRE DAY!”

Aofil’s stifles a curse. Dammit, not again.

“With what?” they try to save.

He twirls his hand before raising a finger. “HELPING QUEEN TORIEL WITH THE INTERVIEWS! THERE WERE SO MANY APPLICATIONS THAT SHE NEEDED ALL OF OUR HELP SORTING THROUGH THEM ALL!”

“Application for what? Wait,” Aofil’s throat tightens up, “for the teacher job?”

“YES!”

And Aofil still hasn’t managed to get their credentials going. Shit.

“WAIT! TORIEL TOLD ME TO GET YOU THERE EARLY IN THE MORNING FOR YOUR INTERVIEW!” He grabs Aofil’s arm. “LET’S GO, HUMAN!”

Aofil resists Papyrus’ tug, but it’s to no avail. They’re dragged through the house and the front door.

Papyrus stops at the steps outside the front door and looks around perplexed. He scratches his head. “WHERE’S THE CAR?”

Aofil slips out of Papyrus’ hand. “Did you bring it? In the rain?”

“NO, I DROVE IT HERE THIS MORNING!”

“How? You slept here tonight.”

Papyrus’ smile fades and he turns around to Aofil. “I DID? YES, I DID! BUT-”

Aofil hates themselves for reminding Papyrus about the nightmare, but they have to, they don’t want him to get stuck in his memories. “It was probably from your nightmare. Let me get some better clothes and we’ll walk there." They pat Papyrus on the back. “Sounds good?”

Papyrus folds his arms. “I WANTED YOU TO SEE THE CAR!”

Aofil agrees wholeheartedly, it is a thing of beauty, but mental health comes before cool looking cars.

They change clothes and pull out a large hoodie their dad used to wear. Some sweatpants as well.

“Got some clothes for you as well, Pap,” Aofil informs as they walk down the stairs.

Papyrus accepts them. “THANK YOU! BUT WHY?”

“Um, you know, so that you and Sans have similar clothes.”

Not that Aofil doesn’t want to be seen walking with a monster at this time with all the newspaper stuff going on. No, never.

To both their surprises Papyrus fits rather comfortably into the clothes. He catches himself in the mirror. “LOOK, AOFIL! I’M JUST LIKE SANS!”

Aofil brushes off some dust from his orange sweater. “I hope not. One Sans is enough. Besides, if you’re also him we wouldn’t have a Papyrus.”

Papyrus takes lead outside the door. “WHAT IF WE SWITCHED?”

Aofil locks the door. “What do you mean?”

“WELL, WHAT IF I WAS LIKE SANS, AND SANS WAS LIKE ME?”

Aofil flips Papyrus’ hood up. “That would be,” they smirk, “very silly, I must say. You and Sans just,” they cross two fingers, “switching personalities?”

Aofil laughs. “With you just slumping back like he does?” They mimic Sans laid back posture. “You’d fall over in a second!”

Papyrus shoulders sink a bit.

“Don’t be sad, Papyrus. I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” Aofil snickers again, “but imagining you like this tall and lazy guy, when I’ve come to know you as you are, it makes me laugh. It's because I love you though.”

Aofil also imagines Sans with Papyrus personality, and it makes them laugh even more. They won’t say it to Papyrus. The temptation is overwhelming, though.

“Cheer up, Pap. You and your brother are perfect just the way you are.”

“YOU REALLY THINK SO?”

Aofil spots Papyrus’ cheeks blossom under his orange hoodie. “Sure I do, skelebro,” they reassure with a pat on his shoulder.

The parking lot outside the Town Hall is a lot more crowded than Aofil is used to. It’s full. Why?

“So many cars,” Aofil comments out loud. “Are they all here for the interview?”

Papyrus scratches his chin. “PERHAPS THEY ARE HERE FOR THE PRESS CONFERENCE?”

Aofil notices some photographers tapping their feet outside the door. One rattles the handle with no effect.

Aofil motions for a lonely tree so that they can talk to Papyrus in private. “Who’s holding it?”

“QUEEN TORIEL! SHE’S GONNA TALK ABOUT HER SCHOOL AND THE NEW TEACHER SHE’S HIRING!”

Why though? She didn’t do it before. Strange.

Aofil inspects the building. The front door is completely blocked by people at the moment. “You think we can get inside?”

Papyrus points to the backside of the building. “FOLLOW ME!”

They round the house and Papyrus climbs through an open window. It isn't really what Aofil expected, to be perfectly honest. Certainly not that, not again. They shake their head before following him inside.

Aofil shuts the window behind them. “OK, Papyrus let’s be-” They turn around. “Oh, hi Toriel.”

Toriel halts her fork in front of her half opened mouth. “Hello, Aofil. Papyrus. Why are you two here?”

Aofil points to the bowing skeleton. “Papyrus told me that you summoned me for an interview.”

She puts the fork down. “For another one? I thought I already hired you.”

“You did?”

Toriel eyes narrow in thought. She opens a notebook next to her and skims it through. “Oh, Papyrus?”

He stands up from his deep bow. “YES, MY QUEEN?”

Toriel smile lessens a bit at the word 'queen'. “Now that you are here, could you please help Alphys and the others with the preparations?”

He salutes and leaves for the lobby.

Toriel returns to her notebook. “It says right here,” she reads. “Hire the human.” She puts a hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Aofil. I forgot to tell you.”

“It’s fine, Toriel,” Aofil smiles. “I’m here now.”

Toriel shakes her head. “I’m sorry, it’s not you I’m planning on hiring. It’s the human I interviewed yesterday. The one that taught us human science.”

Wait, didn’t Aofil teach them? Why is she?

Oh no.

Her unfazed look confirms Aofil’s suspicions, her memories are jumbled. Their heart sinks, not her as well.

“Don’t be sad, Aofil,” Toriel comforts, “but this is for the future of our children. I need someone I can trust, and I trust my child.”

Her muzzle wrinkles and her eyes can’t seem to focus, like she’s struggling to find the right emotion. “My child, the one that got me these snails.”

She looks down at her plate, “What?” and with a confused hand she grabs her fork. “How can this be?” She picks up a potato. “Where are my snails?”

She throws the fork away from her like it suddenly stung her. “The flavored snails!” She clutches her head with shaking hands. “I can’t remember the flavor.”

The fork bounces on the table and falls down on Aofil’s leg. “Garlic,” they whisper.

Toriel looks up at Aofil and her breathing slows down. Her expression stabilizes and her warm smile returns. “Yes, garlic, that’s what they were. Oh, they were so tasty. Thank you, Aofil, for buying them.” She reaches for her fork, but grabs only air. “Oh my, where did I put my fork?”

Aofil picks it up from the floor. “Here it is,” they say while struggling to keep their voice stabilized. They hand it Toriel.

“Thank you, Aofil. You ready to teach the class soon? Oh, and did you bring the curriculum?”

“Yes,” Aofil lies.

“Oh, human,” Toriel smiles. “I’m so happy you stumbled into our lives.”

Aofil’s knees weaken and they’re forced to take a seat. At least she seems stable at the moment. How long will that moment last, though? Will she relapse every time she sees or thinks about Aofil?

Is she better off without them? Is everyone better off without them? They’ve already killed them all, and now they’re the source of this insanity.

How much do Aofil care for them? Enough to let them go?

Toriel halts her fork, “Human, what’s the matter?” and walks around the table. She puts her arms around the sulking human. She’s concerned and caring, like always. She wants to help, but Aofil will only hurt her. They will just plague her with the memories she haven’t experienced, and torment her with every look they give.

Aofil pushes her away. “I can’t teach for you, Toriel.”

“Why?” she says worryingly. “Are you unwell?”

Aofil can’t answer her, they don’t know how.

Toriel puts a worried hand on Aofil’s cheek. She tilts their head towards her. With motherly eyes she tries to comfort. She dries off their eyes. “Are you stressed out, my child?”

Aofil’s eyes fill up again and they take Toriel’s hand in theirs. They give it back to her, ”Goodbye, Toriel,” and walk away.

Her pleading words hits Aofil like spears. She wants to understand, but it would only hurt her more. Like Flowey’s attacks they pierce Aofil. Their heart and soul bleed with every question.

“Human!” shouts Undyne from the top of a ladder. “When’s your head injury done? I want to spar!”

“Forgive me again for breaking your phone, Aofil,” Asgore apologizes from behind a podium. “I’ll compensate you for it.”

The double door slam behind Aofil and they elbow their way through the sea of humans outside. The journalist from before tries to ask them a question, but Aofil swats the microphone right back at them.

They have to get away...

The sunset warms Aofil as they sit alone on their patio. They’re leaned back so that they can’t see their beautifully cut lawn.

They’ve switched shirts. The other one is hanging next to them with a collar soaked in tears.

The chair next to them is kicked over, and the pillows lie sprawled out on the grass.

The kettle inside their kitchen whistles and they enter to pour themselves a cup of Golden Flower tea.

They savor it. It tastes wonderfully, like always.

They pour it all out and rinse the kettle. They find a cheap human tea and brew that one instead before returning outside.

They pick up the newspaper and flip it open. It lands on page nine.

Aofil scours Mister Lister’s list on how to monster proof your house. Might actually come in handy right now.

The kettle whistles again.

It tastes like warm flavored water. No flavor in particular, just, flavor. Good.

They almost trip on the spot of ketchup left from a couple of hours ago, but they catch themselves on the sink.

They seat themselves again and open the contact section of the newspaper. They find the number for a local real estate agency and dial it.

“Mt. Ebott real estate, where the security is just as sturdy as the mountain,” informs a woman’s voice after a couple of tones. Aofil detects a bit of an uncertainty in her voice.

“Yes, I’d like to open up an ad for my house. Is there a way to do some sort of a trade for a place in another city?”

“Certainly, could I have your name and address please?”

“My name is Aofil-”

The phone is knocked out of their hand. It smashes against the hard patio floor.

Aofil’s sigh competes with the wind created by the shortcut. “Fuck off, Sans.”

“just wanted to high five you, didn’t see the phone,” Sans explains from inside the kitchen. The refrigerator door is closed and he steps out on the patio with a bottle of ketchup in his hand.

He lifts up the fallen chair and pillows and leans back in it. “so-”

“Don’t want to talk about it. You’re better off without me triggering the memories.” Aofil leaves the skeleton as they head inside. “Goodbye, Sans.”

They walk inside and head for the stationary phone. They dial the same number.

“Mt. Ebott real estate, where the security is just as sturdy-”

The call disconnects.

Aofil hangs up the receiver. “Sans.”

“you’ve no proof.”

“Cut the shit, Sans!” Aofil turns around. “What do you want?”

“oh, this and that, you know.” He leans against the kitchen table, “normal stuff,” and chugs some more ketchup, “like not running away from my friends and family that love me and that i love as well.”

“What if I can’t handle the weight?” Aofil lashes out. “Ever thought about that? Maybe you and Frisk are stalwarts of resets, capable of pushing aside all this. But I can’t! The people around me are having psychological breakdowns right in front of me, because of me. They look and talk to me like I’m there, but their words are from before the resets.”

Aofil slides down on the floor. “Toriel called me her child, because she was talking about me from before the reset.” They shake their head. “Like I was a different person, like I was someone else entirely. She was talking about me, but not the me that was sitting next to her. Another me, the one in her memories.”

Sans shrugs. “sucks, doesn’t it?”

Aofil leers at Sans. “Big help as usual.”

“and the nonsense about me and frisk being stalwarts? let me show you.”

Sans shortcuts away for a minute before returning with Frisk.

“see?”

Frisk waves, Aofil returns it.

Sans circles his hand over Frisk’s face. “you see this? this is the face of someone that didn’t get an ounce of sleep this night, and the face of someone afraid of saying a single word because that might cause their family to go insane.”

Aofil composes themselves. “So why haven’t you told me this before?”

“because,” Sans sighs deeply, ”we didn’t know how to solve this. so, frisk had to reset.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there,” Aofil reminds him, "It isn’t something one forgets."

Frisk leaves and puts their hands over their ears.

“What?” Aofil asks. “What did I say?”

“it wasn’t anything you said, aof,” Sans tries as well to compose himself, “you were only there for the last.”

Aofil’s head jerks towards Frisk, and then back at Sans. “They’ve reset more?”

They realize the volume of their voice as they hear Frisk’s sniffles.

“Frisk,” Aofil pleads. “Frisk, how many times?”

No answer.

Aofil scrambles on their feet. “Frisk! How many times?” they cry out.

Sans steps in between. “aof, i’ve already chastised them.”

Aofil feels lightheaded. “Then, how many times? Why can’t I remember anything from those?”

Sans motions for a chair. “sit down.”

“Why?”

“could you just believe me? sit down.”

Aofil nods and takes a seat.

“now, from what frisk has told me, and from what i’ve managed to figure out is that you weren’t a major part of the previous ones. they don’t want to say how many, and i don’t want to know. so don’t ask.”

Aofil would’ve fallen if they hadn’t been sitting down. “I wasn’t?”

“no, and from what i understand the one before was the first time they met you. they did things differently before.”

Aofil looks at the crying child in their living room pressing their hands against their ear as hard as they can. Aofil feels their strength surge out of them just looking at them. They’re so small, and this weight is so big. How do that child cope?

“also,” Sans continues, “because you were such a huge change in our lives it suppressed the memories since they weren’t applicable any longer. you gave peace to us all, and frisk.”

“Just by being something entirely new?”

“exactly.”

Sans take a big breath. “now, do you know why asgore is building the surface lab?”

“He wants to mix human science and monster magic?”

“that’s not the whole story. you see, he wants to get his son back. actually, it might be better if you knew the whole story.”

He walks over to Frisk and removes their hands. “hi, kiddo. listen, you have to tell aofil about everything,” he lifts their chin carefully, “and i mean everything. even the things about me.”

Aofil can tell that Frisk is avoiding Sans’ eyes.

“if we’re gonna do this, we need them to know what happened down in the underground. no need to tell us about the other resets, they don’t matter anymore.” Sans ruffles Frisk's hair, “i’ll let you have your human talk in private,” and nods towards the sofa. “i’m gonna take a nap. wake me up when you’re done.”

A second later Sans is fast asleep on the sofa. Frisk walks slowly back to Aofil and climbs up on the chair opposite of Aofil.

“Is it a long story?” Aofil asks.

Frisk nods.

“Tea?”

Frisk nods again without meeting Aofil’s eyes.

Aofil understands, and they enter the kitchen.

They pour out the cold tea and fill the kettle again. They pick up the human tea and bounce it in their hand before tossing it away.

They serve two cups of steaming Golden Flower tea to the table. Frisk drinks like they’ve been parched for months.

Eventually they put down a half empty cup.

Frisk takes a breath.


	41. Tapes in motion

The last of Frisk’s story hangs in the air.

Aofil walks around the table and kneels down next to the kid who’s story ended where theirs began. "Frisk?"

The child nods.

Aofil reaches out for them. "Come."

Frisk embraces Aofil and buries their face into Aofil's shirt.

Aofil lets Frisk stain their shirt as much as they want. "Get it all out, Frisk," they pat the poor kid’s head, "though I'm not sure you'll ever be able to."

Aofil can't imagine the amount of sorrow behind Frisk's wails. So much pain, so much fear. But behind the fear is relief, so much relief. They have finally told their tale to someone after keeping it locked up for, how long? Months, years of resets? Aofil won’t burden Frisk with the question, they’ve been through enough to last more than that by far.

Aofil strokes Frisk’s hair gently. "Feels good to finally have it out in the open?"

Despite all the strength escaping Frisk they still manage to muster the tiniest of nods. Aofil puts their chin on Frisk head, like how Toriel did with them.

There’s one question though that Aofil must ask. It pains them so hard to do it, they still don’t want to burden the kid.

"Frisk? At the start of your story."

Frisk hands tenses and their grip hardens on Aofil's wrinkled and soaked shirt.

"The first time you met them."

Frisk stumbles on their sobs. They can’t form an apology or plead, and tears flow like the mightiest of rivers.

“I know you were scared, Frisk. They did all attack you, and it’s gonna be hard for me to look past that despite everything I know about them. All alone in the Underground, and everyone wanting you dead. My heart bleeds for you, kid.”

Frisk curls up, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

“How you told it though. To me it sounded like you weren’t scared at all, not after,” Aofil breathes out, “not after you killed Toriel.”

A pained sulk is forced out of Frisk.

“And you say it was Chara’s fault? They egged you on?”

Another weak nod.

Aofil doesn’t want to believe it, that their twin is the source of the genocide. Maybe Chara couldn’t control it? Maybe they were just as afraid as Frisk? Maybe they didn’t know?

They look at their own hands, hands that have held dust, hands that have killed as well. They know the feeling as well, the surge of determination. But it’s because of their, and Chara’s, curse.

Aofil needs to learn how to control it, it has taken too many lives. If Chara couldn’t figure it out, then how can they?

Chara shared it with Frisk, their taste for dust. Did they do it willingly? And why would they tell Frisk to do it? Are they really evil, like Frisk said?

Is Aofil really evil? Is there just a question of time before it consumes them, and their friends?

Frisk looks up at Aofil, at them remembering the feeling of dust, of determination.

“It really is a curse,” Aofil finally says. “But Chara can control it, right?”

Frisk feels their chest and nod.

“Your fear triggered it? And you both lost control?”

Frisk nods again.

Aofil puts their hand over Frisk’s. “It must’ve been terrible for you feeling Frisk and you killing your family and friends, Chara. I’m sorry I didn’t realize when we spoke before.”

They know that Chara can’t say anything, but perhaps they can hear. And if there’s the slightest possibility of them knowing that Aofil still remembers them, then Aofil is willing to bet on perhaps.

“I’ll not be near them when I succumb to it. I promise you that.”

Frisk grabs Aofil’s hand and shakes their head.

“I need to move, Frisk. I can’t be near them anymore. I bring back their memories. I also don’t know if my curse is stable, if one day something will cause me to lose control permanently. I can’t imagine the horror you felt when you realized, but I don’t know if I would ever realize if I got to that point. I could just go on forever.” Aofil scoffs, causing a couple of tears to fall on Frisk’s hair. “I’ll be easy to stop though, with my weak and broken soul. I don’t want my last memory of them to be rage and hatred though, and I don’t want their last memory of me to be rage and hatred.”

Frisk hugs Aofil.

Aofil grabs their arms and tries to pull them away. “Frisk.”

But Frisk holds on tight. They refuse!

“Frisk, I can’t stay.”

Sans puts his hand around Frisk and shortcuts them to their own chair. “could you at least fix the memories before you go, aof?”

“Won’t they stop when I leave, right?”

“the worst ones, sure, but there are more things they can be reminded of.”

“Then how?”

Sans pauses for effect. “asriel.”

“What? Toriel and Asgore’s son?”

“and your twin’s brother,” Sans reminds. “also, frisk said that you made a promise that you would come back for him.”

“That was before I saw him melt away and scream at us to get out before he lost control and killed me and Frisk. He was pretty close,” Aofil also reminds.

Sans shrugs with his hands in his pockets. “so we make him whole again, no biggie.”

Aofil squints and waves their hand. “Yeah, sure.” Their face freeze. “Wait, you want to do like what I did? Startle them into sanity?”

“i can’t think of anyone else that could do it, can you? trust me when i say that i’d rather not try this with all of them being this unstable.”

Sans waits a second for Aofil’s face to thaw, but it stays rock solid.

“look, it’s either this, or trying again with my old friend.”

The memory shocks Aofil back. ”Alright, let’s say that it is somehow possible without erecting a new Barrier and killing seven new kids, how do we do it?”

“first, we need to get flowey.”

Aofil is drained of color. They grip the edge of the table. “No.”

“listen.”

Aofil’s eyes don’t blink. “No, I’m not going back to him. I thought you meant using a memory box or something to bring him back!” They feel their whole body ache as the fight comes rushing back. “I. Am. Not. Going. Back!”

Sans nods. “good, because you’re not going back.”

Aofil cocks their head. “But then why did you-”

“chara is going back to try and convince flowey to come with them up to the surface.”

Aofil’s eyes snap to Frisk. “What, we’re bringing them back first? Their soul is bound with Frisk’s, and getting those two untangled would probably be harder. Why would you even consider that?

Sans puts his hand to his chin. “hm, who do we know that share chara’s soul, their hair.”

Aofil sighs deeply. “Sans,” they try to interrupt.

Sans ignores it. “curse, cheeks,” he continues counting on his fingers. “age if they were alive, knowledge of what happened.”

Aofil raises their voice. “Sans!”

He finally stops.

“I get it, you want me to go down there and convince him that I am Chara.” Aofil laughs into their hands. “Ignoring the incredibly bad taste of me impersonating my dead twin,” Aofil takes an unsteady breath, “I’m also gonna face the monster that tried to kill me, and who would’ve succeeded if Asgore hadn’t interrupted in the absolute last second.”

Sans smacks his lips. “yup.”

Aofil shakes their head in their hands. “This plan is getting better and better by the minute,” they snark.

“i’ll be there just in case,” Sans tries to relieve.

Aofil keeps their head lowered. “Sure, Sans. Well, if I die it at least it solves the problem of my determination permanently. Don’t worry about Flowey absorbing my soul,” they let their hands fall heavily on the table, “I’m pretty sure it’s useless to anyone but me.”

Aofil sighs. “Let’s say that I convince him that I am Chara.”

“good, the plan hinges on that.”

“What’s the next step?”

“did you ever hear alphys say something about a machine of some sort?”

“Yeah, I think so. She sounded quite distraught that it was left behind in her house when it burned down.”

“if we’re lucky it’s still there since she wouldn’t have time to move it. i’ll relocate it to your basement and tell alphys that asgore moved it. and vice versa.”

“You seem very comfortable lying about it,” Aofil notices.

Now it’s Sans’ turn to scoff. “i’m one of those silly monsters that don’t want my friends and family to suffer mental trauma,” and shrug, “but hey, that’s just me.”

Aofil nods. “Sorry.”

“now, once you get flowey here.”

“How?” Aofil intercepts.

“use a pot or something. anyway, once he’s here we can extract what’s left of asriel from flowey and discard the rest.”

Aofil isn’t convinced. “And that will bring him back, how?”

Sans lifts up a small box from his pocket. “your guess weren’t that off, to be honest. we’ll let his soul grow from his own memories. frisk’s idea, from an earlier reset.”

Aofil meets Frisk’s eyes. “And this will work?”

“not a clue.” Sans puts the cube back into his pocket. “never tried it before.”

“So we’re doing this on nothing but our hopes and dreams?”

Sans nods to Frisk. “worked for them.”

Aofil sits in silence. Sans pours himself a cup of tea as he waits.

After a long while Aofil opens one hand towards Sans. “But what about the Surface Lab, can’t we wait for it?”

“i don’t think asgore will be stable enough to build it.”

Aofil shakes their head. “That’s not true, Toriel and Asgore’s meeting with the Mayor went really well, and really fast.”

Frisk shakes their head.

“yeah, you only heard what asgore and toriel thought happened. in reality things went a bit,” Sans breathes through his teeth, “worse. they brought up some things that they couldn’t know. they had to make a much bigger offer than last time to get the houses. right, frisk?”

Frisk nods.

Aofil turns to Frisk with a tired expression. “Still not talking to me, Frisk? Even after all this? Your story I can understand you not wanting to say out loud, but isn't this your plan?”

Frisk rolls their thumbs with their head hanging low.

“If we get him back and this all sorts out, will you at least say goodbye to me?”

They shake their head and jump into Aofil’s arms.

Sans lifts them off. “first things first, kiddo. we’ll convince aof to stay once we’ve gotten all heads straight again.”

Aofil runs their hands over their face. “I guess if we're doing it. Step one, Sans?”

Sans puts a hand inside his jacket and pulls out something Aofil hasn’t seen for a very long time. A video tape.

“step one is homework. you have anything that can play this?” Sans asks while waving the tape in his hand. Tiny drops of gooey liquid fly off it and lands on his shirt.

Aofil motions for Sans to hand it over. They inspect it for a while before remembering. “I think I have something like this in the attic.”

Aofil leads the way upstairs with Sans and Frisk behind them. They bring out the chair Papyrus slept on and with it as help they pull down the hatch for the attic.

Dust rains around them and Aofil pulls up their shirt over their mouth.

“Should be a flashlight in one of those drawers, Sans,” they instruct through their shirt. Sans digs around for a while before finding one.

“Does it have batteries?”

Sans flicks it on under his chin. ”yes.” Seeing the light illuminate the inside of his skull makes Aofil a bit uneasy. Sans shuts the flashlight off and hands it to Aofil who climbs up the ladder.

The attic is very dusty, but Aofil’s already covered in it so it’s not a surprise. They do keep their chin down though to prevent them from coughing and making everything worse. Having a flashlight proved to be a bit useless since the afternoon sun casts thick rays of light through a round window at the end of the attic.

Aofil shoves a box labeled ‘toys’ aside and crawl ever deeper. They note to themselves that none of the boxes are labeled ‘Chara’. Must have been hard for their parents to know that they couldn’t leave any clues behind.

A wooden container catches their eye though. It is heavy, and the floorboards under it squeak as they drag it closer to them. As they swipe the dust off the lid they feel that there’s an area where the texture is rougher than the rest. It’s like someone has scrapped something off it. There’s a name written on the rough texture with a felt pen. It’s Aofil’s.

Two loud clacks shakes the chest as Aofil unlocks it. Inside are things that Aofil remembers as theirs, because their parents told them it was theirs. Aofil recognizes none of them though.

A tear rolls down their cheek, leaving a clean streak among dust. This isn’t Aofil’s stuff, it’s Chara’s.

There’s a couple of old dolls, some striped shirts, and a jeweled case. Plastic jewels, but jewels nonetheless. Aofil opens it carefully.

Inside is a hand mirror with its backside facing up. It’s plastic as well, but not jeweled. It’s small, and very light.

Aofil flips it over and sees that their pink cheeks are missing in the reflection. Two spots of lightly colored makeup, like their skin, like Chara’s skin, is smeared on the plastic mirror. Holding it just right, the spots cover Aofil’s cheeks.

Their curse is not in their reflection. Aofil smiles at themselves being normal. The reflection could let Toriel heal it if it got hurt, without worrying that it would attack her. It could be around its friends without making them question reality, and descend into madness.

The reflection would also have a twin sibling next to it, and the sibling would also be normal. They would be together, with their parents, and with the monsters as well.

A tear lands on the mirror and dissolves one of the spots on the mirror revealing their curse.

“No!” Aofil screams out. They try to pat it back, but it’s too thin to stick. Their cheek is visible again, and their curse is back.

They beg the reflection to come back, to show them how things could’ve been. But the mirror has been stained by their curse, just like everything else.

If only the reflection was real. Everything would’ve been right, everything would’ve been good. Aofil’s family and friends would’ve been there, happy, and alive.

They look themselves again in the mirror. Did Chara think so as well? Is that why they put the makeup on? Did they also dream of being normal? Having a real family?

In a sense though, Aofil looks at the mirror again, didn’t they both get one? Chara fell and met the Dreemurrs, and Aofil had their own parents. They both had a family to call their own. A family that loved them.

But Chara is dead, and their human parents as well. Left is Aofil, and the monsters, who are hurting because of their curse.

Aofil dries the other spot off. They can’t live in ‘what ifs’. They need to face it, so that no one else has to die. They owe that to their family, and their twin.

And it starts by disguising themselves as their dead sibling to try and bring back their dead brother.

Aofil stares into the words they just thought. They look weird and out of place, but they have to do it. They have to save Chara’s family by impersonating them, like any respectful twin would do. Aofil sighs.

A cloud of dust swirls up in the air. Aofil tries to fan it away as they close the chest, causing more dust to cloud around them. With one hand over their mouth they crawl over to a corner and accidentally topple a stack of boxes.

More dust.

They fumble their hand around in on and find an old VCR and quickly crawl back to the floor below. They close the hatch quickly so that the dust cloud stays in the attic and hand the VCR to a confused Sans.

Still coughing, they enter the bathroom. Their hairdryer jumps with joy as it sees Aofil.

“Clean me,” Aofil commands in between coughs.

With a whir of its motor the hairdryer dances around them, blowing the dust away into a neat pile in the corner. It ends by blowing the dandruff out of Aofil’s hair. Aofil points to the trash can and the hairdryer sweeps the pile into it with pinpoint accuracy using small puffs of air. Even though Aofil leaves it while shaking their disbelieving they’re still mighty impressed over what it can do.

Sans hands the VCR back to Aofil as they exit the bathroom. “took you a while. heard you yell as well up there. were you atticked by anything?”

“Never a wasted opportunity, Sans.”

He nods. “i have some in storage.”

Aofil motions for a nearby room. “So I’ve noticed.”

An old and small TV stands on top of a drawer. Aofil moves some figurines aside while trying to look at them as little as possible. They put the VCR next to the TV and start tinkering with the cables. After some swears they finally get it set up. As they turn around to ask for the tape they stop.

“You know? This was my little sisters old room. Mine was the one adjacent to this one.”

Aofil points to the wall on the other side. “Knock on it, Sans.”

Sans gives it a couple of taps with his knuckles. “hollow.”

“Yup, she used to knock on it when she was scared at night, and I would knock back to let her know that I was there. Thing is though, the wall serves no other purpose. Since it’s hollow it didn’t work as soundproofing. It was a bit annoying when she would watch her cartoons on repeat.”

Aofil lets the memory sink in a bit before continuing. “Doesn’t carry the house either. It’s just there to split the rooms. My parents never confirmed it, but I think I know why now.”

Aofil moves to the door. “This wall is structural. Yet, there’s a door there.” They bang on the wall above the door. “Hear that? There’s a balk here. It’s been cut off which means that the door wasn’t here when the house was built. It was added later. My door was here when the house was built, the style fits all the others. This one was added later, like the wall separating the room.”

Sans and Frisk share a look. “cool, i think.”

Aofil sighs. “I checked the model of this door as well,” they grab the handle and swing the door back and forth, “it was only available a month after Chara and Asriel attacked.”

“oh.”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, my parents put up that wall and made this door so that I wouldn’t remember me and Chara sharing a room together. I guess they also did it to ease in my sister’s adoption. For both her sake,“ Aofil closes the door gently, “and mine.”

“do you feel like they wanted to replace chara?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, since I didn't remember Chara being my sibling. My sister was my sibling, I loved her above all else. It’s just that...I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. They’re both mine, except not, and for different reasons.”

Aofil sigh is very unsteady and they rub their forehead as they hear it. “Dammit, I need to stop thinking about it. At least for now. We got homework to do.”

Sans hands Aofil the video tape. “that we do.”

The old VCR complains for a while before it rewinds the tape. Aofil takes a seat next to Frisk and Sans on their sisters’ bed. After a minute or so of spooling the VCR switches mode with a mechanical clack.

The TV is black, there’s no picture. Aofil could’ve sworn that they inserted the cables in the right holes. Yeah, they’re correct. Aofil scratches their head. “Why isn’t it?”

They give it a hard pat and the speaker wakes up. There’s some commotion coming out of it, like someone’s fumbling with the camera.

“Okay, Chara, are you ready? Do your creepy face!”


	42. Window to the past

"We just have to get six. And we'll do it together, right?"

The VCR stops and automatically rewinds. It ejects the tape as it did the four before it and Sans switches it out again.

The tired machine coughs and whirs in pain as it prepares for another one. There’s a bit of gooey liquid seeping out of the flap.

This time the tape starts off with a very blurred picture as the wielder runs with it. Panting can be heard with fluctuating volume.

“Chara, wait!” Asriel shouts as he rounds a corner. His voice echoes through the room he’s running through. “Chara?”

Asriel stops and the camera manages to focus. The room he’s in is large with white pillars holding up the roof. Aofil recognizes the room as one from the Ruins. The pillars are less weathered though, and there are no piles of leafs on the floor like there was when they ran through it.

The camera looks around. When it stops a white ear flops briefly into frame. “Chara, where are you?”

Asriel sneaks up to a pillar and thrusts himself around. “Got you!”

But no one was there.

He sneaks up to another one. “Aha!”

But no one was there.

Not behind the third one, nor the fourth one.

A quiet snivel escapes the TV. “C-Chara? Where are you, Chara?”

But no one came.

The camera spins towards an exit leading to a ledge overlooking a river. Judging by the faint yet still roaring sound the river must be very far below the ledge.

Asriel runs through the exit. “Chara!” he shouts with panic in his voice. His quick breathing is interrupted by his sobs.

He stops at the ledge and the camera sways around as he searches for his sibling. “Please, Chara, where are you?”

Some pebbles are disturbed behind him and as he turns around the camera locks in on his sibling’s face.

Their crooked smile wrinkles their pink cheeks and exposes two rows of white and hungry teeth. Dark shadows hang over their eyes, almost as if Chara’s eyes are hollow. Their fringe covers their face like an intimidating veil, obscuring it, and further darkening Chara’s face.

The camera is tossed in the air and a high-pitched bleat can be heard through the rushing wind as the camera spins around.

After a few seconds in the air the camera lands in a pair of hands.

“Is it still working?”

The camera is flipped around and Chara’s face comes into view again. Every ounce of scary is gone from it as they check the camera. Aofil can’t help but see themselves. If it wasn’t for the purple archway behind Chara they could’ve sworn that it was them looking into the camera.

Chara examines the camera with their eyes. “Yes, it’s still recording.” They turn it around and frame Asriel who fell over as Chara scared him.

“D-did it film your creepy face?” Asriel puts out hand a towards Chara. “Wait! Don’t stop the camera!”

The tape ends and the VCR starts rewinding it.

“First time we hear them speak,” Aofil remarks as Sans stands up to switch the tapes.

“could be the point where they became comfortable with their new family.”

Aofil glances at Frisk for a second and returns their head forward before the child notices.

“Seems like Chara was still ashamed of our curse though.”

Sans inserts a new tape into the exhausted player. “you should keep that in mind, could be useful.”

The machine whirs again as it settles the new tape, and after some more worrying goo, the TV flashes to life again.

“You sure?” Asriel asks as he sets down the camera on a night table. He turns it towards a bed where Chara is sitting and swinging their legs. “What if mom and dad find out?”

Aofil furrows their brow. Where is this going? They turn to Sans. “Have you watched these before?”

Sans shakes his head, also with a furrowed brow. “not really. i just cleaned them so that they could be played.”

“Asriel, I want to show you something,” Chara says carefully as they remove their sweater.

“Yeah, no!” Aofil lunges up on their feet. “I’m turning this off. Sans, give me another tape.”

A red glow fills the room as it completely takes over the picture on the TV. The camera struggles to readjust itself, but when it does Aofil recognizes the source. They put a hand on their chest. “Chara,” they whisper.

In Chara’s hands hovers the same soul that they have. Chara's is whole though, and it shines even redder than Aofil’s.

Asriel looks around nervously. “C-Chara, put it back. Mom and dad might come in and think that we’re battling. They’ll be really mad with us.”

Chara pushes their soul towards Asriel. “Do you think it’s nice?”

Asriel backs up. “What do you mean?”

“My soul!” Chara raises their voice. “Do you hate it? Is it ugly? Does it look cursed to you?”

They hold it up to Asriel’s face and he squints. “Chara, mom will be angry.”

He pushes Chara away and they fall over with a pained grunt and the red glow disappears as they land. Asriel looks at his hand, horrified. “I touched it. Oh no, I touched it!” He dives towards their sibling. “Chara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

His muzzle wrinkles and he burst out of view of the camera with tears rolling off his face. “Mom! Chara is hurt!”

His footsteps fades as he leaves Chara sobbing and huddled up in pain. There’s some silent commotion before he returns with Toriel.

She kneels in front of Chara. “My child, what happened?”

Asriel struggles to talk as his sniffles interrupt him. “We were playing, and Chara, they tripped, and...”

Toriel puts Chara’s sweater back on them and picks them up with the utmost care and love. “Let’s get you both some pie.” She removes Chara’s fringe from their eyes with a careful stroke of her claw. “Will that cheer you up?”

Chara nods in Toriel’s robe. Aofil wonders if their nod felt the same to Toriel as Chara’s did.

Toriel smiles to her son as she passes him. “You too, Asriel?”

He nods as well and follows her out of the camera’s view.

But the tape doesn’t stop, it keeps going. There’s clanking of silverware for a while before someone nears the camera again.

Chara peeks their head into frame. Their eyes are red and a bit puffy. They clean their nose with their green sweater arm and reaches a finger behind the lens.

The tape stops.

“You have any dates on these tapes?” Aofil asks.

Sans pushes the eject button. “nope, just the numbers on some of them. most are unlabeled.”

“Anything in them that can clue us in? Maybe we can create some sort of timeline?”

Sans pockets the tape and brings out another. “apart from the obvious, and that it took place before chara and asriel attacked the village, no.”

Aofil turns to Frisk. “You got anything?”

Frisk shakes their head.

The next one starts of with Chara telling Asriel not to record again. Then it stops.

Sans halts midway to the bed as he hears the VCR rewind. “hm. weird.”

He ejects the tape and spins it around in his hand. “huh, guess it was just that. oh well.”

“How many do you have in there?” Aofil comments as Sans brings out another tape.

Sans lets the VCR do its thing while he slumps back on the bed. “a couple.”

Aofil throws up a hand. “Yeah, I noticed as much. Any exact number?”

Sans hushes Aofil and points to the TV.

In frame is a metal rod with a handle at the end. Holding it is a big and white hand. Dark and thick armor covers the torso of the figure and strands of golden hair can be seen flowing just out of frame. The area around them is whizzing past very quickly.

“Faster, dad!” yells two child voices.

Asgore turns his head towards his children. “Golly, you sure you can handle it?” he teases lovingly. Aofil has only seen Asgore smile that wide once before, and that was at the Above Lab when Toriel kissed him.

“Go dad, go!” Chara yells again.

Asgore nods and the camera almost falls over as he increases his speed. The wagon rumbles worryingly, and suddenly it flips. The TV shows Asriel’s sweater and the ground roll around before it’s dropped. It glides a bit before stopping. The picture shakes as heavy footsteps closes in.

Asgore’s mantle covers the lens for a second as he runs over the camera. ”Golly! My children, are you hurt?”

Asriel and Chara sit up while clutching their arms. Asriel’s head sinks down and tears start rolling down his cheeks.

Asgore hovers his hand over Asriel’s arm. “Now now, Asriel,” a green glow starts emanating from his large hand, “it’s just a small scrape. No need to tell Tori about this.”

He pats Asriel’s arm and moves over to Chara. “Same to you, Chara. Mom doesn’t need to know, so let’s keep this between us. I’ll get you both some nice cream on the way home.”

Aofil hits pause on the remote. ”Look! Chara tensed up their body as Asgore healed their arm. They’re also hiding their eyes from Asgore.”

Sans leans forward with his hand rubbing his chin. “you’re saying that chara’s hiding their curse?”

Aofil nods. “That’s what I was thinking.”

Sans leans back again. “could also be that they didn’t want to be seen crying. what with the whole big kids don’t cry and stuff?”

Aofil bounces the remote in their hand, “That too, I suppose,” before resuming the video.

Asgore seats his kids into the wagon again. “Now let’s continue. We need to get to Waterfall and pick up Tori’s present before she gets home.”

Asriel scoops up the camera as the wagon passes it.

The VCR coughs loudly. Its servos strains, like something is stopping them from spinning. Sans struggles a bit to get the tape out. He peeks into the flap.

“You think it will hold? Can we ask Alphys to fix it?”

Sans shakes his head. “she doesn’t do goo, not anymore.”

Aofil smiles. “Not good enough anymore?”

Sans clears his non-existent throat. “yeah, let’s go with that.”

He needs to give the next tape a push before it slots into place.

Aofil follows him with their eyes back to the bed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“not to me.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

Sans snaps his finger towards the TV.

The camera is filming through an ajar door into a kid’s room. Asriel taps Chara on their shoulder. He is holding something behind him that’s makes the wielder of the camera giggle. Sounds like it’s Toriel that’s filming.

Asriel hands Chara a halo made of flowers. “Tada! Look, Chara, I made it for you.”

Chara takes it and spins it around in their hands nervously.

Asriel smiles. “Are you still scared of the big party?”

Chara nods. “Yeah.”

Asriel takes the flower from Chara’s hands and places it on their head.

The back of Asgore’s head peeks in front of the lens. “What are you looking at, Tori?”

Toriel hushes Asgore quietly from behind the camera and pushes his head away from the frame with her hand.

“Oh, sorry dear.”

Judging by his hand Aofil guesses that he angles the small screen on the side of the camera to see as well.

Asriel adjusts the crown on their sibling’s head. “See, now you’re already a royal heir! No need to worry about putting on the real one.”

Chara hugs Asriel. “What if they don’t want me? I’m a human, not a monster.”

Asriel hugs Chara back. “I don’t care what you are. You are the best human a brother could ever have.”

“You’ll be there, right? Next to me?”

Asriel nuzzles his cheek around Chara’s neck. “We’ll always be together, Chara.”

Asgore and Toriel both let out a very pleased and proud sigh.

Chara and Asriel drop each other and snap towards the door. “Mom! Dad!”

Toriel fumbles with the camera while her children run towards her screaming about how embarrassing she and Asgore are.

The tape stops.

The bed shakes as Aofil lays down on it. “Chara was an heir to the royal throne?”

“you didn’t know?”

“No, Sans,” Aofil tilts their chin down on their chest, “I didn’t. They were not in my life.”

Sans switches the tape for a new one. “i was just teasing with you.”

“So this is what Frisk meant with Chara being the hope of the Underground,” Aofil turns to Frisk, “right?”

Frisk nods.

“So yeah, I guess I’m royal through family.” Aofil sits up again. “Or how does it work?”

Sans turns to Aofil with a sarcastic smile. He puts his fingers on his chest and bows deeply. “being the aristocrat that i am i’d love to tell you all about the traditions of our monarchs that i definitely know all about.”

Aofil rolls their eyes. “I get it, I get it.”

The next tape starts off black and without sound. Then there’s some ruffling of cloth, but then nothing. Just silence and darkness.

After a couple of minutes Aofil hits fast forward on the remote. Nothing still happens so they increase the speed.

Some quick gibberish escapes the speakers and they rewind a bit.

There’s muffled sobbing. Very muffled. Aofil increases the volume.

“A-are you still hurt?”

It’s Asriel’s voice.

“D-did mom and dad not heal you enough? They’re not mad that you jumped on them, I promise.”

The sobs become sharper, but they’re not Asriel’s.

“M-must have been scary falling down? Good thing I found you, right? You hit your head pretty bad. Is that why you thought they would attack you? That’s why you jumped on them?”

No answer.

“I’m not mad at you either, I know you’re scared.”

There’s a pause.

“Mom and dad were pretty worried that you couldn’t go back. That you can’t go back to your family. Will you miss them?”

Still no answer.

“But hey, maybe we can be just as good? I promise you I’ll try my best to be the bestest friend a human can have. We’ll do everything together! I’ve always wanted a sibling to play with.”

More ruffling of cloth.

“And now I have one! We’re gonna be best friends! I-if you want to, of course. You and me, um, what’s your name? You didn’t tell us.”

There’s a long pause. “Chara.”

“Wow, what a cool name! You and me, Chara! We are gonna be the best siblings in the entire Underground!”

Chara giggles.

Asriel huffs. “Aw, now I can’t sleep. I just want to play instead. I know, maybe tomorrow we can film it on my, oh.”

He gets up from his bed and walks towards the camera. His white fur forces the camera to readjust itself, but he shuts it off before it can finish.

The tape stops.

Aofil sighs. “Asgore and Toriel’s healing triggered Chara’s curse, poor kid. Must have been horrible for Toriel and Asgore as well, having the first fallen human attack them.”

They rub their lobes. “And apparently being quick to trust monsters that attacked you also runs in the family.”

Sans stops. “what?”

“Yeah, remember? I just welcomed you into my house without question.”

Sans thinks for a bit. “this time or the one before the reset?”

“The one before. Undyne chased me down Mt. Ebott.”

Sans fails to hold in a laugh.

“And then she broke into my home. I woke up the next day with you all making breakfast in my kitchen.” Aofil taps their skull. “I did have a concussion though. Could be why.”

“you sure that you didn’t have a memory from even earlier?”

“I, I don’t know. Maybe? I remember thinking that you all looked friendly enough, that I wasn’t afraid of you. Or at least,” Aofil sinks their chin on their hand, “that’s what Chara told me.”

Sans seats himself again on the bed next to Frisk. “for being dead they sure are talkative.”

Aofil cocks their head to Sans with a disgusted look. “Could you not?”

“tv.”

It shows Asgore and Toriel standing in a hallway. In Asgore’s hands there’s a large cake with a candle lit on top. Toriel is holding a very well wrapped present in her hands.

“You two ready?” asks Toriel.

Asgore nods and so does the camera.

“On three then. One, two, three.”

She swings the door open. “Happy birthday!” they all exclaim in unison.

Chara shoots up from their bed and the monsters start singing.

Asriel runs up and hugs their sibling. “Happy birthday, Chara! Did we surprise you?”

“It’s been a year since you fell into our lives,” Asgore explains. He receives an elbow in his side from Toriel. “Um, I mean, it’s been a year since you joined us, and made this family even more wonderful than it already was.”

Toriel shoots him an impressed looked. “Nice save, my king.”

He smiles and bows his head.

The camera turns back towards Chara. They’re crying. Asriel puts the camera on the nightstand. “C-Chara?”

He approaches them with a hand on their shoulder. “Did we scare you?”

Chara grabs Asriel and pull him in towards them. They lean their chin on his shoulder and thick tears drip onto his sweater.

“I’ve never had a real birthday like this,” they cry out. Aofil needs to steady their breath, they didn’t have one either before Chara fell. They bite down on their knuckles to try and hold the tears in themselves.

“Chara?” Asriel asks, “Big kids don’t cry,” before also slumping over their sibling with tears streaking down his own cheeks.

Toriel and Asgore walk into frame and sit down next to them. They lean in for a hug as well. They spare no love and no praise. Just two parents, with their two kids. A real family.

Aofil hears some snivels from Frisk and they invite them to their knee. Frisk leans onto Aofil and can only muster enough courage to only glance at the TV.

The Dreemurrs stay embraced for a long while before Asgore’s face wrinkles. He looks up and his eyes widen. “Golly, the cake!”

He manages to remove the candle just before it touches the cake. He breathes out in relief. The top layer slumps over from the force of his breath.

There’s a long pause. Then Chara starts giggling, then Asriel, then Toriel. Asgore joins as well and he picks up piece from the floor. “I guess this is mine then.”

“Yeah, you blew it off!” Asriel laughs out.

Toriel strokes the hair of her children. “Now, how about we open some presents?”

Asriel nods ecstatically and runs to Toriel’s present and hands it to Chara. “This one first!”

Chara smiles and opens it. They pull out a purple sweater with the delta rune on it. Aofil is reminded that theirs no longer exist, and their entire being sinks. It fits just as good on Chara as Aofil’s did.

Toriel gives Chara a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I made it just for you, my child. It’s a bit thicker than the other ones so that you can travel to Snowdin without freezing.”

She raises an eyebrow towards Asgore. He looks back at her. “What?”

Toriel shakes her head and gives Chara another hug. “I hope you like it.”

Chara nods. “Thank you, mom. You’re the best.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say so myself,” boasts Asgore as he hands Chara another present.

Toriel stands up with her arms crossed and eyes firmly locked. “And this talk about marrying the best woman in your life, Gorey?”

He puts his arm around her, “I married the best woman in my life. But she is not the best,” and gives her a kiss on her mouth. Their kids hulk as they witness it.

Asgore tilts Toriel's head up with his claw. “Because only the best is good enough for my Tori.”

“And that would be you?” she teases as she twirls Asgore’s beard.

“The perfect king for a perfect queen, or are you implying that I made a mistake?”

"Implying is too weak of a word."

“Mom, dad!” Asriel interrupts. “This is supposed to be Chara’s day.”

“Oh, golly, sorry,” they apologize together sheepishly while trying to return their limbs.

Chara laughs at their clumsy parents before returning to their present. They tear the present open. Inside is a gorgeous looking sword.

Asriel and Chara gasp in disbelief. “Wow!”

“Asgore!”

“Don’t worry, Tori. I got one for Asriel as well,” he interrupts Toriel with a claw on her lips. “And they’re not sharpened, and they will be left behind with Gerson as he trains them.”

“What?” the kids yell.

“He’ll take good care of them both, I promise.” Asgore reaches behind his back, “But for now,” and pulls out another sword, “I’ll show you how to use them so that he doesn’t scold me later.”

Asriel grabs it and holds it high in triumph. Chara joins him with theirs.

“I have the best present though!” Asriel stick his tongue out to Asgore. He fakes a shocked gasp. Asriel crawls under his bed, and pulls out a present that he gives to Chara.

They pull out a locket and Frisk grabs their chest with a gasp. Aofil hits pause. “What happened?”

Frisk puts a hand under their blue sweater. They pull out the same locket that's visible on the screen. Aofil blinks. “Is it?”

Frisk nods and puts it back.

Aofil looks Frisk in the eyes for a while before resuming the video.

“And look!” Asriel reaches his hand under his green sweater. “I have one as well.”

Chara puts down their sword and fastens the locket around their neck. They open it up.

Asriel rocks back and forth on his feet with his head lowered. “I couldn’t find any that said ‘Best Siblings Forever’, so I bought a pair saying ‘Best Friends Forever’. Are you mad at me?”

Chara hugs Asriel. “No, never. I’d never be mad at you.”

Frisk tightens their grip on Aofil’s shirt.

Chara picks up their sword and pokes Asriel in the leg. He bleats and Chara runs out the room. ”I challenge you to a duel, Asriel!”

Asriel lips quivers, but he picks up his own sword. “I-I accept your challenge.”

“Outside,” Toriel demands, “and only with either Asgore or Gerson surveying.”

Asgore gives Toriel a peck on her cheek. “Thank you, Tori.”

“Dear.”

Asgore turns around in the doorway. “Dear you, Tori.” He laughs as he leaves.

Toriel rolls her eyes and walks towards the camera. She picks it up. “My child, my most beloved human child, I’m so proud of you. When you watch this back years from now, please always smile at these memories.” She winks with one eye. “That’s an order from mom, so you better obey it.”

The tape stops.

“homework’s done!” Sans gleefully informs and moves to retrieve the last tape. He struggles to get it loose and it finally comes off with a pop.

Aofil sighs deeply. “Tragic.”

Sans pockets the tape. “yup.”

“Frisk?”

They look up.

“If things go south and you have to reset, please don’t show me this again.”

Sans crosses his arms. “you upset that Chara had a family outside yours?”

“No,” Aofil looks at the picture-less TV, “I’m sad that they were happy with it. Toriel, Asgore, and Asriel. Then it just, crumbled.”

Aofil caresses their face with their hands. “All this death, just because they were kids being stupid.” They moan in frustration and it scares Frisk. “They’re just supposed to get a time out or a very stern talking to when they do something kid stupid. Not kill themselves!”

Sans gives Aofil a minute to collect themselves. “you done?”

Aofil nods. “Maybe? Yeah, perhaps. As much as I can be.”

“good, because we gotta hurry up with step two. i’d rather not risk anyone else having another nightmare if i could. it is gonna increase in potency,” he sighs. “trust me, i know.”

“So what is step two?”

Sans grabs Aofil’s arm and flips up his hoodie. “we’re going shopping.”


	43. Make a Chara out of you

"Excuse me? Do you have this one in a larger size?"

The clerk takes the sweater. "Can’t say that I’m sure about that, but I'll check in our inventory."

Aofil smiles. "Thank you."

"Anything you want me to check for your kid?" the clerk nods towards Frisk.

"Nope, just that one."

"I'll be back in a bit then."

Aofil nods in thanks and seat themselves next to Frisk. “If you want something I can get it for you. I’m sure I can give Toriel the receipt later when we, um, say goodbye.”

Frisk looks away. Aofil sighs. ”Frisk.”

They shake their head.

Before Aofil can continue, the clerk returns with the green and yellow striped sweater. “I’m sorry, we don’t stock these in adult sizes. Do you still want it for the kid?”

Aofil offers Frisk their hand, but they don’t take it. They stand up alone and walk out of the store.

“They’re hungry," Aofil excuses. "You know how kids are?”

The clerk nods.

“And I think that them storming out counts as a no.”

The clerks scoffs. “Yeah, I’ve seen that before."

Aofil smiles back at him. “Thanks for your help regardless.”

With a tired frown Aofil exits the store and walks to the nearby bench where Sans and Frisk are sitting. “No luck here either. I think we’ve exhausted every clothing store in this mall at this point.” Aofil scratches their head. “How can it be this difficult to get a striped sweater in adult size?”

Sans shrugs. “you tell me, it’s human stores. so humany do you need to look in?”

Aofil sighs through their lips. “No idea.”

“and just buying kids sized is out of the picture?”

“I’m not walking through the Underground with my midriff exposed, not again. Sweating through Hotland and then freezing in Snowdin. Horrible.”

Sans laughs. “now that’s a memory i wouldn’t mind having.”

“Is your monster clothes magical or something? Can they like, magically fit the one wearing it?”

Sans peeks his eye out from under his hoodie. “wouldn’t that pop your curse into overdrive?”

“Things is,” Aofil leans back, “the clothes I wore before were made by Alphys. They had like, magical spikes, or something. Besides, Chara looked fine wearing the clothes Toriel made for them.”

“hm, then we just need someone that could help us resize them. asking toriel to sew a new one is out of the picture, even if she had her mind in her head.”

“Radentim?” Aofil proposes with a shrug.

Sans’ eyes widen. “i’ve heard that name before. the mtt show?”

“Yeah, I met, him, um, her, whatever, the last time I went to the Underground. They,” Aofil waves their hand over their face, “did some things.”

“could be worth a shot.”

“They said their magic was about reshaping. You think it expands to expanding clothes as well?”

Aofil blinks.

“asking a monster about their magic is a bit of a personal thing. besides, i wouldn’t know.”

Aofil nods, “OK, seems like we’ve solved that problem,” and bounces up on their feet. “I’m gonna go buy that sweater.”

The clerk was just about to hang up the sweater back where it was displayed. “Excuse me, turns out the kid do want the sweater,” Aofil interrupts.

The clerk motions for the register. “What made them change their mind?”

Aofil glances to the bench. “Stuff.”

The clerk hums in acknowledgment and reveals the price.

Aofil exits the store frowning at the receipt. “I hope that I can return it afterwards. Cost me a leg.”

Sans beckons for Aofil to give him the receipt. “What? Why do you want it?”

“just give it to me.” He studies it carefully. “weird, you said that it cost you a leg, but you bought a sweater.”

Aofil yanks it back. “Hilarious.”

“i’d say not to sweat it, but you bought one. it will look striping on you.”

Aofil’s brows lower on the word 'stripe'. They examine the sweater, and sigh.

“Hello again, something wrong with it?” the clerk asks with the same store smile.

Aofil fakes an embarrassed laugh. “Too many stripes. They wanted a sweater with one yellow stripe, not two.”

The clerk laughs. “I see, shouldn’t be a hassle to switch them. Give me a second, I’ll fetch one with one stripe.”

Aofil shakes their head as they near the bench again, this time with the right amount of stripe. ”Shopping done! Let’s go eat. I’m starving.

Sans stands up and extends his arm. “hi, starving.”

Aofil swats it away. “Shut up. Food court should be around here somewhere. Let’s head over.”

Frisk refuses to grab Aofil’s hand and instead walks behind them. Aofil’s neck strains as they constantly check behind them to see if Frisk is there.

They stop in front of a store. “What is it, Frisk?” Aofil asks, relieving their neck by turning their body around.

Frisk enters a small shop and Aofil follows with Sans right next to them. “Frisk?”

It’s a second hand store, with clothes, trinkets, and other miscellaneous items.

“Hm, didn’t know this one existed. Go and see if there’s an adult sized sweater here, Sans. I’ll go after Frisk.”

Sans shrugs and crawls inside a rack of jackets.

Aofil finds Frisk at the trinkets. “You find anything?”

Frisk nods and opens their hands.

“These,” Aofil picks up a locket from Frisk’s hand, “these look like Asriel and Chara’s.”

Frisk nods and brings out their own. From the outside they look exactly the same. A red, and a white heart.

“Good thing you found two.” Aofil tucks Frisk’s locket back inside their sweater. “You keep Chara’s close to you, to them.”

Frisk grabs their chest and nods.

“We can remove the hook and glue it on the other side so that the white heart is upside down. Let’s see what it says inside.” Aofil opens the locket. “Best siblings forever. Dammit.” They close it and rub their forehead. “Maybe he won’t notice? It was a long time ago.”

Frisk hands the pair over. Aofil pats them on the shoulder. “Thanks, Frisk. Anything to help me be more like, um, them.”

A police siren shrieks right behind Aofil and they flinch. They turn around to see Sans laughing. “didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“It’s a siren.”

He shrugs. “semantics. remember when i summoned your soul?”

“When you attacked me, yes,” Aofil corrects.

Sans shrugs again. “semantics.”

Aofil shakes their head. “No.”

“watch this,” he pushes a button on the siren and it lights up red.

Aofil nods. “Yeah, that’s what the police siren does.” Sans pushes the button again and the color shifts to blue. “Oh, now that’s clever, Sans. I gotta admit. Even though I feel angry at you even thinking of that in the first place.”

Aofil knocks on the plastic toy with a finger. “Though, you think Flowey will be fooled? It’s not really the exact colors.”

“seeing his long lost sibling defeating the smiley trashbag will hopefully be enough to distract him from the exact colors.”

Aofil takes the siren in their hand. “Am I just gonna carry it around while I’m in the Underground?”

A nearby customer cocks their head, but Aofil waves the lamp at them. “For a party!”

The customer nods and returns to browsing some old magazines.

“i’ll give it to grillby. we’ll meet in the ruins so that we’re sure that flowey can see us. i’ll call you out for stealing aofil’s body, and then you’ll fight me,” Sans continues with the same volume to his voice. No effort to lowering it whatsoever.

The clerk raises an eyebrow as Aofil piles the things on the countertop. “Sounds like a fun party you're planning.”

Aofil smiles even though they’re annoyed by the eavesdropping. “Yeah, it’s gonna be amazing.”

The clerk accepts the cash. “Monster themed?”

Aofil feels their smile fade. “Yes, and no.”

With a store smile the clerk hands Aofil their purchase in a bag. “Good luck with it.”

Aofil nods and exits the store along with their two companions.

Sans hawks before continuing. “after i’ve turned your soul blue.” He taps on the alarm. “you’ll show me the power of your determination and i’ll, die.”

“No need to do the finger quotes, Sans. No one else is dying.”

“forgive me for making sure that i’m safe around murderous humans chock full of determination.”

Frisk hides behind Aofil’s leg.

“and then you’ll bring the mistake up to your house and down into the basement where we’ll turn him back to asriel.” Sans claps his hands once. “easy as that.”

After a brief silence Aofil scratches their nose. “When you put it like that.”

Sans seats himself at a table and leans back. “glad you agree with me.”

Aofil puts the bags on him and pulls out a chair for Frisk. ”Burger and fries?”

Frisk nods.

Sans raises a finger from underneath his jacket.

“And ketchup with a side order of hotdog for you.”

Sans lowers his finger.

As Aofil walks up to the queue they overhear a conversation from the people in front of them.

“Did you hear about the press conference?”

“That the monsters held? Yeah, from what I heard things went a bit, weird.”

“Really? Weird? I heard it went great,” the man smiles. “Wait, did you read it from the free paper?”

Aofil’s ears forces them to turn themselves towards the conversation.

“Yes.”

“Haha, no wonder. I had a friend that attended it, he was applying for a teacher job there. I asked him why, and he told me that he had a feeling that it would be one of the best schools in the land. Anyway-”

Aofil interrupts with a tap on the man’s shoulder. “Wait, did the press conference really happen? Did they seem confused, like their minds were somewhere else?”

The man scoffs. “Did you also hear that from the free paper? No, my friend told me that the king had a tongue made out of the purest silver. He’d never heard a speech like that before.” The man puts a finger on his lip. “Although now that you mention it, my friend did say that he did sound a bit nervous, but nothing that impacted his speech.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

So what they feared was true, Toriel and Asgore are better off without them. If Aofil were there they wouldn’t have been able to say a single cohesive sentence. It’s good thing they left. They’ll set things right. They have to.

“Can I take your order?” asks the restaurant worker.

And the next step starts with food. “Yes, hello. I’d like two orders of burger and fries. And a hot dog.”

The food is prepared alarmingly quick. “Ketchup and spices are around the corner,” informs the worker.

Aofil brings another container with them to the condiment stand. They fill it up with ketchup and put the hot dog in while ignoring the perplexed look of those around them.

“From eating at the fanciest restaurant in town to having a burger at the mall,” Aofil realizes with a tired huff as they serve their table. “A bit of a contrast when it comes to me dining with monsters, but I can think of worse things to eat before I,” they pick up a fry and spin it around, “assume the form of my dead twin and convince the one that almost murdered me to follow me.”

It tastes very salty. Too salty. Oh well.

Not much else is said during the meal. Though to be fair, what can be said? Nothing that would increase spirits.

“you should probably cut your hair before you go down there, aof.”

Aofil is interrupted mid bite. “What?” they ask with their mouth muffled by the burger.

Sans dries off his mouth with his already stained sleeve. “so that you don’t have radentim style both your hair and sweater. they might recognize who you’re trying to imitate.”

Aofil takes a sip of soda to wash the food down. “And wear a beanie all the way to the Ruins? Even through Hotland? Should I have a jacket over the sweater as well?”

“we only want flowey to see you as chara. how do you think toriel or asgore will react when they find out that you’re not only impersonating them, but you’re their twin as well!”

Aofil halts another sip. “And you know what will happen when they meet their dead son Asriel?”

Sans laughs. “got me there, aof.”

Aofil sighs in frustration. “Thought so.”

“so what about that haircut?”

“Could I at least finish my meal?” Aofil retorts with some slight frustration.

“sure, enjoy your food while your friends struggle for sanity.”

Aofil takes another bite and chew very slowly. “I’m not there with them, so they’re not really in danger.” They nod towards the food queue. “I overheard some people talking about the speech Asgore held, and it went pretty well.”

Sans leans back. “fair enough then.”

“I’ve already agreed to doing this, Sans. No need to keep spurring.”

“i didn’t know humans could talk and eat at the same time.”

Aofil realizes that the conversation will not go anywhere, so they take another bite instead. It tastes good. Silver lining.

“So,” the barber asks as she flips the thin plastic cover around Aofil’s neck, “what do you want me to do?”

She fastens it tightly around Aofil’s neck. It’s not tight enough to strangle them, but they’re constantly aware that it’s there.

Aofil worms an arm from out of the cover and throw a thumb over their shoulder. “As close at the kid as possible.”

The barber looks back and forth. “You serious?”

Aofil nods. “Yes, long sides and as low of a fringe as you can.”

The barber spins a pair of scissors in her hands. “If you say so. May I ask why?”

“You do manicures as well? For the face? If you could just get my tone a bit darker, like a nice tan.”

The barber leans over. “You absolutely sure you want me to do this? Your cheeks contrast so well with your light tone, it’d be a shame if they were hidden.”

Aofil furrows their brow.

“I’m serious!” the barber laughs. “You’re not as pale as your friend over there,” she whispers, “so they’re not like two stop signs on your face. They’re really nice, I promise. I could make them blend a bit better, but your natural look is very pretty.”

Aofil feels a smile forming. “T-thank you.” They're not really sure how to react to this. It sounds nice to their ears, that's for a certain.

“They’re even better now that you’re blushing. If you want a change that’s fine by me. I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen it before. Tell you what, I’ll do it free of charge since I feel like I just insulted you. And hey, if you don’t like the makeup you can always take it off. Let me fetch some stuff, I’ll be right back.”

“Hey kid!” she yells as she rounds the counter. She picks up a lollipop from a bowl, “Catch!” and throws it towards Frisk. It bounces on the leather sofa and Frisk nods in thanks.

She returns a couple of minutes after with some makeup and bottles. “I’ll do your hair first and then we’ll do your face in. Sorry, poor choice of words.”

Aofil chuckles. “It’s OK.”

As the snipping of the scissors fade into white noise Aofil catches themselves in the mirror. This one is clean, no makeup to hide their cheeks. Pink cheeks. Yup, that’s what they have.

Their smile can’t stay up. They can’t see their cheeks as anything but their curse. Maybe once they move away they can appreciate them more. Like how they thought of them before they knew about the curse.

The barber tilts Aofil’s head up. “All done. Looks good?”

Aofil looks at themselves. Is this how Chara would’ve looked if they were alive? Hopefully so.

Aofil nods. “Yeah, it’s good.”

The barber picks up a container and opens it. “Then let’s get started on your face. Close your eyes.”

Despite the reason for it, it feels good to be taken care of.

A couple of minutes pass. “There, all done. Cheeks hidden and tan painted.”

Aofil agrees. Their skin looks like they’ve just come back from a nice vacation. They thank the barber and pay her. She waves the three goodbye. “Come back anytime.”

Aofil scratches their neck. The clippers the barber used could’ve used a bit of sharpening. “OK, let’s head to the parking lot so that we can shortcut home without being noticed.”

As they round a corner they’re forced to elbow their way through the crowd. Aofil keeps a hand tightly around Frisk’s.

“why not just shortcut from here?” Sans asks as he’s almost hit in the head with a briefcase.

“Because there might be cameras pointed at us,” Aofil explains. “I’d rather not,” the wooden floor in their hallway creeks as they take another step on it, “be spotted doing magic.”

Their sighs adds to the wind from Sans’ shortcut.

Sans takes the siren out of the bag, “i’ll stash this at grillby,” and Frisk’s hand, “and i’ll stash you at toriel. keep her and the others safe, frisk.”

“Shouldn’t we maybe do some practicing before I-” but Sans and Frisk are already gone. God dammit. Maybe the mirror will do?

Aofil walks upstairs and into their bathroom. Their hairdryer is overjoyed. “Could you blow off the loose hair?" Aofil asks of it. "It’s starting to itch.”

The hairdryer jumps up on Aofil’s shoulder and puffs away the hair.

“By the way, you’re not good at acting by any chance?”

The hairdryer doesn’t seem to understand the question. Figures. Aofil catches themselves in the mirror. “Hi, Asriel,” they say. It looks weird. Feels weird. “It’s me, Chara.”

No, not convincing at all. It just sounds wrong. Aofil glances at their hairdryer. Maybe if they got a bit cursed up? Would that help? They grab the hairdryer. It whirs in excitement. Aofil inspects it, there must be a way to open it up. They lift a small hatch. Inside is something glowing, pulsating. Something made of magic.

They scrape it with their finger and the hairdryer convulses. Aofil quickly retracts their finger. “Sorry.”

They close the hatch, they can’t do it. They know it isn’t aware, but it has magic. Aofil needs to be prepared. They can’t screw up convincing Flowey. They need to do it.

“Sorry,” Aofil whispers again as they open the hatch one more time. They flick the magic out of it and it lands in their hand. Like a glowing ball. Aofil throws it against their chest. A surge of aching warmth blossom from their torso.

They look at the limp household appliance in their hand. It lays still. Pathetic. Aofil look at themselves in the mirror. “Hello, Asriel,” they say again. “It’s me,” their lips curl back to reveal their teeth. They lower their head, letting their fringe cover their eyes like a veil, “Chara.”

“It’s been so long. Look at you in that form,” they cover a laugh with their hand. “The Asriel I knew didn’t look like that.” Aofil offers their reflection a welcoming hand. “Let’s show them what real determination looks like.”

The warmth contracts back and is replaced with a sickening wave of awareness. Aofil rushes to the toilet and leans over it. The sound of them throwing up echoes throughout the house. After some violent hulks they rinse their mouth and spit out the last of their gunk into the toilet before flushing.

Well, that didn’t work at all. That’s not the Chara they know. They didn’t act that way when they met them nor in the tapes. Aofil lays down on the tile floor. The dead hairdryer lies next to them. Alphys can fix it, Aofil reminds themselves. It wasn’t alive. It just had magic. Still though... Aofil shakes their focus back. At least now they know that determination won’t help.

They have a bit more luck with the locket though. Turns out it has a hole on the other side so Aofil just flips it over and reattaches the chain. Perfect. It hangs a bit close to their throat, but they cover it with their shirt. A beanie over their hair to hide that as well. Sweater in their backpack along with a water bottle for Hotland. Ah, and some tissues for the air in the CORE.

They catch a glimpse of the figure passing by their hallway mirror. They look nothing like themselves. Aofil nods at it. Good, easier to not be recognized. There’s just one thing they have to do before they do this though. They lock the door and head for the mountain.

The iron gate squeaks as Aofil opens it.


	44. Off to pick a flower

Aofil removes their backpack and lays down next to their family. The sweater inside their bag makes a nice pillow and they close their eyes for a second.

The wind picks up and the aspen shakes above them.

Aofil looks around to make sure it isn't Sans. "Yes, hello again. Two times in one day, can’t remember the last time." They tilt their head towards the graves. "I'll try not to puke on you this time. And throw gravel."

The wind dies down a bit. "Yeah, but at least I got to see my soul. It is,” Aofil taps their chest, “not pretty. Dad, I'm not blaming you for it. I wouldn't be here were it not for you."

The leafs flutter and Aofil rolls their eyes. "Not like that, dad, stop it. You know what I mean, with the healing. Good thing I was out cold," Aofil sits up, "otherwise I would've probably attacked you. Like how-"

Aofil is forced to dry their eyes before tears form lest it clears their makeup. They take a calming breath to steady their voice. “Mom, dad, I found out what happened to Chara when they fell.”

The wind sighs and the aspen leafs tremble furiously. “Yeah. When they fell they met up with a monster called Asriel. Asriel took them home to his parents and Chara was adopted into his family. They were afraid at first, understandable, but it didn’t take long before Chara and Asriel became,” Aofil lifts up their locket from inside their sweater and opens it so that their family can see it, “best siblings forever.”

They nestle it back. “Chara became the hope of the Underground and was later crowned as a royal heir. So I guess we’re royalty as well. Cool, right?”

No answer.

“I don’t know if they forgot their promise to me to find out how to break our curse, or if they just wanted revenge for what you...did.”

The shadows cast by the leafs seem darker all of a sudden. Aofil sees that the sun is setting. “But they poisoned themselves and forced Asriel to take their soul. The two fused together to exit through the Barrier.”

Aofil lies back down. “And you know the rest.”

The leafs sway silently and Aofil follows them with their eyes.

“Oh yeah, I also found their old stuff in the attic. Not really sure why you left it behind if you wanted me to forget about them.”

They look towards the grave for an answer, but there’s only silence. “By the way, I finally figured out why the wall was hollow and why our sister’s door was load bearing, bro. Mom and dad did it to help me forget that me and Chara shared the same room. So your theory about mom and dad’s stash isn’t true, I’m afraid. I wish it was, though.”

A small gust tugs at Aofil’s beanie. “Oh this?” They remove it, “You see, um,” and wring it in their hand, “I’m going back down to meet Flowey, and I’m dressed as Chara. You remember the memories thing? Turns out it’s affecting everyone, and it’s horrible. No one can think straight while I’m around because they remember me from before the reset. So I have to bring back Asriel to shock them back into sanity.”

Aofil sighs deeply. “But even that won’t solve everything, just for the monsters. There are still people that go insane around me. Dad, do you remember the builder that you healed? I watched him break down in front of me. I saw him struggle and question himself to the point of tears, and then some.”

The tree shakes and some leafs fall down gently on the ground beside Aofil. “I shouldn’t even have to do this. Why do I love them? Why did they have to bond with the only one with determination? I should just move, leave all this behind me. But I can’t, they’re my friends. Friends that have killed,” Aofil scratches their nose, “like me. I mean, not exactly like me, but still. I feel like I have to make it up for them somehow even though it hasn’t happened.”

They open their backpack and place a bouquet of flowers on the graves. “So even if I manage to bring someone back from the dead I don’t think I can stay here anymore. I just want to say that I probably won’t be able to visit anytime soon after today. I’ll,” they dry off another tear, “I’ll always love you, no matter where I am.”

Aofil stands up and mounts their backpack. “I’ll bring the Dreemurrs around before I leave so that they can give their thanks for Chara. I feel like that might help them close that chapter for good so that they will perhaps not lie again in the inevitable trial. I’ve still not decided whether or not to tell them that I’m their twin, but hopefully I’ve made a choice when that bridge comes up.”

With trembling arms they embrace the gravestones. “Thanks again for helping me.”

The gravel path is disturbed by a pair of light footsteps. “Twice in one day? I see that you brought flowers as well. They’re very beautiful, I’m sure your family will appreciate them.”

Aofil takes the pastor’s outstretched hand and stands up with it. “Yes, thank you father.”

He motions for a bench under the aspen tree. “Come, sit with me for a moment.” Aofil joins him. “My child, now that you know, do you see why I can’t forgive your parents. They failed to take care of both you and Chara, and because of that Chara was killed, and you were on the brink of death, Aofil. I’ve kept your secret because I hoped that it would fade away with time. Your parents never told you why I resented them, did they?”

“No.”

“Your parents were good folk, and as I said, I mourn them every day,” the pastor turns his head towards the grave, “but when I look at them I only see you and Chara’s lifeless bodies around that monster.”

“Why aren’t you mad at the monster then?”

“Because I couldn’t believe that they would come back. Seeing Chara with it as well, dead. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want it to be true.”

Aofil locks eyes with the pastor. “Father, with all due respect, fuck you.”

The pastor nods. “That’s only fair. I guess my faith failed me that day, seeing something that was only spoken in legends be true. And now the monsters walking among us. Do they even know what happened to you two? And the other kids that have disappeared?”

Aofil looks away. “I can’t tell you, father. I wish I could, but I don’t dare. Please understand.”

There’s a moment of silence. The wind is still, as well as the tree.

The pastor meets Aofil’s eyes. “Aofil, I’ve been thinking about you befriending the monsters even though you know that they tried to kill you before. I can’t tell whether it’s an act of a well meaning and kind person or someone very foolish.”

Aofil scoffs, “I can’t answer that either, father. I’d like to tell you to go to hell, but truth be told,” and stands up. “I don’t really know myself.”

The iron gate squeaks as Aofil closes it behind them.

The passage to the trail leading up the mountain has yet to recover from Undyne’s trimming and it welcomes Aofil back to travel up it once again. The shadows of the leafs from the crowns above them still dance on the ground like they’ve always done. Aofil wants to slow down to enjoy them for the last time, but they’re in a hurry? Or are they? No, not really.

Aofil relaxes their speed and takes a deep breath of fresh air. Their friends are safe for now, they can afford to calm down before they have to assume the charade. Sans might need time to move whatever machine he was talking about too. Aofil readjusts their backpack.

A while later they swing a pair of tired legs over the cliff edge. The sun has almost set and the long shadows from their town stretch out towards Mt. Ebott. Everything in front of them is bathed in orange, it looks peaceful. Aofil glances over to the monster neighborhood. The remains of Undyne and Alphys’ house lie in a surprisingly neat pile considering what happened.

Hopefully Frisk is keeping appearances and sanity up for the monsters. It’s gonna be a hard hitter no matter what happens down in the Underground. Aofil is a bit excited to return down though, they have to admit. It’s a beautiful place, despite everything, and everyone. They sigh, they’re gonna miss it.

They watch the sun set halfway before deciding that now is a good time as any. They stand up and walk up to the cave. Despite its dark and ominous mouth it breaths a calming warmth. Almost like a sigh.

They put on their beanie again to conceal their hair. The surprise has to be saved for Flowey. He needs to feel its full effect for this plan to even have the slightest chance of succeeding.

“Yeah, it’s me again,” Aofil addresses the entrance to the Underground, their stage for this play that they’re about to act in. They breath in the cave air, air from the Underground, and breath out themselves. “Chara.”

They passes the stone that their twin hit their head on, and the other stone that they also hit their head on. The hole is just as scary as it was when they fell down it. They lay down to try and see if they can spot Flowey. They see the pile of golden flowers that cushioned their fall.

“Asriel!” they shout down the hole. The patch doesn’t move. “Flowey?” Still nothing. Weird, he promised to take care of their grave. Where could he be? Probably off crying somewhere. Chara stands up again and continues down the cave.

A blinding light forces them to cover their face with their arm. They blink a couple of times to adjust their eyes to the white and formless corridor. On the ground in front of them are signs of a battle, a magical battle. A battle between a kid and a god.

Frisk’s footprints move around glowing scars on the ground. Chara runs their hand over the orange and blue slices. They feel the magic resonating from them. It’s powerful. Something stirs inside them and they remove their hand before their curse wakes up. Not now, they have to save it for Flowey.

“Man, you sure were cool, Asriel. Using both our swords to attack Frisk. Which color was mine?” Chara asks into the echoing chamber hoping that he might be eavesdropping. They don’t spot him as they travel down the blinding corridor.

Chara steps out into the throne room. A sprawling bed of golden flowers and climbing ivy welcomes them to the throne that would’ve been theirs. They smile as they see it all. Next to them they spot a pair of covered chairs.

Ripping the cover off exposes two large and ornate chairs clad in purple and with the delta rune sewn into the back. The chairs are very large and Chara can’t muster the strength to lift them to their appropriate place in the middle of the room. They seat themselves in it regardless.

With their hand they pat the pillow on the other throne. “Need you here, Asriel! Can’t rule without you!”

Still no crying flower around, just normal ones. Chara sighs and jumps out of the chair. As they exit the throne room they face a fork in the road.

Their footsteps echo as they walk down the long stair. When they reach the bottom they flick a light switch. They inspect the coffins and the spectrum of souls.

They blow their lips, “Weak,” and give one a kick. Something inside is tossed around. Something heavy.

They ignore the coffin with the red heart as they walk back up.

The colorful hallway on the other side of the fork brings back some unpleasant memories. Sans’ judgment, Chara and Frisk’s change of heart. Horrible. Their eyes fixate on the ceiling above them. All the monsters. Mom and dad embracing Asriel, and Chara in between them all.

“We’ll be together soon enough!” Chara looks around. “Right, Asriel?” they ask the room with their voice raised. Their question bounce around and die off after some time. Still no response. Aofil knows that he’s watching, somewhere. Like he was with Frisk.

Gray, gray as far as the eye can see. The contrast from the golden hallway to the colorless view before them. Chara ignores the elevator and instead walk on the pathway leading home. The skyline, can you call it that if the city is below a mountain, whatever, the skyline, despite its lack of color, still looks pleasing as always.

Chara throws out their arms. “We’ll repaint it all once we get to rule, Asriel!”

Still nothing.

Chara opens the basement door to their home while shaking their head. Can’t he just come out already? They ascend the stairs and enter the kitchen to refill their water bottle. The fridge is empty. Chara huffs. They look inside the cupboard, no knifes.

The door to their old room opens quietly. Chara throws off their backpack and jump into their old bed. “Remember the first night after I fell?” They think they hear something move outside the door. “You told me you wanted to be my best friend.” Chara stands up and sneaks up towards the door. They grab the handle, “And then you cried,” and swing it open, “Like this!”

Empty, no one is there. Chara lowers their head and fetches their backpack. Out of curiosity they open the closet and discover a row of striped shirts. Aofil twists their lips, could’ve just gotten one from here. Too late for that now. Chara shakes the thought away, gotta focus on Flowey at the moment.

At the end of the hallway is a mirror that only reaches to their shoulders. Chara tilts their head down into view and smile. “Still me.”

As they exit they listen for any sounds of movement that’s not theirs. Nothing. Wait, there’s something. Oh, just a Froggit, nevermind. Chara nods towards it as they pass. “Howdy.” It nods back with a meow.

The elevator at the end of the walkway arrives almost instantly and Chara hovers their hand over the buttons. They see one labeled ‘MTT Hotel’ and press that one instead of traveling to the CORE.

The doors open up to a lively lobby full of diverse monsters. They don’t seem to mind Chara though. The smell of grilled meat hits their nose, and their stomach grumbles. Aofil shrugs their shoulders. Why not see how monster burgers taste while they have the chance?

“Howdy,” Chara addresses the monster behind the counter.

“Welcome to MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, home of the Glamburger,” Undyne sighs, causing the small hat on her head to almost fall off, “punk.”

“Now now, darling,” Mettaton wags a disciplining finger while readjusting Undyne’s hat with his other extended arm, “you can’t address this valuable customer like that. Try again, without the insult, or else I’ll tell the king how you aren’t trying to improve your cooking.”

Mettaton pinches Undyne’s cheek. “And we wouldn’t want our magnificent king to be mad at his head of security now would we, my sweetie of an employee who’s here to sparkle up this customer’s day?”

Undyne’s hand curls up into a furious fist clenched in anger. A plastered smile fights her burning gaze towards Mettaton.

He taps his fingers on his crossed arms. “Don’t smile at me, Undy deary. I’m flattered that you think so highly off your boss and idol, but you should do it towards the customer. Take the darling’s order now, darling.”

Chara can almost hear the crackling of Undyne’s tendons as she slowly turns her head back towards the counter. “How can I help you,” she struggles with the words, almost as if they hurt her, “o customer?”

Chara masks their voice. “Could I get a-”

Mettaton pushes Undyne away. “Oh my, a human,” he snaps his fingers and points Undyne towards the grills behind him, “and a big one to boot. Marvelous.”

With grinding teeth Undyne mans a cooking station. Chara can’t tell whether or not it’s her or the food that’s sizzling angrily, but judging from her mouth movement they guess it’s Undyne.

Mettaton extends his leg and leans on his elbows on the counter. “Pray tell, darling dearest, you don’t happen to be busy this evening?” He brings up a large stack of papers from underneath the counter. “Just sign here, and here, and I’ll make you a star.”

Becoming a star means that Chara gets to visit Radentim. Perfect. “Do you have a pen?” they ask

“Ah, you drive a hard bargain, human sweetie.” Mettaton turns around and whistles for Undyne. How? “Undy, get me a glamburger and a steak with my face.” Mettaton then takes Chara’s hand and strokes it.

“Could you please not?”

“Human, I’ll give you these gifts of the best of what MTT can offer, and all I ask for is an interview. Five minutes.”

Chara blinks. “I agreed.”

Mettaton releases their hand. “Oh.”

“Your last interview didn’t go so well!” Undyne yells from the kitchen.

“How are we on the food, Undy? Asgore won’t like it if I tell him that you’re slacking, my love.”

Undyne mutters something under her breath as she puts the items down on the counter. Mettaton grabs her arms as she tries to leave. “Let’s say it together.”

Undyne’s eyes could pierce armor, but it just glances off Mettaton. “Thanksy, and have a fabuful day,” she finally submits.

She jerks her hand back to herself and returns to a grill. The sizzling is even louder. Mettaton opens the boxes. He closes them just as fast and turns on his wheel. “Undy, sweetie, darling, honey, are you trying to make me flip my button?”

Undyne tries desperately to hold in her laughter. “No.”

“It’s either flipping button or burgers. Your choice, Undy.”

Undyne’s face explodes into joy. “I had a choice?” She tosses her MTT branded hat on Mettaton’s face. As it slowly glides down his face he sighs and flicks a pen out from a finger. He takes Chara’s hand and signs the papers. Undyne suplexes a freezer in the background.

“I’m terribly sorry for this, human dear. Just go through that door opposite you and tell them that M sent you and that you need to speak with Radentim. I’ll be there,” Mettaton flips the button on his back, “in a moment.”

A gate rolls down with a picture of Mettaton posing saying that he’s terribly sorry, but the store is closed. From inside Chara hears fighting and Undyne’s roaring laughter.

A monster sizes up Chara after three knocks. “Howdy, M told me I should see Radentim,” they inform it.

The monster beckons for Chara to enter and it closes the door behind them. “Radentim is down and to the right. Big R on the door, can’t miss it.”

Just one knock is needed for Radentim to call Chara in. “M sent you?”

Chara nods.

She picks up a pair of scissor. “Why don’t you have a seat so that we can start?”

Chara removes their backpack, “Actually, I was wondering if you could make this a bit bigger?” and shows Radentim the green sweater. “It’s not really my size.”

Radentim takes it and measures it up. “You got that right. Hm, if you’ll give me just a moment.”

He fills up a bathtub with hot water and then dips the sweater. She then asks Chara to remove their shirt while wrapping a sturdy towel around Chara’s waist. They then tread it over Chara’s head and stretches it out with their other arms. “If you could just hold it there for a moment.”

Chara catches in the mirror that the water has removed some of their makeup. They let down their hair a bit to cover it.

Radentim returns with another monster. “Dry them,” he command before hovering his arms over the sweater.

“Ahh! I’m helping!” the monster squeaks as it shoots a fireball towards Chara.

Radentim catches it with a wet towel and proceeds to hover it above the sweater while he whistles a tune Chara should probably know, but can’t at the moment. They still whistle along.

“Thank you, Vulkin. You’re dismissed,” Radentim smiles towards the monster after a minute of so of tinkering with Chara’s sweater.

The small vulcan shaped monster skips away congratulating itself while small lumps of lava landing around it and burning the floor.

“Stretch your arms. Does it fit?” Randetim asks Chara.

It does. It feels almost tailor made. Technically it is, right?

Chara puts a thin jacket over the sweater. “It fits perfectly. Many thanks.”

Radentim bows. “Pleased to hear that. The stage entrance is three doors down to the left.”

Chara goes the other way, their business here is done. The monster at the door looks at Chara perplexed before letting them out.

The monster at the door wishes the human welcome back whenever they please.

Aofil nods. “Yeah, sure.”


	45. Sample size determination

“Oh my god!”

Chara tilts their head towards the sound.

“Bratty, do you see that human?”

They furrow their brow.

“They went inside the door. The backstage door!”

Chara stares at the two heads peeking around the corner.

“You think they can see us, Catty?”

Chara nods. “Yes.”

The two monsters squeal. “Told you it wasn’t like, subtle. Should we ask them?”

“About what, Catty?”

Even though one whispers to the other Chara can read the obvious words on its lips. “The door.”

“Oh! My! God! Yes! Catty! You’re a genius!”

The two monster come up giggling to Chara. “S-so, did you meet him?”

Chara takes a step back away from the big smiles and blatant disregard for personal space. “Who? M? Yeah.”

The monsters follow Chara’s step. “Ex?”

Chara looks around for some sort of diversion. “No, he was in his box form.”

“What was it like backstage?”

Their eyes are unblinking. Chara would rather get out of this sooner rather than later. “Boring. Very boring.”

The two monsters both look at each other with disappointed frowns. “Oh, I thought it would be glamulicious, like him. Oh well,” shrugs Catty. “Wanna buy some stuff, human?”

Chara shakes their head. “No. What?”

“Oh well. Like, see you later and stuff!”

The monsters return back around the corner of the building and Chara needs to collect themselves for a minute before finding a grasp on what just happened. They exhale their confusion and just shake their head again.

The blue bunny waves to Chara with a smile on his face. "Hello, friend. Can I interest you in a nice cream?"

Chara politely declines the offer. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."

“Wait!” commands an armored monster next to the Nice Cream stand. “You’re a human, aren’t you?”

“Yes?”

The monster nudges the one next to him. It’s also wearing armor. “Hey, Two. We’ll get a nice cream later, let’s escort this one to the Lab.”

The other monster turns with an ice lolli in his mouth. “But I already bought one, One”

One sighs. “We’re supposed to be professional.”

“I’m sorry,” Two takes out his nice cream. “I didn’t see them.” He turns towards Chara. “Hey, if we buy you a nice cream will you be quiet about us snacking on guard?”

“I really have to go," Chara again says. "I got someone I have to talk to.”

One walks up to Chara. His intimidating presence and sweaty body is a bit too close for comfort. “We know. Asgore has ordered all humans to be pointed towards the Lab for the tour of the Underground. Please follow us.”

Two shines up. “You sound so cool, One.”

One motions for an elevator in the distance., “After you, human.”

Chara points the other way. “Listen, I really have to-”

“Follow us, yes,” Two finishes as he takes position next to One. “It’s an order directly from the king.”

Chara turns around and walks the other way. “Dad can yell at me later.”

Four hands grab one limb each and Chara is hauled up into the air. “Hey! What are you doing?”

They look around, but they can’t see Flowey anywhere. It was a risky gamble calling Asgore dad, but if they’re lucky the guards didn’t hear them. And if they’re luckier Flowey heard them.

The elevator ride down is very intimate. Not much room left to spare with two heavily armored monsters holding a human between them. Chara rolls their shoulders a bit as they feel them ache, and the monsters apologize before readjusting their grip. "Better?"

"A bit, yeah."

As the doors open Chara starts struggling, gotta keep up appearances. “Let me go!”

“We’re very sorry, human, but we’re under direct orders from the king to get you to the tour with the other humans. Any inconveniences will be compensated for,” Two explains.

Two swipes a keycard and the Lab doors open with a hiss. Chara is placed inside by the two royal guards. One call for Alphys, “Another human is here,” and leave Chara dusting themselves off.

The door closes behind Chara with another hiss that echoes throughout the large room.

“Alphys?” Chara asks and their echo repeats the questions.

No answer. Strange. Or did the guards misremember that there would be a tour? The lack of monsters and or people indicate that so is the case.

Aofil wonders if they can drop the charade for a little bit now that they’re alone. Flowey wouldn’t be here, Frisk said that he hated this place. Come to think of it, they didn’t say why.

The TV on the wall is following their every move. Despite it helping them notice that they’ve lost a bit more makeup on their forehead they still find it creepy. Aofil flicks a bit more of their fringe out from under their beanie. They wonder if Alphys will ever remove all those cameras littered around the Underground. Aofil halts their step, why not use them?

They walk up to the large monitor and scan the console for a way to switch between the cameras. They scroll between the many, many different views. The name of the cameras have numbers with three digits on them. Must’ve taken some time to set it all up, unless Alphys used magic, or something.

A camera shows a rather muscular wolf throwing ice blocks from a conveyor belt into some water in Snowdin. Why the belt isn’t extended all the way to the water escapes Aofil, and they continue browsing.

Monsters doing monster things. Grillby polishing a glass while eyeing two dogs kissing. Temmies being, well, Temmies. But no Flowey. Not even in the Ruins. There’s no camera monitoring Chara’s grave though. Aofil guesses that Toriel might have had something to say about that.

After a while Aofil feels that their head is starting to ache a bit. Watching all this flickering is hurting their eyes.

They drink some water to calm their head. It’s warm to the taste after their travel through Hotland. There’s not much left after they’ve quenched themselves, but they’ll not worry. They’ll just refill at the water cooler at the end of Hotland.

They’re a bit hungry though, and judging by the huge stacks of bowls and noodle cups on the desk next to them there should be some food in the refrigerator. Aofil grabs a cup of instant noodles and look around for a kettle of sorts. They almost stumble over a big bag of dog food. As it rattles they think they hear some muffled panting.

Aofil can’t seem to spot the source. What they do spot is a large hole where the bathroom that they changed clothes in was before. They peek inside and confirm to themselves that the hole has the same dimensions. Strange. If push comes to shove they might have to resort to using the one next to it. There’s a sign of Alphys next to it, but Aofil’s sure that it wouldn’t be a problem using it.

As the escalator takes them upstairs Aofil wonders why they haven’t seen any other toilets in the Underground. They almost forget to jump off in time as the escalator takes a rather jarring perpendicular turn.

A kettle stands on a hotplate on a desk next to a very strange looking machine. There’s a bit of water left and Aofil turns on the plate. The curious machine has two large handles with the labels ‘vanilla’ and ‘pink’ on them. A note in the middle reads, “Select the amount of vanilla and pink and then start the machine.”

Aofil pulls down the vanilla lever a couple of notches and the pink one just once. With the push of the start button the machine mutters and churns until it spits out a bowl of nice cream. Aofil samples it. It tastes a lot of vanilla and a bit of pink, like how Alphys’ perfume smells like. Fair enough.

The kettle whistles a different tune than the one they have at home and Aofil mixes the water with the noodles. The flavor packaging adds just that, flavor. Nothing that can be specified, just flavor. At least the ice cream have a taste they can put words to, even if it is an abstract taste.

They sit down to eat on the office chair close to the desk. There’s some papers strewn across it. Letters, it seems. Having nothing to do while eating Aofil picks one up and skims it through. The letter wonders how the dogs are doing and if they can visit someday. Guess that explains the big bag next to the fridge. Aofil swallows the last bite of ice cream and realize that they have to wash the bowls. But where? There’s no sink upstairs or downstairs. Well, except for the monster toilet, should be one there. Aofil walks on the conveyor belt and then down the escalator.

They run their hand over the door, but there’s no handle to grab onto. Aofil gives the sign a tap with their fist and the door opens. They fail to spot the door’s threshold and they drop their cups. The cups bounces on the wall opposite of them and a light flashes. Aofil quickly jerks their legs up towards them as the door closes. A low humming starts and the entire room shakes. Aofil looks at the console the shattered bowl hit. A button is lit.

‘True Lab’

Aofil just barely regains footing before the elevator stops violently. The doors open halfway before the lights inside the elevator shuts off. A faint red light slowly illuminates a long corridor outside the askew door.

Aofil hits a couple of buttons on the console, but nothing happens. No escape hatch on the roof of the cab either. Aofil mumbles some obscenities as they squeeze themselves through the elevator door. It closes violently behind them, and they shake their head. “Of all the things.”

The red light mixes with the dark green surroundings to create an ominous atmosphere hanging over Aofil as they pick a way and follow it. Industrial fans spin quietly above them, producing a chilling draft, and silent humming.

A screen embedded in the wall has some text blinking. “Data purge in progress. Analog copy preparation successful.”

There’s no controller nearby for the panel, and Aofil can’t help but feel a bit anxious about the wording used. It’s not what they need right now.

The corridor leads to a room hosting a slew of medical and surgical equipment. Chairs, cleaning stations, and storage for tools. As Aofil nears the chairs they see some stains. They audible hum in protest and peek through the door on the other side of the room. Nothing, just a console with a glowing heart. Dead end. They shake their head again. Wrong words! All wrong words!

They choose another corridor and quicken their step. More panels cover the wall. They all blink with the same lime green message, "Data purge in progress. Analog copy preparation successful,” but the blinking isn’t in sync. The message travels with Aofil as they make their way down the hallway. Aofil feels like the messages are guiding them, and they’d rather they didn’t. The hallway reaches another dead end.

“Why?” Aofil questions out loud. “Why this? I just want to get out, please!” They increase their voice. Aofil feels a bit better now that they’ve addressed the situation. They feel like they’ve regained some control over it, even though no one is here to hear it. Hopefully.

Something that looks like a shadow is jerked around the corner at the beginning of the hallway they just walked through. Aofil’s heart jumps, but they quickly realize that it was just a fan casting a ray of light on a potted plant. They curse their mind under their shaking breath, so much for having control.

Aofil tries to summon the elevator again, but it doesn’t respond. They sigh at it. Only one way left to explore. As they set foot inside the room it leads to Aofil definitely heard something move. Something is here with them. Shit.

They crouch behind a bed and bend their head down. They try to control their breathing, but it’s no use. Their heart is pounding incredibly fast, and they look around for anything that they can use to defend themselves with. Just beds, and some potted plants. Dammit.

With unstable legs they sneak towards the opposite side of the room. The sound fades behind them and Aofil carefully surveys the corner just in case before rounding it.

The blinking text of the monitors in the wall fight with the red light from the strips along the floor. It’s straining Aofil’s vision and they struggle to make out what the huge machine in front of them could be. Maybe they can bend something off it to use as a weapon.

“The fuck?” Aofil catches their mouth too late. Their words echo through the room and down the hallway. They know they have to hide, or at least find something to defend themselves with, but they can’t take their eyes off the twisted metal creation suspended in front of them.

Shaped like a bovine skull with thick and vibrating tubes coiling around the hollow eyes it hangs like an offering to some unspoken god. It smells of wet metal and ozone, and one whiff of it makes Aofil cough.

It hums louder than the fans around it, hollow and dark, just like how it looks. Nothing good can come out of it, and Aofil have no intention of touching it. They’re too close enough as it is. The hollow sockets follow Aofil as they make it around it slowly.

Rows of industrial refrigerators are placed in the next room. Numbers are listed on the door, written in a sloppy handwriting. There’s some sickly looking liquid oozing out of one. Aofil hopes it isn’t what they think it is. And if it is, how did it end up here?

“Dammit,” they curse as loud as they dare as they see that this room leads to another dead end. “God dammit!” This means that they have to go back, to the machine. Aofil gulps, and backs towards the thing down here with them.

There’s a spark in one of the empty sockets of the machine and Aofil flinches. The spark fades just as quickly as it emerged. Is it alive? Powered by magic? Please let this next door be the exit.

It’s not, but Aofil spots something even more peculiar than the machine. A TV surrounded on each side by two shelves filled with video tapes. They’re sticky with the same goo from the fridges. Aofil can smell it from the other side of the room. They lick their lips. Yup, it’s the same taste.

Determination.

But how? There’s so much of it! Isn’t Chara and Aofil the only one with it? And what is this place? Why didn’t Frisk say anything about it?

The sound of several footsteps closing fast forces Aofil to throw themselves out of sight. They hold a hand over their mouth as the footsteps slow down. A strange whimpering fills the room. It sounds like it has numerous voices, but all from the same mouth. There’s a spoken voice as well, but Aofil can’t make out who’s it is over the whimpering.

A bark, again with many voices spoken by one mouth, almost deafen Aofil, and the footsteps run back down the corridor. Aofil breathes quietly for a minute before peeking towards the hallway. A trail made out of drops of determination leads back to the room with the beds. Aofil runs silently and sneaks over to the other side of the hallway.

A loud sniff alerts Aofil and they quicken their pace. They run past a wall filled with fans before reaching a solid wall. The same wet steps from before increase in speed and volume, and Aofil turns to face their pursuer.

A large white figure with dark molds of dogs instead of legs jumps them. Aofil braces against it, but the monster’s weight forces them down on their back. The monsters lowers it heads despite Aofil pushing it away with all of their strength. A gaping and oozing hole closes in on their face. Aofil finds a grip beneath the thick layer of sludge and throws it aside.

They take strain against the wall and push off it to get a running start. Another deafening bark disorients them and they loose their footing on the slippery floor. Again they’re jumped and their jacket is gripped by the formless hole in the monster’s face. Aofil slips out of it and rolls away from the monster.

Scrambling on their feet, they again rush for the closest room. They smash every button on the keypad on the wall, but the door remains open. The monster looses its footing as well on the slippery floor, giving Aofil a split second to grab a sheet and a pillow from one of the beds.

The monster again pounces on Aofil, but they dodge it and throw a pillow against it. The monster catches it in its face hole and shakes it empty of stuffing. All the shadows it has instead of legs bend their front down and a large and white tail waves sludge all over the place.

It pushes the pillow back to Aofil with its head and lets out a pleased bark.

Aofil picks it up slowly and the hole follows it. They pretend to throw it and the monster flinches in eagerness. Aofil throws it towards a corner and the monster takes off. It brings it back and drops it on Aofil’s feet. Aofil looks down, and a slimy and cold tongue licks their face. They brush it off with their hand, and clean the sticky saliva off on the nearby bed.

“What are you?” Aofil asks the panting monster. Its ears perk and it takes off into an adjacent room. Aofil follows.

A long table filled with potted flowers causes Aofil to halt in fear. They’re the same as Flowey. Why are they here? Have they been experimented on? Aofil’s eyes widen in realization.

“Amalgamate...” The monster turns its head. “Flowey said he is an amalgamate.” Aofil meets the monster’s gaze. “And so are you.”

Aofil picks up a pot. “Alphys, what the hell are you doing down here?” They rub a petal between their fingers, “Why did you create Flowey?”

The amalgamate barks again and nods to a clogged console. Aofil puts the pot down and walks over to the console.

“Data purge complete. System restart and analog copy ready,” the screen blinks. “Complete puzzle to initiate.”

Aofil sees the solution immediately and swipes away the sludge on the keyboard. The red light fades, and the fans shut off. A second later the ceiling lamps blink to life, and the breeze of the fans return. A nearby machine whirs and a stack of paper is printed. Aofil picks them up.

‘Lab Entries’

“E-Endogeny?” shouts an echoing voice. Aofil recognizes it, but they don’t acknowledge it. Their burning rage keeps building as they continue reading.

“Endogeny! T-there you are! Let’s get you home again.”

The amalgamate runs to the voice, exposing Aofil to it.

“W-who are you?”

Aofil crumbles the papers in their hands and slowly turn around.

Alphys cowers. “Aof-fil? W-why are you h-here? H-how did you?”

“Shut up!” Aofil screams in anger. “Give me your phone!”

“W-why do you?”

“Give it here!” Aofil commands with fury. They’ve had enough of this.

Alphys grips her tail.

“Your phone! Now!”

She’s on the brink of tears, but Aofil spares no sympathy, not after what they just read. She gives Aofil the phone with shaking hand and Aofil snatches it out of her grip. They open it. “Magic identification required.”

“Unlock it.”

She does.

Aofil goes through the contacts and brings up Sans’ number. “hello, alphys,” he answers after a couple of tones. “if you’re calling about the machine then asgore had it moved.”

“Sans!” Aofil interrupts.

There’s a pause. “why are you-”

“Get Frisk and shortcut your way to True Lab.”

“shouldn’t you be-”

“Sans!” Aofil’s anger has Alphys and Endogeny whimpering. “I’m fucking serious right now!”

The phone hangs up, and shortly after a familiar wind surrounds Aofil. They throw the phone to Alphys, who drops it. With determined steps they walk up to Sans and Frisk.

Sans pats his cheek. “you have a spot missing.” Aofil shoves him aside.

They grip Frisk by the collar and lift them up violently. Sans and Alphys gasp, but Aofil doesn’t care. There’s only them and Frisk now. Frisk looks at Aofil with immense fear behind their eyes. Aofil hardens their gaze.

They wring the child closer to them. “You lying little shit!”


	46. More rose

"aof, let frisk go."

The words fall on deaf ears as Aofil keeps their grip rock hard on Frisk's sweater. Frisk tries to pull away the pale hands, but to no avail. Their face is consumed by fear, but Aofil couldn’t care less.

"Felt good, didn't it?" Aofil finally says. Their words are dark and full of hate. Frisk eyes dart across Aofil's face. "Frisk, I asked you a question!"

Endogeny cowers behind Alphys, but she provides no help. “A-Aof-fil, w-what ar-re you doing?” she stammers out from behind her tail.

“Shut it!” Aofil snarls with such a ferocity that forces Sans to step up.

“aof, put frisk down. let’s talk.”

Aofil cocks their head. “We’re gonna talk alright.”

Sans looks concerning towards Frisk who’s shaking all the way out to their toes. Their lip quivers like an earthquake and they look pleadingly towards Sans. “aof,” Sans tries again.

“Frisk!” Frisk turns their head back in fear towards Aofil. “I know what you did. I know it felt good. Feeling the dust on your hands, your entire body warm and fuzzy. The surge of determination flowing through your every vein. I know that feeling. It’s my curse.”

A gust flows through the room as Aofil takes a violent breath. “And Chara’s. You used them.”

Frisk shakes their head weakly.

“Really? Determination exists in every soul, not just in mine and Chara’s like you said,” Aofil points an accusing finger behind them. “Alphys’ research proved that, which means that you have it too. And having my curse coursing through you as well every time you killed? Must’ve been like a drug to you, right?”

Aofil throws Frisk down on the ground and they grunt in pain with a quiet sob. ”And you leeched that off my twin, you parasite. Dust sticking to your skin, determination flooding inside you.” Aofil waves their hand in front of Frisk’s face. “And the red mist behind your slits.”

Frisk turns their head away. “Frisk.”

They cover their face with their hands. “Frisk!” Aofil screams again.

Aofil turns them around, “Open your eyes!” and grabs their shaking head to hold it still. “Let me see you feeding on their curse!”

They peel off Frisk’s struggling hands from Frisk’s face and lift open their eyelids. A familiar red looks back at Aofil. It’s all the proof that they need.

With a powerful shove Aofil pushes Frisk away. “Are they even alive in there with you? Can they even hear us? You lied and told them that you were killing humans, right? And when Chara found out, did they scream for you to stop with every kill? But you ignored them, didn’t you?”

Frisk caresses their arm that they landed on. Tears fly off their face as they shake their head even harder.

“Chara died! Waking up from that is pretty jarring! I know that feeling as well. Did you try and leech my soul as well back then when I was dead? Wasn’t enough with Chara? The worst part of all is that I’m starting to doubt that it was really them and my family that I met. How do I know that it was real? That it wasn’t you manipulating me so that I could fix all of your problems that you created?“

Aofil catches their breath. “You said that Chara egged you on as well, right? To kill them all? Never once did it cross your mind that perhaps Chara was against you? Or were you just hooked on that sweet curse of ours so that all you heard was ‘kill, kill, kill’? Think, why would Chara, the hope of the Underground, child of the king and queen, heir to the royal throne, want to kill monsters? Their friends and family? They hated humanity, not the monsters.” Aofil squats down and presses their finger on Frisk’s chest. “No, you killed the monsters, Frisk. Killed for fun. Just like Flowey. You and him are just two kids with too much time and curiosity on your hands. You both have powers that you shouldn’t have, and we’re in this awful mess because of it.”

Frisk disappears and a wave of air hits Aofil. “Sans,” they gnarl. They turn around and see that Alphys and Endogeny are gone. Left standing is just Sans and Frisk looking worryingly at Aofil as they walk up with fists clenched in anger.

Sans pushes Frisk behind them. “aof, focus on the task. you’re acting a bit too much like chara right now. i know that it is the point and all, but tone it back in private. save it for when we meet flowey.”

“You’re surely mistaken if you think that I’m about to continue with your plan right now.”

“then forgive me for wanting to do the right thing and save my friends.”

Aofil chuckles. “You of all people want to give me moral advice?”

“i know chara better than you. though that might not be entirely relevant right now since chara tried to kill you! willingly as well,” Sans retorts viciously. “they were the one that proposed to attack the surface. you don’t think that might be proof enough of chara’s intentions?”

“They didn’t attack me on purpose!” Aofil roars back.

“so they just accidentally swiped your soul off with their claws? whoops,” Sans lightens his voice like a child’s, “killed my twin. oh well, that happens.”

“Screw you, Sans. I don’t need a lecture from the monster that could’ve stopped the genocide of his people but instead chose to make a goddamn scene once everyone was already dead and dust. A pompous corridor with a smug and grinning narcoleptic acting the judge despite not lifting a single finger to stop it all. Didn’t even step in to save your own brother!” Aofil takes a step forward. “So don’t you point fingers at me, or Chara.”

Sans’ eye flashes blue. “when i said that i wanted you to impersonate chara i didn’t mean that you would take after their stupidity. you think i didn’t try other things? the only way they stopped is because i finally managed to get them to see that it was chara that was in control, not frisk. i had to let chara grow stronger so that frisk could see what was happening. and it seems i made the right choice since we’re all alive now.”

“Really? Chara taking over Frisk’s body?” Aofil scoffs. “Chara? Dead Chara? My twin with no soul taking over Frisk and controlling their body?”

“see, you admit that they have no soul.”

“You know fully well what I mean!”

Sans waves the comment away. “doesn’t matter. the point is that frisk is hosting a demon inside of them, a fallen angel, if it makes you feel any better. your twin is the bad apple, whether you like it or not. you’re defending someone that wanted humanity dead. can’t you see that?”

“All I see now is two people that lied to me about my twin and my curse. Hell, I’m not even sure if the curse really is a thing now that determination is in every soul and not just in mine and Chara’s! So why should I listen to you?” Aofil throws away their beanie. “Why should I continue helping you? I’ve held my hand out for you from day one and now that I look at it it’s filled with lies and my dead twin. I was fine without your magic turning my world and life upside down, but the line has been crossed a long while ago now. Seeing death. Being dead! All these nightmares and seeing people around me go mental at the slightest glance of me. Nothing good has come out of you leaving the Underground.”

Sans pinches his nose. “how are you even more hollow skulled than i? didn’t toriel give you a job? and remember when flowey attacked you? we all chipped in when you were at the brink of death, and helped you recover.”

“Ha!” Aofil laughs loudly. “If it weren’t for you leaving the Underground I wouldn’t have been in that situation.”

“your friends mean nothing to you? is that what you’re saying?”

“Apparently my friendship doesn’t mean a lick of anything since all you’ve told me is a lie! Asgore, Toriel, Alphys, Undyne, everyone! Didn’t trust me with anything. Lied to me in the trial, attacked me with magic to show how it was my and Chara’s fault.”

Aofil huffs. “Asgore threw me under a goddamn bus just so that he could justify his murder of the six kids. I should’ve called him out on his bullshit. He even appointed Alphys to do experiments on them. No rest for the wicked, not in the Underground it seems! By the way, did Undyne bring some souls in for Alphys to poke around with? The start of their blossoming love paved by the souls of human kids! How can that lizard even live with herself?”

“barely, is the answer.”

“Not barely enough since it didn’t stop her from doing them. She made Flowey as well! Her resume is a lifetime experience in being in over her head.”

With a tired hand Aofil massages their forehead. “And what kind of king lets his people get experimented on? Good thing Toriel was there to help him to cope with his sadness.” They slap their forehead. “Oh wait! No, she was too busy throwing fireballs at kids.”

Aofil sighs angrily. ”Flowey was right about all of you! And you belong with them, Frisk! I should kill you and give Chara their proper rest, but unlike you I feel remorse after I get blood on my hands. Or dust, whatever! I also made a promise, no one else dies. I just hope that Chara hears this and fights to break away from you.”

Frisk crumples down in wails and tears.

Aofil throws a dismissive hand against them. “This entire thing is a mistake. Toriel and Asgore are happy enough without Asriel. Do your plan b instead, or better yet, don’t jeopardize anyone else.”

The fluff from Sans’ pockets fly through the air as he throws his hands up in the air. “it’s not about bringing him back just because, and you know that, aof!” Sans taps his skull. “stop being such an idiot. we agreed to do this!”

Aofil turns on their heel and walks away. “I’m done with your bullshit. You can get your dead crybaby goat back without me. I’m leaving. Good riddance.”

“that’s it? what about papyrus, toriel, undyne, asgore, and alphys? what about all the others? the reason we’re here in the first place?”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Aofil manages just a single step before they feel a force tugging their entire being back. “Try me, Sans. See what happens!”

Aofil is pushed towards the ground. They feel their legs shake from the pressure, but they fight it and slowly stand up. “I’m leaving,” they say viciously as they take another step.

A wall of bones is thrown up in front of Aofil. “no, you’re not,” Sans threatens. “we’ve got a job to do.”

Aofil grabs a bone. A sharp pain, like a cramp, shoots up their arm. They grunt, but with a determined tug they rip the bone out and step through the gap. They toss the bone next to Sans. It fades away as it bounces on the ground. Aofil massages their hand. “Don’t follow me.”

Sans lowers his and shortcuts away with Frisk. Aofil nods and turns back around. They feel strength return to their legs and they summon the elevator. Their injured breathing echoes through the empty lab.

The doors open and they step inside. Aofil spots themselves in the reflection of the metallic doors as they close. With their sleeve they dry off the remaining of the make up covering their cheeks. Red, just like Frisk’s eyes.

The metallic vibration of the doors is drowned out by Aofil’s pained scream. They clutch their shaking hand and stare at the dent they made in the door with their fist. Their curse is still staring back at them. Aofil grinds their teeth to try and control the pain. A slow minute later the elevator dings and the dented doors open.

Their focused inhales slows down as they near the door. They open with a hiss.

A bony hand grabs Aofil’s injured wrist. “told you i wouldn’t let you go.”

Aofil lands hard on their wrist as they crash down on the patch of golden flowers. They scream in agony.

“i tried you, human,” Sans nestles his hands down into his pockets. “i’m waiting to see what happens.”

“You’ve no clue how much I’ve been holding back.”

Sans sniffs calmly, almost sarcastically. “and neither have you.”

A large bovine skull emerges up from behind Sans very similar to the machine in the True Lab, except instead of meta,l it’s made of bone. “or at least, not with those eyes.” Sans nods towards Aofil, and the skull hovers slowly towards them. Its mouth opens ominously and energy builds up inside its mouth. “well, technically they’re the same,” he points two finger towards the human, “but, you know.”

The human throws themselves aside as the large beam of energy crashes down where they just stood.

The human stares back with fury and determination burning through them. “You smiley trashbag, the hell are you doing?”

Sans waves a dismissive finger. “don’t act like we haven’t done this before, human.”

The skull turns silently and charges up another attack. Aofil scrambles on their legs and dodges the blast in the last second. They’re thrown away by the blast and roll when they land. Confused, they try to get their bearings.

“Sans, I’m not,” the human is interrupted by another magic beam exploding the air above them.

“not aofil, i know.” He snaps his fingers and lifts up the human. “not after you slipped right in there all cozy like during your supposed healing. went a bit quicker than with frisk. can’t really fault you for bringing them back though, but i thought you learned your lesson on body stealing.”

The human grabs their soul in pain. “call it a mistake on my part,” Sans chuckles as he sees the human struggling. “seems that you’re starting to regret it as well. a bit different feeling pain primarily and not filtered through someone else?” He flexes his fingers and the human screams. “so, what happened after you realized that you were in control? stretched your new limbs a bit, took some nice fresh air. jumped for joy now that you could? and then once you landed promised your brother that you would return for him,” Sans throws the human on the golden flowers again. “right, chara?”

The blue glow from the human’s soul reflects on the flowers underneath them. Blue and yellow mixing together to form a emerald green hue that follows the human as they stand up. They wobble as they try and find their balance. “Sans, just let me leave.”

He shakes his head. “don’t think so. you’ll be around my friends, and you kinda wasted your whole trust with me when you infested frisk. you did your homework on your twin though, almost had me fooled.”

The human fights through Sans’ blue magic and charges at him. He shortcuts away, but the human keeps going. They rush the door and throw themselves at it with their shoulder.

A wall of bones is erected right in front of it and the human crashes into it, causing Sans to grunt heavily.

“didn’t do all of your homework though, chara,” Sans berates with a small chuckle while trying to recuperate from the impact. “last time that body was here aofil tried the same thing, didn’t work.”

The human forces their way up on their legs. “Let me go, Sans!”

A circle of bones is summoned around the human and thrown against them. They duck as quickly as they can, but one hits them in the chest and they recoil from the hit.

The human clutches their side and as they open their eyes their glare is lunged at Sans. The gaze is as red as their curse. It is in full effect, but this time they’re gonna use it. No holding back, Sans has gone too far. A piece of wood from the door lies next to them. It’s flimsy, but it’ll have to do. They pick it up. “Last chance.”

Another skull is summoned over Sans’ shoulder as the first one hovers to the other side. “i gave you that a long time ago.”

The stone floor underneath the human cracks with a deafening bang as the two skulls unleash their combined energy towards the plateau. Stone and debris comes crashing down around the human who rolled away to escape the blast.

They close the distance and swing against a skull. The swing misses, and they stumble before regaining their footing.

“heh, not used to having your eyes this far up? not surprising since you never did have the moral high ground.”

The human deflects a bone homing against them. It dissipates just behind them. “Again with the moral talk, Sans,” the human spits out, along with some blood and determination. “You slow to realize your hypocrisy?”

“wow, now that you’re saying it. looks like i’m acclimating really fast to returning to the surface,” he raises the skulls and circles them over the human, “cause i guess i might be human after all.”

The human takes cover behind an ornate pillar and the magic roars around them as the skulls fire again. As soon as the blasts stop the human takes strain against the pillar with their leg and push off. The stick breaks as one skull is struck hard. It wobbles in the air and smashes into the other skull. Both of them crash in a pile behind the human.

The skulls shake off the attack and float up into the air again. The sound of their magic building up turns the head of the human who searches desperately for something to take cover behind.

A thick stalk whistles past the human and hits the skull so it tilts up. The blast travels for a second before hitting the roof of the cavern. A low rumbling shakes the cavern as large rocks fall from the ceiling. One crashes right next to the human and they jump back. The skulls follow, but one is hit by a rock. Dazed by it, the skull slams into the ground.

Sans howls in pain and falls down on one knee. He grabs his chest and coughs. The human notices his face go darker by the second.

“Sans!” the human exclaims as they rush towards him.

“Look out!”

The human looks up and a snare catches their leg. A large boulder comes crashing down right before them and they smash their head into it.

“Chara! I’m so sorry Chara, I didn’t mean it.”

The human blinks.

“I-I’ll heal you right up. You just need to stand up.”

Blood runs over the human’s eyes.

“Chara! Please, don’t leave me again!”

Their vision darkens as vines wrap around them.


	47. HOME again

A door is slowly opened.

"Hello, Chara. You awake? I made us some tea."

The porcelain cup is put down next to the bed. The smell is bland.

"Chara, don't do this again," an uneasy chuckle tries, but fails to hide the worry in the voice. "It didn't go so well the last time, remember? And now the monsters are free since I broke the barrier, so there’s no need for you to die again. I helped, like I said I would. I’m a big kid now, I saved the monsters, and set us all free. But then I cried again, like I always do."

No answer.

"And big kids don’t cry. Right, Chara? Big kids save the Underground and are loved by all. I just need to love them back, that’s all. Maybe with your help I can again, because right now I can’t face them again. I’m Flowey, and for Flowey it is kill or be killed. Only Asriel gets the hugs. He’s the one people should remember, not me. But you’re here now, so things might turn out for the better.”

There’s just quiet.,

“Please wake up, Chara. I miss you. I’ve missed you so much. Everyday since I woke up like this stupid flower! Everyday since I became Flowey, the flower. I know why you’re here, but I can’t be Asriel again, not without you. Best friends forever, it’s what we promised. Can’t have one without the other. So wake up!"

The vine is retracted quickly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to touch you there. Let me get you some new bandages, yours are all bloody."

The door is slowly closed.

"Chara? It's me again. Just checking in on you. It’s so nice seeing you again, even though you’re not you. To be fair, I’m not me neither, not anymore, again.”

There’s an awkward cough.

“You can wake up now, you know? No need to be still anymore. Maybe you can..."

A long pause fills the room.

"I was about to say that maybe you could just reset, but I don’t know if I want you to do it, or if you can."

Blood drops hit the floor as they’re shaken off a vine.

“Are you bleeding again? I’ll get some more bandages. You want some tea as well?”

No answer.

“Just bandages then.”

The door is left open.

“So Frisk is all alone now? I wonder how it feels for them, it’s been awhile since they were alone. Speaking of which, how does it feel for you? Or are you doing what you did with Frisk? Will the other soul try to rebel? Can you keep them under control? Like what Frisk did with, um, you.”

No answer.

“If you are alone, do you still have the other’s soul around somewhere? And can I use it?”

The silence is deafening.

“It’s fine, I guess we’ll have get me another one. You’re pale, I’ll fetch you some water.”

With a gentle stem the head is lifted and the water is poured gently into the mouth. The head is tilted back and the water runs down the throat.

“I’ll see if I can get you something to eat as well.”

The table squeaks as it’s pushed over the wooden floor.

“I made you some soup, hope you like it. There’s some pie in the fridge, but I’m gonna save it until you wake up. We’ll eat it together.”

The head is lifted again, and the hot soup is poured just like the water.

“The pie is fresh, I promise.” A guilty chuckle accompanies the sound of the plate being placed back on the table. “I kinda tasted it. She’s still a good cook.”

“My child,” says Toriel’s voice carefully, “wake up. I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe, young one. Please come back to me.”

Her voice fades.

“Sorry, you didn’t need that.”

Silence hangs in the air for a long while.

“I should probably do the dishes. I’ll be back soon, Chara.”

The plate is removed from the table.

"Chara, can you hear me? Who is this, by the way?"

The vine is jerked back again.

"Sorry, didn't mean to touch you there, again. Though maybe I did, just a little bit. You see, I remember seeing your body before, in a previous timeline. I remember something about me fighting them, and almost killing them if it wasn’t for him and his fireball. Just looking at it makes me want to smack them across the face. I won’t do it since I know it’s you now, but who was it before? Now that I think about it, they look a lot like you.”

The water in the bucket turns red as the cloth is cleaned.

“They even have those blushes of yours.”

The red water splashes onto the floor as the heavy rag is dropped in sudden realization.

“Is it your twin? Oh no, I almost killed them! I’m so sorry, Chara, I didn’t know. Had I known that it was your twin I would’ve...”

A deep sigh emerges.

“Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done differently. Just looking at them I want to punch them. I see a big idiot who didn’t do anything good. Just came to the Underground to die. I see...”

The petals flop violently as they’re shaken in anger.

“No, I wasn’t about to say ‘you’. I promise! I will get over it once you wake up. Once you talk to me I’ll know it’s you. So just do it, for me?”

No answer.

“The floor is wet. I’m gonna get something to clean it up with so that you don’t slip when you wake up. There’s outta be a mop somewhere. I think I saw it resting on the fridge before.”

The sound of a wooden stick bouncing on tiled floor is followed by a pleased shout.

“Found it! Let’s see, how can I do this without looking like an idiot?”

The wet mop splats and slops around with an accompanying whistle.

“You know, it should’ve been obvious for me that it was you when I healed you. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. You should’ve said something before I... Oh, yeah, I forgot. Sorry for attacking you and Frisk. I was kinda feeling my love melt away. It’s very scary, gotta say. It’s like everything you feel and are is being ripped out of your grasp. You scream for help, even though you know that it’s in vain. It hurts, everything hurts. No one can help you, not unless they have a spare soul handy.”

The irregular sploshing of the mop stops.

“You cry, and then suddenly you don’t. You don’t know how anymore. You know that you just cried, but the concept isn’t there for you anymore. It’s just nothing, and you can’t feel that there was something there to begin with either. Happiness too, same story. You know that you felt it, and you know that you liked it, whatever that means, and that you want more of it, or at least you think you do. But again, you can’t think of it, no matter how hard you try. There’s not even a desire for it, but there’s a desire for it to be a desire. Though that desire you can’t feel because the void is all you know and feel.”

After a long and silent minute the mop starts moving again.

“So yeah, sorry for attacking you. Speaking of Frisk, they could’ve said something as well. Unless you slipped out without them knowing. Ha! What if they still think you’re inside them? Poor kid, not knowing that they’re free.”

Flowey coughs.

“I mean, free from you showing them the way. Now they’re allowed to be the idiot that they really are.”

His unsteady laughter trails off.

“Pure innocent angel Frisk, so good they literally killed a god with kindness. I’d ask them to say a few words about it, but more often than not it’s impossible to get even a single sound out of them. I think I got most of the blood off the floor now. I’ll be back soon.”

The mop handle hits the door frame as it’s brought out of the room.

“Who was it that killed all the monsters, Chara? Was it you, or was it Frisk? I mean, you were the one that sliced up the humans back in your village, even your twin. I thought it would make you stop, but I guess our plan was larger than your twin. They seem to have made a full recover which is lucky for you. Although, aren’t they a g-”

A loud crash stops Flowey mid sentence.

“It was just another rock falling down. Hopefully the ceiling will hold. By the way, it was a very cool battle you had with Sans. Went a bit better than last time.”

Worried laughter fills the room.

“W-when you met me there, before Sans, you didn’t really mean what you said, right? It was clearly you, I could see it in that creepy smile you did. I-I was still useful to you. I would’ve followed you and helped you wherever and with whatever you asked me to, because we’re best friends. You wouldn’t hurt me? Right?”

No answer.

“I helped you with the puzzles, I was always by your side. Nothing I did stopped you from becoming strong! I would never stand in your way, Chara. I would never-”

A scared gasp from Flowey stops him.

“That one doesn’t count! I didn’t do it to hinder you! I was just so glad to finally see you again, that’s all. You just did that as a joke. It just took some time for it to set in. I can laugh at it now, see?”

The laughter is filled with fear despite Flowey’s best attempts at hiding it.

“No, I didn’t mean to. I-I just...”

The door is slammed shut.

“Chara! Wake up! I’ve done so much for you, now it’s your turn to do something for me. Wake up! Talk to me! I’ve done everything for you, I don’t deserve this silence. I helped. Thank me for it!”

No answer.

“It’s not fair, I’ve waited for an eternity, and now that you finally come back you scare me by lying still like you did with the buttercups. Your awful idea is why we’re like this! You bullied me into accepting. Why do you have to do this to me again? It’s not funny anymore, it was never funny!”

The body is shaken with a pair of furious vines and the head rocks back and forth violently.

“Wake up and tell me that you were just joking back there, I’ve earned that much! I did everything you told me to, and now it’s time for you to listen to me! I want you to wake up and say that you’re sorry! I want you to say that you’re sorry for everything! For every second of me having this useless form! For every memory I have of you looking at me with nothing but contempt and kill crazy! I hate you! You’re the reason I’m this pathetic flower! You’re the reason everything happened! You hurt everyone with no remorse or care in the world! I hate you, Chara!”

The body bounces heavily on the bed as it lands.

“Frisk showed me that you don’t have to kill to get what you want. You don’t have to kill to save everyone. So why didn’t you do it, Chara? Why did you want to kill to begin with? Why did you want to kill me? In fact, why don’t I kill you? That way you can get a taste of your own medicine.”

No answer.

“Why isn’t your soul out? Where is it? Talk to me! I deserve an answer!”

No answer.

The door is slammed shut and desperate crying echoes through the house.

The door creaks as it’s opened slowly.

“Chara? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Well, yes, yes I did. I want to be with you again, even though I shouldn’t. You’re no good for me, but I care about you more than anybody else! I don’t know anymore. Well, I kinda do. Frisk has opened my eyes to what you really are. Chara, you’re not a good person. But neither am I, so maybe we belong together. Maybe we can do us better though now that we have the chance? We can move away, hide in the Underground until we figure out how to save me. We’ll wait until there’s a monster city on the Surface so that you don’t have to be near any humans. Then we can together again, like we promised to be. We’ll never speak of what happened before Frisk and just live happily. Our best ending, together.”

Flowey scoffs.

“What am I saying? We can’t do it alone. Creatures like us, we need help if we are to survive in this new world. Hey, what if we ask Frisk to help us? Do you think they would? Without you in them they’re...”

He sighs.

“In any case you have to be there with me. We can’t do this on our own, we have to be together to do it. You and me Chara, together. So wake up, for both of us.”

No answer.

“Chara, can I ask you one last question? How did it feel for you when you died? I remember everything that happened before. How you laid just as still as you are now. The worry we all felt as you grew weaker and weaker. Your pale face. It’s the same you have now. And your soul, outside your body. There’s no soul outside you now,” Flowey takes a very unstable breath, “because you don’t have one. I’ve done everything I can think of, but I can’t get to your soul, Chara.”

Tears crash on the bloody sweater.

“I couldn’t save you! I promised you again, and I failed you! I’m weak! I’m pathetic! I was so close. We could have fixed us together, but I’m too weak. I’m just Flowey. If I was Asriel, maybe. But not as Flowey, not as me.”

The loud sobs seem to never stop.

“Chara? Can you make me a promise for once? Don’t disappear from me again. I’ll talk with Frisk, ask them to reset. Though I don’t think they can, not without you. Wait, I’ll ask them to help me become Asriel again. If that works then bringing you back will be easy. I’ll go to the Surface, but I’ll come back to take care of you. Sound good?”

No answer.

“Just tell me that it’s a good idea.”

No answer.

“Just tell me that you’re not dead.”

No answer.

“I need you.”

No answer.

“Frisk will help us, I promise. They’re good like that. They won’t turn their back away because you tried to kill them. They want to help everyone, even me. They hugged me. They didn’t even know me and they hugged me. Forgiving the one that always stood in their way. They’re not like you, Chara. They didn’t want to save the monsters because they hate. They saved them because they’re good. Because they broke free from you. And perhaps, for me to be saved, I have to break free from you.”

No answer.

“I care about you, Chara. I care about you more than anybody else in this world.”

No answer.

“But seeing everything that has happened without you, and with you, I think it might be better if you stayed here.”

No answer.

“Goodbye, Chara.”

The door is closed.


	48. Flower on the run

Pained groans is forced out of the human. With great effort they blink away the sticky eyelids until their eyes acclimate to seeing light after a long time of darkness. It takes some time for their eyes to focus, and as they look around with their hazy vision they notice that they’re in a bed that's a bit too small for them. Their knees creek and pop as the human stretches them out. They move a hand to try and brace themselves for standing up, but as soon as they put weight on it screams in refusal. Sharp pain rushes up their arm and they flop back down on the bed. They feel pressure on their side as they fall. They run their other hand against it and feel something warm leak.

Blood. Fresh. Not good.

They brace with their other hand to try and get a better view. Yup, they're bleeding. They grab the loose bandage and pull on it hard. Unsteady breathing echoes around the room as the human tries to control the pain. With a hard tug they wrap it tightly around their midriff. They hold their hand on it for a minute. It seems to have controlled the bleeding, for now. They sit on the edge of the bed for a while. Slowly they run their hand on their back until they find a corner of fabric. They pull it off slowly. Their hair doesn’t part as they run their healthy hand through it.

“What happened?”

The human carefully puts weights on their legs, and after some easing, they finally manage to stand up, but they’re unstable. Their legs are weak, and they feel like they haven’t eaten in ages. That’s priority one, get some water and food.

Their hand leaves red marks as they take strain on the hallway wall. Every step hurts, but they have to stay determined. They know there’s has to be a kitchen here somewhere. They’re sure they heard it be mentioned. Someone did, but who?

The wooden floor in front of the human is discolored with a red hue, like a trail. Is it their blood? How much have they lost? They look down on themselves, but they can’t figure out an exact amount. The only thing they see is that it’s a lot, and it’s dried. They must’ve been out for a very long time. How did they get there? Who helped them? And where are they now?

They shake their head, questions for later. Right now they need to get some water. Their head is thumping and their throat feels like it’s made out of pebbles and sand. It hurts to swallow.

“Yes!” the human exclaims as they enter the kitchen. They hobble towards the faucet and slam it open. The water sprouts out violently and the human dives underneath it and drinks greedily. It hurts a lot to drink, but they push the pain away in their mind. The stop only to breathe before they drink more. With every mouthful they feel their head getting clearer and their body waking up.

They hear their stomach screaming for food. Eat, they gotta eat. But what? Wait, pie, there’s pie in the fridge. They know it, somehow. With their functioning hand they throw open the fridge. Their mouth waters as they spot, underneath a glass container, a pie with a piece missing. The human devours the pie in seconds and then sinks down on the tiled floor. They might’ve eaten a bit too fast, they feel a bit nauseous.

They catch their breath and look around. There’s blood everywhere they’ve been. The faucet, the fridge, the floor. They look down on themselves and only now realize how bad they smell. They rip off their sweater and it lands heavily on the floor. The stripes have been colored dark red.

Again they approach the faucet, but this time they let the cold water rinse over their head. They see the water become red as it pours all around them. As they scratch their hair to get the last drop out they recoil as they disturb a large bump. It’s sore, and the human clenches their teeth. Damn, that hurt.

The cold water is negligible as they rinse their body. They don’t care that they stain the floor below them either. They just want to get this blood off of them. After some breathing to prepare for the pain they rip off the bandage again. Their grunt fills the house, but it seems like the bleeding has stopped. How though? Was it the pie? Is it magic?

They look at their reflection in the water and as they notice that their eyes are red they feel their stomach turn. They throw up in the sink and the red from their blood mixes with the discolored sludge from their determination. Some poorly chewed pieces circle around the drain before disappearing down.

They spit. Yup, it was magical alright. With a careful hand the human feels the wound on the side. It seems to have closed a bit so at least the pie managed to heal them before rushing back up again.

Is there anything in the fridge that isn’t made from magic? Doesn’t seem like it, if they know Toriel’s cooking well. Their stomach rumbles again, and even more loudly than before. The human opens the cupboards and spot an opened package of powdered soup. They sigh in relief.

“OK,” they say to themselves as they sit down on the wooden chair in the living room. They turn around and move to the felted chair instead, “let’s see if we can figure this out.”

The soup warms very nicely and seeing that it’s made by humans it should stay inside them. They inspect their injured hand and touch it carefully. It’s broken, dammit.

They try to encourage themselves, “At least I’m alive,” but it fails. Carefully they lay down their arm on the chair and continue eating.

After a couple more servings they lean back in the chair. They will probably need to clean their wound again, but they need to relax themselves to figure out what happened.

The human lists the last things they can remember. “New home, Mettaton, Radentim, Hotland, One and Two, Lab, True Lab.” They feel their shoulders sink. “Sans, and then...” They lean their head in their hand and massages their forehead, being careful with the bulge. “And then? There was a voice? Someone was here with me, I’m sure of it.”

The human sighs through their lips. It was someone they know, they’re sure of it. Someone important.

They snap their fingers, “Flowey! He was here!” and look around. “Dammit, I missed him. So close! Why couldn’t I wake up in time?”

The human grabs the armrest and stands up. Some felt follows on their wound and they rinse it off in the kitchen. They clean their plate and put it to dry next to the others. Flowey said that he wanted to try and get help from Frisk to become Asriel again. They just have to catch up with him to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. Although, he did sound a bit hesitant towards them before he left.

What to wear though? The human needs to travel through Snowdin, and they don’t have a shirt. The human looks down, not in these pants either, they’re just as bloody. Gotta be some other clothing somewhere here.

It’s a bit easier to walk now, but the human still take strain against the wall. They enter the room they were in. They cover their face as the smell hits them. It smells horrible. How long were they in here? Too long, judging from the smell. They open the wardrobe with their knee, they don’t want to remove their arm from their mouth. The clothes in the wardrobe are far too small for them. They sigh and leave the room quickly before breathing in again. What about the other room further down? Must be Toriel’s.

The human pokes their nose in. No stench of death. They breath out in relief. The room is a bit larger than the one they were in. Same story for the bed up against the wall. The human opens the drawer and averts their eyes. They peek, and to their relief it was only socks. They close that and open the one underneath.

It’s filled with large robes. Perfect. They have the Delta Rune on them though. Not perfect. Can’t risk the monsters putting two and two together, not with how they look right now. Prancing around with the insignia of the royal family will just stir up questions, and they don’t need any right now.

The robe spreads out on the floor beneath them. The neck hole exposes their shoulders as well and the sleeves hangs limp, like their other arm. It’s a bit thin though, not enough for Snowdin. Maybe a second layer?

The robes hang heavy, and walking is again difficult because of the amount of fabric they have to keep in mind around their legs and feet. Their pants and shoes are covered though, so at least they can keep those. The Delta Rune is visible, but they couldn’t figure out how to cover it. As they put a hand on the wooden railing leading down to the basement they take a glimpse at the door. Flowey could still be at the grave. They should probably check there first.

The tree outside gives the human an idea. They reach for a low hanging branch and break it off. It helps immensely in their walking and they feel their spirit raise a bit.

The tapping of their walking stick is the only sound accompanying them as they make their way back. It’s rhythmical almost. A bit too rhythmical. They stop, but the tapping continues. The human looks around. “Flowey?”

“Could you walk again?” asks a voice. “The rhythm was good, but if you don’t wan to, I understand. In fact, let me just leave you alone. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“I wasn’t disturbed. Have you seen a flower walking by?”

No answer.

“Hello?”

Still no answer. The human shakes their head in annoyance and continues.

The way is a bit different than the human remembers, did they take a wrong turn somewhere? They come across some sharp spikes in the ground.

They whistle for the rock on the other side. “What?” it answers with a yawn.

“Can you get on the plate?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It doesn’t move.

“Please?”

“Oh, you meant now?”

“Yes!”

“No need to yell, I’m moving.”

The plate settles with a loud lick and the spikes retracts down into the ground. The stone hawks as the human passes. “Glad to help.”

“Thanks,” the human responds despite not meaning it in the slightest.

Strange, they don’t see any traces of blood anywhere. How did Flowey get them to the house? If he dragged them, did the blood dry up? How long were they in that bed? If that’s the case he must be halfway to Asriel by now. Still, gotta make sure.

The spike bridge is easily solved as the human pokes ahead with their walking stick. The door proves a bit hard to open though. The human leans on it and as they do small stone land on their head. They take a step back and a rock the size of their fist crashes down in front of them.

The ground is littered with debris. “Flowey!” the human calls out. “Are you here? We’ll go to the Surface together, it will be better that way!” It’s quiet. The human observes the area, maybe they can spot him.

They spot something alright, but it isn’t Flowey. Carefully they navigate through the stones and boulders. They see the one they hit their head on, it’s surrounded by larger rocks. The blood is dried. Dammit, they’ve were out for some time. The human turns around and almost trip as their stick gets caught up in something. They catch their footing and dust is thrown in the air. The human looks down.

A blue jacket lies empty underneath a boulder right next to the one they hit their head on. Dust is spread out around it, and on the boulder. The human grabs it and tugs on it, but the hoodie is stuck. They twist it around and tug again. The hoodie is ripped off and the human stumbles back. They lean against a boulder with the jacket in hand. Various stains covers it. The human turns it around and sticks their arms into it. They zip it and to their delight it covers the insignia on their robe.

They don’t know what words to say, so they simply turn on their heels. They put their injured arm into the pocket. It touches something metallic. They remove the injured arm with their functioning one and lift up a locket. It’s theirs. The human feels their neck. No locket there. How did he grab it? During the shortcut? And why?

The human hangs the locket around their neck again. Not like he can answer them now. Need to focus on the people alive. He knew the risks, even though they weren’t for him. The human closes the large doors behind them.

Their breath forms vapor as they walk down the long corridor under Toriel’s house. Another set of double doors are askew and the human squeezes through. The snow underneath them crunches with a pleasant sound as they walk through it. It was a good idea that they chose to wear Sans’ jacket, they’re freezing underneath and over it. As long as it covers their torso and back it should be enough for the trip to Snowdin. They pull the robe up over their mouth and nose though. They know they’re being watched, they can even spot the cameras around them since they looked through them when they were in the Lab. Last thing they need is for people to recognize them and ask questions.

The human passes a guard station. It’s unmanned, and will remain so. They readjusts his jacket.

“Ice day for a walk?”

The human ignores the pun.

“Come on, chill out. Why in such a rush?”

“I’m busy,” the human says firmly. “I have places to be.”

“Please, I need to practice for my tour on the Surface,” the monster pleads.

“Then why are you here in the most desolate of places?”

The human curses their tongue. Why did they engage in conversation?

The monster rushes up to them from the side of the road and joins the human in their walk. “You see, since my specialty is snow jokes I seek inspiration here. Makes my puns more,” the pause for effect and the smug smile doesn’t sit well with the human, ”cool.”

“Yes,” the human fakes a smile, “very. Listen, did you see a flower go through here?”

“Icently?”

The human bites their lip. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Think?”

“I don’t know, maybe I had a brain freeze.”

That’s it. The human slams their stick on a bell sitting on the next guard station’s desk. It rings loudly.

A dog stands up very sneakily and with eyes darting back and forth. “Who’s there? Move so I can see you. Also,” the dog picks up a paper after some searching. He shakes it in front of his face, “if this is about a human sighting, we don’t take those anymore. Unless,” the dog extends a finger, “you see one walking alone. A large group are touring the Underground with Asgore, important humans. If you see one of those you can report to us. But a human that’s not important is to be ignored. Unless they’re not with the group, in which case you should report to us since they’re not supposed to be in the Underground. Is that clear?.” The dog nods. “Signed, Undyne.” The dog returns the paper under his desk. “So, what brings you here?” He narrows his eyes. “Whoever you are? Please move.”

The human stares at the dog, baffled.

The dog growls, “If this is a prank,” and taps angrily on the desk, ”I swear.”

The human clears their throat. “I caught this young monster vandalizing,” they lie as they push the monster next to them forward with their feet.

The dog raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

The drake shakes its head. “No, I’m innicent.”

“Please take them to their parents,” the human insists.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m the guard here, and I’m-”

The human interrupts with a hand on the dog’s head. They pet the dog and its tail starts waggling. After some scratches behind the dog’s ear it moans sadly for more. “You’ll get another one once you return after escorting this monster back home.”

The dog nods excitingly and grabs the protesting monster by the collar and rushes off. The human continues, alone. The sound of struggling and snow puns fades as they keep their distance.

Some cold walking later the human smacks their legs to get some warmth back into them. They pass a table with some frozen spaghetti on it. A bent fork lies next to it. Seems like someone tried to eat the spaghetti. The human shakes their head.

“Careful where you step,” informs a monster in a hard hat. “We’re reconstructing some old puzzles for the human entourage. Nothing dangerous, just don’t step on anything.”

“Why? Weren’t the puzzles here to stop the humans?”

“It’s the New Chapter manifest invoked by Asgore. Haven’t you heard? Huh, word travels slow. Anyway, we’re to turn anything that was against the humans, towards the humans. So we’re removing the danger and resetting them to work in the other direction.”

The human turns their head back. “Are they gonna travel through the Ruins?”

“No, the tour ends here after the puzzles.” The monster leans over her spade. “Between you and me, I reckon Queen Toriel had a say in the matter.”

The human nods. “Could be.”

“Well, I outta get back to it. The humans are gonna be here any minute now. Please don’t step on any puzzles.”

The human continues for a couple of step before stopping and turning around. “Um, excuse me?”

The worker looks up from her tinkering. “Yes?”

“There’s a puzzle after this bridge.”

“Yes?”

“And I need to go through it.”

“Yes?”

“But you said I weren’t to step on any puzzles.”

“Yes?”

“So, how am I to pass?”

“Isn’t he there?” The monster looks at the watch on one of her many arms. “Oh, he’s on lunch now, but he should be back any minute.”

“Who?”

“Yes.”

The monster returns to her work.

A couple of cold minutes later a small bird in an orange vest lands in front of the human. “Hi, I’m Woh. You need to get over the puzzles?”

The human nods and the bird grabs them by the head with its tiny talons. It hums a very energetic melody as it flies over the puzzle. “There we go,” it says with pride as it puts down the human on the other side. “Just be careful with the next one.”

It flies off to its coworker and the human just shakes their head. They slide over the next puzzle through some trees and finally end up in Snowdin.

Their stomach rumbles and they wonder if it’s worth to risk a meal at Grillby’s. They don’t have any money though, so even if-

“And here we have Snowdin,” echoes a proud and deep voice, “this is the last settlement we will be visiting today, but we have something interesting to show you at the end of it.”

Asgore, and he’s with the human group. Dammit!

The doors to Grillby’s is slammed behind the human and they walk quickly up to the bar.

The warmth of the bartender surrounds both him and the human as he walks up. “Burger and a soda,” the human asks. They tug at their jacket. “Sans told me to put it on his tab.”

Grillby raises a flaming eyebrow from behind his glasses. The human shows the various condiment spots on Sans jacket until Grillby nods and puts up a burning hand to stop the human. He leaves for the kitchen.

“So, Jimmy,” asks a dog to a large and dark wolf opposite them in a booth, “you sad about them shutting down the CORE?”

“A bit, but I got these sweet pants,” the wolf admits, “so I’m not that down.”

“Are you the one that throws the ice blocks into the river?” the human asks.

“Yeah!” nods Jimmy.

“Sorry for asking, but couldn’t you just extend the conveyor belt?”

The wolf raises a finger to protest, but it’s lowered as his face sinks deep in thought. “Yeah,” he says with his eyebrows furrowed, “why didn’t we just do that?”

“I mean, then it wouldn’t be a job? You wouldn’t have one,” wonders the dog next to him.

The wolf shakes his head.

“Could be why,” the human suggests.

“Yeah.”

The door is opened carefully. “But before we do all that, why don’t we enjoy some food? I know it might be a bit different than the restaurant at MTT Resort, but I assure you that Grillby has that name for a reason.”

A large hand is placed on the human’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but,” Asgore stops mid sentence as he feels the material between his fingers, “where did you get this robe from?”

Grillby returns with the burger and the drink.

“Where did you get this robe?” Asgore asks again, this time sternly.

The human sips some soda. Yup, definitely magical.

Oh boy.


	49. The queen's old clothes

"King Asgore? Is something the matter?" asks a human delegate from across the now crowded tavern.

His hand stays on the robe as he turns his head. "Apologies, it seems like there's been a bit of a misunderstanding. I’m gonna have a talk with this monster here.”

The human tries to move, but the hand squeezes their shoulder very tightly. They’re not going anywhere.

“Feel free to order whatever you like from our bartender, Grillby. Pardon me, I’ll join you again shortly.”

The fire monster motions for an empty booth. The human group seat themselves and smile as Grillby takes a bow with the menus. The group is hesitant to take them, but as they feel that the menus aren’t warmer than they’re used to they thank the monster. Asgore motions for the door, but the human refuses to leave. He smiles warmly and with a subtle tug the human is convinced to dismount their chair.

“Let’s take a look at those puzzles you mentioned,” Asgore suggest loudly so that the human group knows he has the situation under control. “How are the kids, by the way?” A second passes. “That’s wonderful to hear,” he says without an answer. “I’ll make sure to send them an autograph from Undyne.”

Asgore closes the door behind him and takes the human to the back of the bar. “I’m gonna ask you again,” he informs calmly, but still with a huge scoop of authority lingering, “where did you get these robes?”

The human looks away. “I found them,” they answer.

“That much I could guess,” Asgore kneels down to their level, his hand still holding the human in place, “but where? Be specific.” His grasp hardens.

The human feels his fingers rubbing against the texture of the robe. Why is he being this nosy? Can’t he just get over Toriel? Old and pathetic, that’s what he is. Wait, what are they thinking? Oh no, the soda! Their curse is getting a hold on them. The human shakes their head. Get these thoughts out!

Asgore grips the human’s chin and holds their head still. “Where did you find these robes?” he asks sternly. The human notices a faint snarl in his voice.

The faint red color of their eyes reflect in Asgore’s eyes. They force away the thoughts manifested by their curse and focus on their words. “I found them in the Garbage Dump,” they try to lie.

Asgore wrinkles his nose, but he seems to be in odds to what he’s smelling. He removes his hand from the chin and looks down. “Forgive me,” he asks with a deep sigh. “I‘ve made a mistake. I suspected you took them from Toriel. These are hers, I’ve no doubt, but the horrific smell coming off them isn’t hers. They smell like something from the Garbage Dump, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“Allow me to reimburse you for me jumping to conclusions. Come by the castle any day and I’ll have you pick out a new outfit in exchange for these. It’s only to make sure this won’t happen again, I assure you. Same material as well, if you like.”

Asgore’s hand loosens from the human’s shoulder and he sighs again with it pressed against his forehead. “Why would she throw these out?” he asks himself. “Anyway, please forgive me, it was wrong to treat one of my subjects this way.”

“Don’t worry, my king,” the human answers back with their voice masked and muffled by the robe over their mouth. They want to say a whole lot of things right now, but they have to stay focused. “I forgive you.”

The king nods weakly. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

The human feels their stomach rumble in protest. They need to get Asgore out of here. “You should probably make sure that the humans are treated well,” they suggests with a smile that they feel is a bit too eagerly. It's hidden behind the robe over their mouth, so the effect is all but guess.

“I’ve no doubt Grillby will be warm to them.”

The human’s eyes widen. If it’s because of the pun or their failed attempt to get Asgore out of there, they don’t know.

“But you’re right, I should get back to them.” Asgore takes out a notebook and pen. He scribbles down something and finishes off with a complex flair of his hand. “Show this to the castle guard, and they’ll send for me.”

The human nods and takes the card quickly. They don’t bother reading it and just shoves it into their pocket. It sticks to a spot of mustard.

Asgore bows his head. “Again, thank you for understanding.”

The human bows as well. “My king.”

Asgore’s robe is swung widely as he swirls around and it’s dragged in the snow. The sound of awes and applause is heard for a bit before it becomes quiet again. The human takes the opportunity to throw up next to a pine tree. It’s not much, but Asgore would definitely have questioned it. The horrid taste lingers in their mouth. They cover the puddle with some snow and head out again.

Thick fog covers their vision, and they are forced to navigate by the sound of rushing water in front of them. Coming from bright snow to a dark cavern isn’t really helping with visibility either, but the human’s eyes acclimate after a while. Glowing crystals illuminate from the walls, floor, and ceiling. Wide walls of water fall around them, and standing just right, they see rainbows created by the crystals and the water. It’s nice.

Another empty guard station makes the human aware of the jacket they’re wearing. It seems heavier on their shoulder. They unzip it now that they’ve left Snowdin. It’s still a bit chilly, but it’s not cold enough to warrant this thick of a layer. Besides, it’s only gonna get warmer after this.

“Next up is Snowdin,” an Echo flower explains with Assgore’s voice. “Thank you. Here, for your warmth.” The sound of fabric rustling replaces Asgore’s voice for a minute. “Now, Snowdin was first founded after,” his voice trails off as the human continues walking.

They cross a bridge covering a stream carrying a large amount of rocks. Judging by the quiet crashes far below they must be falling for quite a while. Now that they think about it, how deep is the hole? If the rocks fall constantly, shouldn’t they pile up? The human looks over the edge, but they only see the rocks fall into the abyss. Dammit, focus. Just keep walking.

Their ground below them turns softer, and as the human looks down they see that it’s a patch of cut grass. It’s cut very thinly. By Undyne perhaps? Could be Asgore as well. Or just a monster in general.

They walk over some glowing flowers floating on groups of water. They pass a couple before catching themselves not questioning it. The situation feels normal for them. If that’s a good or bad thing to feel they’re not sure of. Whatever, just keep walking.

“My deepest apologies for that, the monster sends his apologies as well. Did you spot some of the constellations I described?” asks an Echo flower, again sounding like Asgore. “Yes,” it answers with another voice. “I managed to find the Delta Rune,” the flower says with an impressed tone. “Splendid,” comes Asgore’s voice again. “Shall we continue?”

“You’re trying my patience here, Jerry,” whispers another Echo flower a couple of steps away with a snarl. “Why aren’t you at your post?” The flower scoffs. “So, like, why would I listen to you? We’re free now. I don’t care at all what you have to say, my ex king.” The voice is grating and abhorrent. Sounds like someone you would ditch immediately. “I go where I want, when I want. In fact, I want to go to the humans and kick them in the shin. What are you gonna do about that?”

The flower breathes slowly. “Jerry,” Asgore speaks again. The disdain and annoyance in his voice makes it seem like the Echo flower is withering. “Go back to your post.” The flower scoffs again. “No,” the other monster voice says smugly and with an underlying tone of wrongly appointed self superiority as loud as the volume of distaste it spouts through the Echo flower. The sound of it makes the human stop in their step and images of them throwing the monster off Mt. Ebott fills their head. They smile at the thought.

Damn, their curse is resurfacing. The human leans in with their eye close to a crystal, but their eyes aren’t red. It’s no their curse producing these thoughts, it’s them. Strange, but judging by the things the monster has said, it seems to be normal. It’s clear that the monster Asgore is talking to is akin to an entire tree under his fingernail. Claw, whatever. Asgore is not angry by nature, so this must be someone he also dreads to interact with. Never before has the human heard Asgore’s voice be this sour and bitter.

“No, I won’t go back. Now move it, I’m gonna kick some shins,” the flower informs. A small huff follows. “This is for the future of the monsters, Jerry,” Asgore again snarls. He’s struggling to keep his voice down. “I’m giving you one last chance to get back to your post. Otherwise I’m gonna let Undyne come up with the most creative punishment she can.”

There’s a second of silent.

“I-I,” the annoying voice stammers, “I forgot something at my post, I’m not following your orders.”

The human indulges in the fear that the voice has. It feels good.

“Serene, wasn’t it? As you may have guessed by now, I’ve showed you the scenic route through the Underground. We will take a more suitable route on the way back. Just a couple of corners left and we’ll arrive at our final section of the Underground. I’ve also planned something a bit special that I hope that you will all enjoy,” talks a third flower, again with Asgore’s voice. “King Asgore,” the flower changes voice, “this has been a very pleasant walk through your kingdom. The history and variety of your people is breathtaking.”

The flower produces a sound of metal being moved and placed. “And that’s not all,” says Asgore's voice, “I assume that you’ve all seen the crystal formations in the cavern roof? During our time here we substituted them for the stars, and created constellations. If you look through this telescope I will point you to some.”

A large and unpleasant fart interrupts Asgore. After a stunned silence there’s an even louder belch. “You all look like a bunch of-” The annoying voice is muffled and Asgore starts speaking again. “Excuse me for just a second.”

The repeated conversations of the flower fades as the human leaves the room behind them.

The ground underneath them shifts again to creaking wood. A long bridge lies before them. It’s quiet, the water under the bridge is still. It’s a nice change from the waterfalls and the Echo flowers. Quiet, some time to think, and reflect. Prepare mentally for how to bring back Asriel. They’ve already undergone stuff to last a lifetime. More than one, even, and the human suspect more is to come. Right now they can just relax their eyes, and take in the silence around them.

“Wosh you jacket.”

The words echoes around the large room. The human scans the dark, but they can’t see where the voice came from.

“Wosh away.”

Their foot gets stuck under something and the human loses their balance. Despite their panicked flailing to recover they fall over the side of the bridge. They land with a heavy splash. Quickly they resurface and gasp for air.

Looking over the edge of the bridge is a small and smiling monster. An excited bird flaps its wings in a glass dome on its head. It nods to the human and tosses a bar of soap to them. “Cleaning, cleaning, la la la,” it sings.

The soap lands in front of the human’s face and some water gets in their eye. They swim back to the bridge and grabs the edge. The monster stomps on their hand and they fall back into the water. “Ouch! Why did you do that?"

The monster points to the bar of soap floating away. “Wosh you jacket.”

“No, help me up instead!” the human spits back.

The bird starts pecking on the glass. “Wosh. You. Jacket!” the monster growls.

The sounds of the human swimming through the once calm and still water masks their mumbling of obscenities and curses towards the monster on the bridge. At first the soap slinks away and the human is forced to take another stroke, but then they catch it. Angrily they rub the soap on the jacket, and even more angrily they wash it off in the water. A ring of bubbles and soap mixed with condiments expands around them. “Good enough?” they ask as they turn around.

“Never seen someone like you before,” wonders an old and raspy voice, “and you wear the robe of our queen.” He leans on his walking stick and narrows his eyes at the strange creature in the water surrounded by soap. “Pray tell, who are you?”

“If you help me up I’ll tell you.”

Gerson shakes his head. “No, that’s fine, I can hear you from where you are.” He points with his stick. “You missed a spot as well. Right, Woshua?”

Woshua agrees with a nod.

“And if this melon of mine serves me correctly, and before you say anything, no, it hasn’t failed me yet, despite my age, I’m pretty sure all your splashing and mumbling might have woken the one sleeping below.”

The human looks down into the water. It’s black as the void, they can barely see their body. ”Sleeping?”

“And you haven’t heard of the one sleeping below?” Gerson strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Peculiar. The one below is one of the most feared monsters in the Underground.”

The human stops moving, and the ripples from their strokes fades. “You’re lying.”

“Yet you still thought it would be a good idea to stop moving.” Gerson nods. “I agree, but it’s probably too late now.”

The water is again disturbed as the human swims as fast as their fear can. “Help me up!”

“Tell me who you are.”

“Just give me your goddamn hand!”

The old turtle puts his hand behind him. “My back is hurting a bit.”

Large bubbles start oozing up from the depths behind the human. They feel something move below them. Something is coming up!

“I’m a human!” they scream and reach up with their hand.

Gerson grabs it. “See, wasn’t that hard now was it?”

The human rolls up on the wooden bridge a second before long and thick tentacles bursts violently from the water. An enormous head follows and it breathes in heavily.

“Humans are here, wonderful day. Humans for us, wonderful me,” it starts singing completely out of tone.

“Greetings, Onionsan,” smiles Gerson. “I afraid I have some bad news for you, you missed the group.”

The large smile sinks into a frown. “I did?”

“Luckily I found this one that’s overwhelmed with happiness to hear your singing. You’ve made enormous progress these last days. It’s just a matter of time before Mettaton, or the entire Surface for that matter, will be begging for you to sing.”

The enormous yellow monster’s face shines up again. “You think?”

Gerson adjusts his glasses. “I know. For that though you must continue practice. You promise me that, Onionsan?”

The monster nods with glee and sinks back down below the surface. Gurgled singing can be heard as it travels deeper, but eventually the room becomes quiet again, and the water still.

Gerson turns to the human and hits them gently with his stick. “Come, you can explain yourself over tea.”


	50. Lemon scented lies

Gerson motions for the same seat he did the last time the human visited. "How do you like your tea?” he asks as he tip toes around piles of old memorabilia. “And try to keep your fingers to yourself."

The human takes the seat they were offered. A towel is tossed from the kitchen and they catch it. Following it is a hoodie covered in stars and Mettaton’s face along with a pair of trousers with similar colors. A pair of shoes are placed gently on the pile.

“Her robes stay here,” Gerson inform as he points to a pair of curtains. “Dry yourself and switch them out.”

As the human makes their way around the piles of stuff inside Gerson’s shop they remember, “Actually, I have this note saying,” and reach into their pocket, but the note is destroyed from the bath they had.

“Yes?” Gerson’s head asks as it furrows its brow at the human from the kitchen.

“Nevermind,” the human sighs and pulls the curtains around them. The clothes fit rather loosely, but they would take these over what Alphys gave them any day.

The smell of hot Golden Flower tea hits their nose as they pull the curtains back. They keep the towel around their face and the hoodie up just in case. Locket in their pocket, and their broken hand as nonchalantly as possible at their side. It still hurts a lot.

“So,” Gerson starts as he pours the human a cup, “how and why did you steal Toriel’s robes?”

“If I were just to go, what would stop me?”

Gerson dries off some drops that spilled on his table. “Nothing would stop you from leaving, but you wouldn’t get far. The Royal Guard would be on you at the snap of my finger. They’re on high alert because of the human delegates touring the land.”

The human shrugs. “I made it this far.”

With a smile Gerson snaps his fingers. Not a second later a small group of armored guards salute outside his hole, completely blocking any light from entering. Gerson pokes a mushroom on his ceiling to light up the dark the guards summoned. “Could you please ask Onionsan to go back to their water?” he asks the dogs at his door. He throws a thumb towards the human. “Scared my friend here.”

The guards nod in sync and disappear as quickly as they came. Gerson takes a sip of tea. “So, where did you find the robes?”

The human sits down. “I found them in the Garbage Dump,” the human retorts before realizing that they can’t drink the tea with the towel wrapped around their mouth. They ease it a bit and pour the hot tea carefully.

“Wa ha ha, I might be old and look like a turtle to you, but you can’t pull a fast one on me!” Gerson pushes his walking stick against the human’s chest. “Where?”

The human almost drops their cup. “Garbage Dump,” they repeat.

Gerson cocks his head and strokes his chin. “Has her house fallen that much into disrepair? The one in the Ruins?”

“No.”

The human sees their word exit their mouth, but they fail to catch it. Their face contorts, they screwed up.

"Dammit."

Gerson removes his walking stick with a satisfied smile. “Aha, so you were at Toriel’s house. That solves the where. Now, for the better question,” with a single finger he lifts his cup to his mouth, “why?” but sets it down again. “You know what? Why don’t I take a look for myself?”

He struggles to get up which gives the human time to get to their old clothes before him. They sit still though, running over their would only raise suspicions even further. If they’re lucky he won’t find anything.

Gerson’s moves the curtains out of the way and pokes the pile around with his stick. He mumbles for himself as he lifts up one of Toriel’s robe. “At least they cleaned it.”

“Didn’t really have a say in that matter,” the human explains.

Gerson ignores the answer. “Blood?” he instead asks out loud with the bloodied pants on the end of his stick. “Well now, isn’t this interesting.”

He rejoins the human at the table after some pained grunting. “Care to explain?”

The human shakes their head.

“Wasn’t a question, human.”

“I mean-”

With a swift strike Gerson hits the human over their head with a magnifying glass he drew from his shirt pocket. “Don’t be a smartass!”

The hit barely misses the bulge, but it still hurts like hell. “I had to get through Snowdin, and needed something to keep me warm.”

“Why were you in the Ruins to begin with, human?” Gerson leans over the table with his magnifying glass pointed against the human like a weapon. “Why are you in the Underground to begin with?”

“I,” the human lowers their head, “I fell.”

Gerson raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He scans the human’s eye to see if they’re lying. He doesn’t find anything, and sighs as he leans back again into his chair. “And here I thought that Asgore would prioritize covering up that hole.” Gerson laughs for himself. “Wa ha ha! The first thing Fluffybun did up on the Surface was apparently to stick his head up in the clouds. You need to get your priorities straight, Asgore, you silly goat. If anything it’s a good sign that he's acclimating. Right, human?”

They nod.

“Sorry to give you the scares, but seeing a rogue human walking around with Toriel’s clothing in the opposite direction of the group? It kicks the old guard mentality awake again. I agree that I might've stepped a bit out of line with the whole monster under the lake show. High alert and all that. I guess my retirement is only on paper.” Gerson hums for himself. “Anyhoo, take the clothes and tea as an apology, please?”

“Sure, thank you.”

“Appreciate it, human.” Gerson taps his fingers on his knuckles. ”I also think it would be best if you left the robes and your old clothes here. I imagine walking around all bloodstained would turn some heads on the Surface as well? Because as you can see it will happen down here as well. Or, even better, you can buy a backpack from me!” Gerson throws one up on the table. “Good quality at a reasonable price.”

The human pats themselves. “I don’t have any money with me.”

“Not even in Toriel’s robes? I see.” The backpack is knocked off the table with a disappointed hand. “Then perhaps you’d be interested in doing me a favor?”

“I’m kinda in a rush. I’m looking for someone.”

“In the Underground? Pray tell.”

“Yes and no. I don’t know where they are exactly. They could be up on the Surface for all I know.” The human hates that they have to ask. It’s risky, but it’s necessary. “Have you seen a flower walk by?”

Gerson gives his forehead a good and long scratch before shaking his head. “Sorry, kiddo, can’t say that I have.” He puts his magnifying glass over his one open eye. “And nothing gets pass this old Royal Guard without me noticing.”

“Gerson!” yells a voice from outside. A monster is smiling and waving one of its many hands. “I’ve been waving for a couple of minutes now, are you open?”

Gerson hawks before the human can say anything. “Yes, what are you lookin’ for?”

“You still have some of those notebooks?”

Gerson nods, “Wa ha ha, I have plenty. Just give me a moment,” and turns towards the human. “Third shelf to the left, would you kindly?”

There is no third shelf to the left, there’s only two. The human scratches their head. “Where was it again, Gerson?” the human wonders as they return from Gerson's storage.

“Thanks! Wa ha ha,” Gerson waves as his customer walks off with a notebook under their arm.

“Why?” asks the human with a perplexed hand.

“Because I don’t want you to get any bright ideas and start swinging around that notebook all willy nilly.”

“Undyne has trained me, so I wouldn’t really call it willy nilly.”

Gerson’s face shines up. “Really? One on one?”

“Yup, on top of Mt. Ebott as well.”

“So, the little urchin shares her craft with the humans? These are truly times of change, I can tell you that. Had you asked her the day before Frisk arrived she would’ve gladly showed you, but not with a weapon of your own to defend yourself.” Gerson nods towards a picture of him and a Undyne as a child standing toe to toe. “Good to hear that she’s getting comfortable with you humans.” His brow furrows in thought. “Although, I thought it would take longer for her. Maybe I didn’t know her as much as I thought I did. I should invite her over for some tea. Maybe then she can start cleaning up that burnt crisp of a house she has here. Ten push ups for every morning I have to wake up to the smell of coal and ash!” Gerson is taken back as he spots the human again. It’s almost like he forgot they were standing there. “Sorry, am I rambling?”

“Um...”

Gerson waves a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, no need to be snarky. Just take your clothes and leave.”

“But-”

Gerson produces a plastic bag from underneath his counter and tosses it to the human. It stops halfway in the air and flutters down on the ground. He curses under his breath as he bends over to pick it up. “There we go. Be careful out there, human. Sorry about the scare with the memory box. No hard feelings?”

The human freezes in place. Dammit, they thought they were in the clear! Just nod, don’t say anything. Take your stuff and go. Not another word, don’t feed his memory.

“You’re walking back to Hotland! Wait, didn’t you come from over there?”

Don’t answer him, just don’t. Wave, and smile.

The deafening roar of the waterfalls around them drowns out Gerson’s waving and shouting, and soon the human finds themselves in a pitch black room. The ground sounds a bit weird as well. The human squats down and picks up some shredded paper strewn on the ground. “Confetti?” they ask out loud.

Something jumps them from the dark. The human stumbles back with it in their arms. “Hoi!” it yells uncomfortably loud. “Human?”

Thick pustules starts forming on the Temmie’s face and it starts vibrating with excitement. “Bob! Is new human!”

“There’s some more humans here, M! Tem, hit the switch again!” commands a deep voice from far into the dark. The ground lights up in a mysterious cyan color. Trees flash into view like lighthouses with the same color as the ground.

As the human recovers from the light they’re approached by a large entourage of balloons and confetti. It rains over them and gets stuck in their hair. A wooden platform with two large bright red curtains is rolled up to them. There’s some whispering before the curtains are pulled apart and more confetti is shoot towards the human.

“Welcome back to another spectacular interview with the humans!”

Goddammit, it’s Mettaton.

“You thought that the first one was a fluke? That Undyne figured out my plans and managed to hold me up as the human group passed?” His grip on his microphone hardens. “To that I say, down with censorship! My journalistic endeavors will never be silenced. You can join in too, by buying my new collection. 'MTT Truth', available now at your local MTT shop.”

A camera hovering over Mettaton’s shoulder tilts up and the human pulls their shirt over their face.

“Now, polish that edge of your seat because now is an opportunity to once again, live in front of the entire Underground, learn more about what life is on the Surface!” continues Mettaton.

Fireworks fly up around him and explode dangerously close to the ceiling in a spectrum of color and various figures of Mettaton. A live band consisting of ghost starts playing behind Mettaton. He jumps down and rolls up to the human. With an extended arm he removes the Temmie from the human’s arms, and then its giggling face.

His microphone hits the human on the mouth. “So, tell me, and all of my beautiful viewers sitting at home eating MTT branded snacks and drinking MTT branded sodas made from the best human soul substitute, everything about the Surface.”

The human pushes the microphone away. “I don’t have time, sorry.”

Mettaton looks at his arm, “It’s around dinner,” and spins around towards the camera hovering behind him. “And that would be a good time to enjoy some MTT branded TV filler upper. Cooked to perfection in less than a commercial break. See you after this one!”

Some more music is played before Mettaton turns back towards the human. He beckons for them to come down, but the human shakes their head. He extends his leg and leans in towards the human. “Listen.”

The human shakes their head again, “No,” and walks away.

Mettaton puts an arm around the human’s waist and pulls them back. “Oh, darling, don’t be so hasty. I can tell by your apparel that you’re already a huge fan of me. Tell you what, darling dearest.”

“Don’t.”

“Why don’t you just give me five minutes of your time and then I’ll let you go with my autograph on that shirt of yours. Heck, why not two?”

“Let me go,” the human makes sure that every word is as crystal clear as possible, “now.”

“Human, why do you want to deny hope to the Underground? We’re gonna live with you soon, so why not try and ease the tensions between us? I’m doing this for the monsters, for the Underground. It’s the start of a brand new world, with humans and monsters living together, and if I can do even the slightest to assure the safety and cooperation of both of our races, I will give it my damnedest. The bond we once shared will be restored. The sins of the past have been forgotten, and the Underground needs to know that you humans are welcoming this new chapter as well. We need a pair of human eyes we can look into and a human mouth to say that it’s gonna be a bright future, one that we’re more than welcome to join. That we will finally be enveloped by the rays of our collective sun, and have our breath taken away by the countless stars twinkling in peace as we did so many years ago. Human and monsters, together again. We will be neighbors. We will be coworkers.” Mettaton puts a hand on the human’s shoulder. “We will be friends!”

A single eyebrow is raised by the human. “How much did you pay for your underlings to write that?”

“Tem flakes!”

The human jumps from the loud shout behind them. A tower of Temmies collapses and one scurries away with papers flying from its mouth. The human rolls their eyes at the spectacle.

Mettaton keeps his hand on the human’s shoulder, much to their dismay. “Listen, human, darling, sweetie. Forget about all that, because I sure didn’t remember any of it. Five minutes, then I’ll be out of your,” Mettaton brushes away the confetti from the human's, “hair.”

The human looks at the lights and equipment around them. With Mettaton’s grip around their waist and their injured arm they’re not going anywhere. They sigh in defeat. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you, human. It means a lot.”

“Spare me. Also I have one condition, don’t show my face.”

“Why of course, human. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Mettaton whistles and a vibrating Temmie gives a mask to the human. “Radentim haven’t worked on you.”

What in the world have they’ve been given? “Why does it look like Frisk?” the human asks accusingly while waving the face in Mettaton’s face.

Mettaton finishes filing his nails. “It was the only good reference of a human I had. Now quiet, my dear human. Not actually quiet, because I want you to answer my questions, darling, but for now.”

With a reluctant hand the human pulls the mask over their head. “Clock’s ticking.”

Mettaton waves to the band and they start playing. He whispers something to the human, but the music is too loud.

“What?”

Mettaton welcomes back his apparent viewers after another short musical interlude. “It’s time to open up another bag of MTT synthetic popcorn because I have with me a live and breathing human, and this one can actually open their mouth.”

Laughter is played through some speakers out of sight for the camera, and Mettaton’s microphone bounces on the human’s mouth. Again.

“You were about to tell us about the Surface?”

“I guess.”

Mettaton throws a handful of confetti into the air. “Wonderful.”

Applauds burst from the speakers as the confetti flutters down gently in between the human and Mettaton,. “So, first question, tell us about the Surface.”

“That isn’t a-” The human hawks. “The Surface is great. It has sun, rain where you don’t expect it, and thunder.”

The gasps from the speakers would drain the Underground of air if the audience was real. Mettaton tilts his head towards his camera. “Isn’t this just magnificent, my darling viewers? You’ve just heard the first weather report from the Surface! Be sure to prepare by buying the proper MTT branded clothing. Remember, no bad weather, just bad clothes, that isn’t MTT branded.”

The speakers roar with cheers, but is interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing.

“Caller, you’re on the air live with the human! Speak your heart, what do you want to ask the human?”

“I was wondering. Mettaton is a very cool and influential idol with quality products and food,” says a poorly masked voice of Mettaton through the speakers. “How am I to purchase such fabulous products once I move to the Surface?”

“An excellent question,” exclaims Mettaton. “So, human, how can you buy MTT branded products up on the Surface?”

Baffled by the question the human furrows their brow at the microphone held up against the lips of their mask. “Um, you can’t.”

“I’m devastated to inform you that the human is right, caller. But not for long!” A large banner with MTT’s face is dropped from the ceiling. “Introducing, the MTT Surface Branch! Yes, with the Barrier now broken MTT will show the surface what quality and mass production truly is. Freedom from the Underground means freedom to expand. Contact your local MTT branded store to see how you can be a part of the new MTT Surface chain.”

The human applauds with their one functioning hand, and takes a bow. “Five minutes are up. Take care, Mettaton.”

“Yes, and I’d like to thank the human for their time. Their appearances is gonna stick with them, and us, for a lifetime.”

“It was a pleasure being here, thank you.”

The human sets course for Hotland, again.

“Oh, human?” A deep and metallic click echoes through the cavern. “I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t give my guests their proper goodbye, now would I?”

The human turns to inform that his goodbye was well enough, but a torrent of Temmies carrying a large felted chair scoops them up and places them on an ornate pedestal. Colorful lights surround the human and more balloons and confetti rains down on them.

A long and metallic leg steps over the chair and a grinning smile peeks from under a luscious black fringe. “Comfortable? I hope so, my sweetie human.” Mettaton sits himself on the armrest. “Because we’re just getting started on your fifteen minutes of fame.”


	51. Metal blusher

"I didn't know humans could do magic. That was a scary one you pulled off."

The human waits for the energetic music to hit a low point before answering. "Pun intended?"

"Wa ha ha, no. Why didn't you tell me your arm was broken, human? Must’ve hurt to pull off your finger like that as well. You want me to bandage it as well?" Gerson tightens the bandage around the arm and the stick supporting it, and hoists it up against their chest with some cloth around the human's shoulder. They grunt in pain. "You want it to hurt a little bit now and not a lot later, trust me," explains Gerson with a smile on his lips.

A Temmie splits the curtains above Gerson and the human, and vibrates gently to the ground. Gerson puts a finger to his mouth and the Temmie head shakes in response. If it was willingly or not the human can't tell, but Gerson seems satisfied with the answer. The Temmie jumps back through the opening it created with a gleeful squeal. Gerson returns his attention to the human's arm as the music climbs back up in intensity.

“This is what I was talking about! Don’t be fooled by the music and my spectacular dance moves, dear viewers. Do be swept away by them though. Hands off me, guard! This is an attempt at censorship if I ever saw one!” informs Mettaton loudly and sternly. Presumably to his camera.

Gerson scoffs, and dries off the spit from the human’s cast. “Alphys, why did you ever invent him? I need to have a talk with her as well. Maybe she can dial back him a bit.”

The commotion on the other side of the scene drowns out the already loud music. Metal against magic, roars against laughter.

“I think he might be enjoying himself,” the human thinks out loud.

Gerson puts a hand behind his ear. “Pardon?”

“I said,” the human leans nearer, “I think he might be enjoying himself!”

“Hundred gold says his viewership is coming close to the fight he had with Frisk. I don’t like that.” His hands stop with the bandaging. “Wait, should I have said that?”

A magenta dagger cuts through the fabric of the red drapes and disperses as it ricochets off the rocky wall behind the scene.

The human puts their hand behind their ear. “Heard what?”

Gerson shrugs his shoulder. “Nothing, just rambling.” The human sees his silent sigh of relief. “By the way, sorry for not remembering that Mettaton was here earlier.”

The vertigo is still present with the human from how high Mettaton hauled them up on that chair. What’s more vivid is the fear and shock on Mettaton’s face as they did their thumb magic once again. The memory wins, and the human smiles.

With a last tug of the bandage Gerson brushes his hands off on his jacket. “Good as new. I mean-”

“I know what you meant.” The human nods. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, kid. Now,” Gerson motions for an opening in the cavern, “let’s see if we can get out of this without being noticed.”

“Do you see this, sweetie viewers? I am being held by multiple guards!” Mettaton exclaims in a panic. Entirely fake panic, but panic nonetheless.

The human peeks under the curtains to assess the situation. Mettaton is indeed being held by four guards, but that doesn’t stop him from running around in a circle unhindered, and flailing around with his arms. Two small monsters are holding on for dear life as his arms curl around like cooked spaghetti noodles. His face is always pointed against the camera and his woes about how he’s being silenced and the unspeakable amount of gratuitous violence against him.

“You can join in the fight, by not switching channels during this commercial break,” he prays to the camera before blowing it a kiss. “See you soon, darlings.”

The commotion stops, and Mettaton eyes focus on his hair. “Could you just make sure my fringe is hanging right, darlings?” he asks the monsters grasping onto his arms. “Maybe give it a bit of a trim with that gorgeous dagger of yours?”

Perplexed, the guard monsters look at each other. Mettaton rolls his eyes and scoffs in annoyance. “I’ll do it myself then. Though you are some fantastic actors, I need to get you all some contracts. Bob!” he shouts. “Get me a stack of contracts!”

While he’s busy admiring himself in the mirror extended from his body Gerson leads the human along the dark wall to the exit.

“You think the guards will manage Mettaton?” the human asks after they’re sure they’re out of hearing distance.

“Wa ha ha, don’t you worry, human. Mettaton won’t hurt them. It would make him look bad in front of his viewers, or worse,” Gerson takes strain on the human as he’s laughing so much, “dent his body.”

The human laughs with Gerson. “Sounds about right.”

“I’ve trained them,” Gerson reassures with a nudge with his elbow, “and I promise you that they’re not giving it their all. I just ordered them to keep him occupied, that’s all. If there’s one thing that can defeat Mettaton without dust being spilled, it’s his ego. His greatest power, and weakness.”

“It was kinda funny seeing you just walk through it all, Gerson. I thought Mettaton would grab you.”

Gerson gives the human a cheeky wink. “I’m not allowed on his show after the last time I was there. Took Monster Lawyer an entire hour just to explain to me why my three season contract was terminated after one episode.“

The human nods towards their makeshift cast. “By the way, where did you learn to treat broken bones like this? Can’t monsters just heal injuries? You didn’t do it before.”

Gerson’s gaze seems to stretch for miles as his steps slow down. “I watched, and learned from you humans a long time ago.” He takes a deep breath and his eye returns to the human. “Here’s where our paths diverge, human,” he informs with a finger towards a turn the both of them just passed. “There’s just some very pretty views ahead of you until you reach Hotland. Good luck with your arm, and may I apologize again for jumping to conclusions?”

The human takes his outstretched hand. “Don’t think about it, Gerson.”

His whistling blends with the energetic music as the human continues down the turn alone.

A field of Echo Flowers lies before them, and as they near it, the flowers start talking about how exciting it is for the monsters to finally move to the Surface. A myriad of voices surround them with hopes and dreams of a shared future between humans and monsters. A lot of it sounds familiar.

The human spots a notebook and a worn down pencil next to a flower. The paper has smudged paw prints on it. Seems like Mettaton got as much originality as he payed for.

“Now, I’ve talked to you about Echo Flowers, and in here I asked my people to talk about their vision of our future,” Asgore's voices says from the flower at the end of the room. His voice is radiating with pride. “Please, hear their words. Take your time.”

The human looks over the field of glowing flowers casting the room in a dim, but still sharp, cyan color. The light mixes beautifully with yellow as a swarm of fireflies dance around them. As they land on the flowers different monster voices talk about how cool the Surface is. “Yoooo, it’s the best!”, says one as a fly lands on it. It takes off after a second. “There’s like, rain and stuff,” the flower continues.

“Hello there, friend!” a jolly and innocent voice calls. “You must be a human. Asgore told me to get you a free nice cream. If you want one, that is.”

A nice cream shaped like a human is handed to the human. “Thanks,” they thank with humanity present in their voice. The humanity they have, not the one they were given. Though they’re thankful for that humanity though, even if it’s currently outside them. Though soon it will be inside them, along with their other humanity.

Nice Cream Guy waves his confused hand in front of the human’s face. “How are you, friend? Brain freeze? You haven’t had a bite yet, how come?”

The questions snaps the human back to reality. “No, sorry. I was just lost in my thoughts. Thank you for this.”

The blue bunny nods and his ears follow his head a second afterwards. “Anytime, friend. Say, where is your group?”

“They’re up ahead, in Snowdin.”

“They’re up ahead, in Snowdin,” repeats a nearby Echo Flower as a firefly lands on it.

Nice Cream Guy’s ears and shoulders sink. “Drat, I was sure I would catch them. I missed them in Hotland. There was this huge dog that just landed on my stall. It was melting, probably from the heat. I heard a voice call for it and it took off. It knocked over my cart.” He pats it gently. “So I had to go get more. I thought I would make it back in time, but...”

The flowers around Nice Cream Guy echoes his deep sigh and the fireflies disperse like the crackles after a firework.

“Mettaton and the entire Tem village is fighting the Royal Guard just up ahead. They will probably be sweaty.” The human unwraps their nice cream and puts it in their mouth. “Just saying.”

There’s a silent crack as Nice Cream Guy’s ears whip upright. “No kidding? They’ll sell like crazy.”

The human stops Nice Cream Guy for just a moment before he takes off running. They remove their humanity from their mouth. “You said you came from Hotland, right? First off, did you see a a yellow flower walk by you? I’m looking for one.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Second, is there anything or anyone there that might go out of their way to do anything to me because I’m a human?”

After a couple of seconds of thinking the blue bunny furrows his brow. “No?”

“No one?” the human repeats. “You sure?”

“I don’t know, you’re kinda scaring me with this question.”

Why can’t he answer? It’s just a simple question. The human tightens their grip on the bunny’s arm and drops of melted nice cream run down his arm. “I’m just a bit tired of being jumped every step of the way," the human explains. "I can’t walk ten steps without something happening. Just tell me what I’m up against!”

“I-it hurts,” Nice Cream Guy whimpers. “Let go.”

The human drags him towards them. “Are you in my way?”

“N-no.”

“Then why aren’t you answering a simple yes or no question?”

“I just want to sell my nice cream.”

The human snaps their eyes on theirs. “Wait, is it magic?”

The bunny nods weakly.

With great effort the human commands their hand to let go of the blue arm. “Sorry. Just go.”

There’s a faint sniffle that’s picked up by the flowers around the cart as it’s wheeled with one arm back towards Mettaton.

The human sighs and throws the nice cream away. The fireflies flock towards it and the way ahead darkens.

Their stomach rumble, but they manage to quell it. Just barely though. It’s silent once again, hopefully it holds up. The human welcomes it, though they fear that it’s just for a moment.

Of all the days to wake up, it had to be the one where the human delegate was visiting. It had to be the day where everyone is on their toes about humans. Not a day earlier, not a day after. Fantastic.

“Hey, aren’t you a human?” asks a monster child with a shirt saying that humans are cool, but not as cool as Mettaton.

“Case in point,” the human laments with a tired sigh.

“My child here have always wanted to meet a human,” says its parent. “Could we have your autograph?”

“The human group is in Snowdin. If you hurry you can catch them,” the human replies without stopping. They ignore the begs from the two monsters, and turn the last corner.

On top of being poked at with every step the human is pretty sure that they’re farther from their goal now than they were when they set out for it. They’ve no idea where Flowey is, for a starter. Is he even in the Underground? Not a clue. Is he Asriel? Not a clue. Is he even alive? Not a goddamn clue.

Sans is crushed under a big boulder, so now his plan is shrouded in dust as well as mystery. Frisk is probably gonna try and reset when they find out. And that will further extend the memory problems this journey was supposed to fix.

“Stay determined,” the human reminds themselves. “Stay determined, it’s the only way to get through this. If Frisk could, then so can you.”

This plan has to work, they have to get through this! The monsters will never be able to survive on the Surface with all the memories they’ve plagued them with. They’re all flawed, they’ve all done horrible things. The human has killed them all once though, so who are they to judge?

Warm air breezes by them, and a red glow replaces the blue atmosphere of the Waterfall. The human dips their head carefully into a small waterfall to cool off before they finally reach Hotland. They embrace the uncomfortable warmth, but there’s still no Flowey in sight. Not a vine, not even a root. Just lava and jagged rocks as far as the eye can see.

The rope bridge makes no fuss as the human walks over it. They fill a cup of water for the road from the water cooler after the bridge, and take a sip immediately.

Up ahead is the Lab standing white and silent in contrast to the red and busy surrounding. The human shakes their head at it and instead head for the elevator to MTT Resort.

“Magical identification required,” informs the elevator with an emotionless voice.

The human curses with an emotionfull voice and throws the cup at the console.

“Magical identification failed. You do not have access, Onionsan,” informs the elevator again. The human stops just short of kicking the console. 

The Lab doors open with a mocking hiss. The human sees their annoyed face in the large monitor, and it isn’t helping them feel any better. The bathroom door has a dent in it. The human flexes their fingers on their broken arm and breathes through their teeth as it informs them that it’s still broken.

They exit the Lab on the other side, and their shoulders sink when they see the narrow and sharp way in front of them. Steam is shooting from the pipes they walk over, and some almost burn their feet. A series of conveyor belts have them flailing around with their one functional arm just to stay upright and not fall on their broken one.

“Fuku, look! Another human is going the stupid way. Let’s see how they react to the jump vents!” shouts a young voice from above.

The human stops and looks at the pad in front of them. Just one more step and they will be launched over a long drop into lava. Thing is, it was strong enough for Frisk, and they’ve no idea if it has enough strength to launch an adult human.

“Why is it stupid?” asks another monster from up above.

“They could just take the elevator? You know, like anyone sensible would do?”

“But it’s closed. They said so in school. Something about a human parade.”

“Explains why I didn’t know about it.”

“Hey!” the human finally addresses the young monsters on the rocky passage above them. ”Is there really no other way other than this one and the elevator?”

The purple monster kicks its skateboard up into its hand and sits down with their legs swinging over the edge. “Not from where you’re standing, human. You think you can ollie up here, perhaps? Otherwise I have no idea.”

“Standing?” asks the green fire monster. “I have an idea!” It stands up and waves to something high up. “Tsunder! This human likes you!”

Loud engine noises close in on the human, and they duck as a plane swoops in just above their head. It hovers in the air, just observing the human, before blushes form on its metallic cockpit.

“W-why did you call me, Fuku? It’s not like I w-want to see another human,” the plane whispers loudly while not meeting the human’s eyes.

“But they want to see you,” repeats Fuku with a smile on her sparkling face. “Look at them.”

“N-no!”

“They asked us to ask you to show them around Hotland.”

Tsunder glances at the human. “Is that true?”

The human looks at Fuku, who nods with a wink. “Yes,” they say carefully. “I’d love to?”

Tsunder’s engine rev up, and their hat flops down over their cockpit’s window. “No way! Why would I like you? You’re a human.”

The human again looks to Fuku who spreads her arms out repeatedly. “Um, you have an impressive wingspan?” Fuku makes a circle under her arm. “And nice turbines?”

The plane makes a roll over in the air and its hat falls next to the human. “Don’t touch it!” it squeals as the human bends over to pick it up. Slowly it glides down and nonchalantly bumps against the human with a wing.

“If you learned this in school I would almost consider attending,” the purple monster whispers into Fuku’s ear. Fuku hushes them with a harsh finger.

“So,” the plane hawks loudly, and almost seductively, almost, “you should go, human. I don’t care.”

The human can tell that it cares. Fuku motions for the human to turn around. Tsunder dives uncomfortably fast and stops the human in their step. “I could do it myself, but can you just remove this rock from my back?”

The human catches a glimpse of a broken stalagmite above them. The cut looks very fresh. They grab the rock, causing Tsunder’s blushes to turn as red as the lava below them. The human feels Tsunder’s engines against their leg.

“Hmph! H-human? Your leg is stuck in my engine.” Tsunder's voice can barely contain its excited giggling. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” the human informs as they jerk their leg back from the spinning turbine.

“Yes, you did!” The plane looks away, gracing the human with their winglet in the process. “Not that I care or anything.”

“Tsunder!” Fuku yells again. “The human needs a ride to MTT.”

Tsunder’s engine stops. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah, sure. Could you give me one?”

“No!” Tsunderplane shouts. It turns itself and waves to the human. “Get on then.”

“Didn’t you say no?”

“No. Hurry, I have cool places to be. Because I’m cool! Not like you. You’re a,” Tsunder sighs lovingly, “a human.”

Fuku nods to the human as they look up one last time for advice. The human puts their hand on Tsunder and climbs on its fuselage. Another pleased sigh is exhaled from Tsunder before it takes off without warning.

“T-thanks for the ride,” the human says with a forced smile as they land right outside MTT Resort. Their pale face struggles to hold in their sick. “Could I ask for less loops next time?”

“You didn’t like them?” Tsunder asks. “W-whatever,” it stutters out. “It’s not like I care.”

Drops of oil hit the ground as it takes away in a sulk. The human takes a moment to collect themselves from the wild ride they just went on.

“You alright there?” worries a sharply dressed monster at the door leading into MTT Resort. “I can’t let you in if you’re already intoxicated.”

“No, it’s not that,” the human assures. “It’s just how we humans look when we’re excited.”

The monster opens the door. “If you say so. Welcome to MTT Resort.”

The human looks around, but still no Flowey. They head straight for the elevator on the other side of the floor. To their enormous joy it opens.

A long ride later the button labeled ‘New Home’ flashes bright. The human steps out onto the gray that is the city’s skyline.

The door to Asgore’s house is askew, and the light inside is turned off. The human opens the door carefully and flicks on the light. “Hello?”

From the edge of their vision they see a door closing. Chara rushes towards it and throws it open. They can barely make out the color of the green sweater worn by the small figure in the dark. It turns around while wringing its sweater.

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see me like this,” the figure pleads with a pathetic whimper.

Chara narrows their eyes. “Asriel?”


	52. One remains

"Go away, Chara! Just leave me alone," screams the figure with a shaky voice. It looks around for an escape, but the only way out is blocked.

Chara takes strain against the door frame as they’re surprised by their relieved laugh. After everything that has happened, finally something good has come off it all! Finally there’s an end in sight. "No, Asriel," they pat the wall next to them for the light switch, "you've no idea how much easier everything has become!" Chara's fingers find it, and they flick the light on. "You can't fathom the weight lifted from my-" Their face sinks like a rock attached to an anchor as they see what’s actually in front of them. “Asriel?”

Two thick vines are thrown in front of the muzzle made out of leafs and stems. "No! Please don't! I don't want you to see me like this!" The goat child’s form convulses as the vines and thorns shaping it are sucked into a small and sniveling flower. The sweater hangs in the air before slowly covering the crying flower. Flowey's cries is muffled by the soft sweater landing on him.

No! Why would he do that? Chara bends down and lifts the sweater off the small flower. Flowey shuffles backwards in a panic. “No! I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hurt me!”

Chara reaches out for him, but he swats the hand away and locks himself in the wardrobe behind him. Chara tugs at the handles, but it’s being held shut from the other side. “Asriel?” they ask with a careful knock.

“Go away,” answers the wardrobe after a long and silent while.

“I’m not mad about what you said before. You were right, I wasn’t the nicest person.”

“It’s your fault I’m this. Having you near me just makes everything worse. Go away!”

Chara tries the handle again, but to no avail. “Asriel, we’ll fix you. I promise.”

“I’m not Asriel. I don’t deserve it. Flowey just deserves to rot away in the Underground.” Sniffles escape the tiny gap between the wardrobe doors. “Alone, and forever. Flowey couldn’t kill, so he deserved to be killed. His rules, so he has to live by them. Go and live your life without me.”

“My life is only worth living with my best friend,” Chara reminds.

“Well, he’s gone. Only his remains remain, me.”

“Well, let’s make you Asriel again,” Chara proposes with a smile despite the closed doors blocking Flowey from seeing it. “Then we’ll sidestep the problem, right? Let’s get rid of Flowey, and get back Asriel. We’ll never speak of Flowey again, and then get back to living with mom and dad.”

“Twice now I’ve woken up like this, and that’s twice too many. I couldn’t handle one, and I’ve lived through two,” Flowey explains angrily and with fear.

“This time we’ll be together to figure something out. And third time’s the charm, as they say.”

Flowey throws open the doors, “Yeah, the third time I hopefully won’t wake up again!” and slams them closed again.

Another minute of silent passes in the room where the fallen child and their goat friend once lived together. “You sound like Frisk, Chara,” Flowey finally snarks. “You know that? Are you gonna hug me until I get better? Is that your plan?”

“Perhaps they rubbed off on me,” shrugs Chara. “In the same way they rubbed off on you. We owe a lot to them, don’t we? They saved both of us, and now we have the chance to repay them, and give them the best ending they deserve. It just happens to be our best ending as well.”

Chara shuffles up, and sits down with their back against the wardrobe. “It’s the least we can do. And isn’t this what our plan was about? For you and me to save the monsters? Now that they’re all saved we can start again. The only thing missing is Asriel,” Chara taps the wooden side with their knuckles, “the only thing missing is you.”

Chara looks around the room as they wait for an answer. Two beds, some strewn toys. Yup, two best friends lived here. Just like they had with their twin. The difference being that down here Chara wasn’t swept under the rug.

The wardrobe door pokes at their side and they move out of the way. “Could you,” says Flowey with his head lowered, “could you get us some pie from the living room?”

Chara nods. “Sure, I’ll get you some.”

“Chara?” Flowey interrupts Chara leaving the room. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, Asriel.”

The door is closed silently.

As they walk down the hallway, Aofil can’t help but indulge themselves a bit. They let loose a smile now that they finally have a chance to do it. It feels good to have something going with you for once. How they’ll go about turning Flowey back to Asriel is gonna be a bit of a monumental task now that they can’t use Sans’ plan, but hey, magic is magic, so there outta be something they can do, right? They’ll cross that bridge once they get to it, for now they still have to focus on keeping Flowey convinced that they're Chara.

The gray living room is filled to the brim with different presentations about business propositions, city planning, and other conference items. The tour must’ve been the carrot for the human group, but first they had to get through this.

The table is decorated with different desserts and opened bottles of champagne. Cakes and snacks cover the purple cloth on the table. They’re human made, except for one. In the middle on an elevated serving plate sits a familiar smelling pie. Toriel’s pie baking must be some core memories to her if she still managed to make one.

Aofil leans over and grabs the small slice left on the platter with the spade next to it. They serve it on a disposable plate and catch their reflection in the platter’s polished metal. With a chuckle they let their fringe hang over their eyes and pull their cheeks menacingly. They look just like their twin, and they shower themselves in praise.

If they managed to convince the best friend of the one they portrayed then it had to be a good performance. Maybe they should work for Mettaton after all, make sure that their acting abilities doesn’t go to waste after this. They don’t want to do something akin to impersonating their dead twin in order to convince their transformed brother to go back to the people he toyed with for who knows how many years in an attempt to straighten out memory anomalies induced by manipulating what was considered something constant and above science and magic. Not again, that is. Maybe an adaptation of ‘I was born a human’ instead. Yeah, something like that.

Chara opens the door to Flowey slowly. “Asriel? I got the pie.”

No answer.

Chara walks up to the wardrobe. “Mom still got it, the pie smells delicious. She’ll make us more once we get to the Surface.”

As they put their hand on the knob the doors fly open with a violent crash. “You idiot!”

Aofil is thrown onto the ground. They scream in agony as their weight crushes their broken arm. Vines surround them and they’re lifted up as a tightly compressed package. The vines contract against their arm and again they scream from the pain.

Flowey slinks up to the face of his captive. “How stupid can you be? Chara wouldn’t ask me to become Asriel. I wouldn’t be a part of the decision! I never was!”

“Frisk, they-”

The vines again squeeze. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not Chara, not even close. If anything you’re Frisk, and Frisk couldn’t save me, they could only save Asriel. So why should I listen to you?” With a smug smile Flowey hovers the pie in front of the human’s face. “Now eat up.” With a vine he pries open the human’s mouth, and with another vine he breaks off a piece. “Open wide, my child. Eat up and show me the allergy that you don’t have,” he says condescendingly with Toriel’s voice. “Open wide!” his voice shifts back to his own, “and show me that you’re not Chara!”

Chara spits the piece out. “Listen to me, Asriel! You don’t want to do this.”

Flowey takes the remainder of the pie and dices it up before shoving it into the human’s mouth. This time he wraps a vine around the mouth and nose of the human. “You swallow, you breathe,” he threatens with fire in his eyes. With another vine he squeezes the human’s chest, causing them to cough. He relaxes the vine over the human’s mouth and they breathe in reflex, along with the pie in their mouth.

After letting the human catch their breath Flowey lifts up their head with a leaf. “Look at me. Open your eyes!”

Chara smirks under their fringe. “Fine.”

“Y-you,” Flowey stutters as he sees the grin forming on the human’s lips. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Chara chuckles to themselves, “Why can’t you learn, Asriel,” and throws their eyes open. “Don’t be in my way!”

“Your eyes,” Flowey whimpers as he loses control of his vines. “T-they’re-”

“Oh, they’re mine alright,” Aofil nods as they’re released from Flowey’s grasp. They grab him by his stem with their broken arm and lift him up. “But they’re not Chara’s.”

Flowey’s petals drops and his eyes dart around the face he thought he knew. “B-but, they’re red, because of your allergy, Chara. You’re allergic to magic. See, I remember our secret.”

Aofil rubs a petal between their fingers. It’s soft, frail, pathetic. It would be so easy just to.

Flowey pained cry doesn’t bother Aofil’s one bit. “Is he Asriel?” they ask.

The extended vines whistle past Aofil’s ears. They pay them no mind, “Or is he Flowey?” and pluck another petal.

A white petal graces their cheek, but they don’t care. They move their finger to another petal.

“Stop!” Flowey cries out, “I’m Asriel,” and morphs his face and voice to that of Asriel’s. “See? I was Asriel all along. No need to hurt me anymore.”

Aofil let’s go of the petal. “Oh, there you are, finally.”

Asriel nods with a scared smile on his face. “Yeah, here I am.”

“Say, now that you’re here. Why don’t I try and bring out your soul? It must be so boring for it being stuck inside someone who doesn’t know how to use it.”

Asriel’s muzzle quivers in fear.

“Yeah, you remember that, don’t you? Like a distant candle in the thick fog that is your memories. Can you feel it all coming back to you? Your mind overwhelmed by things that happened and didn’t happen at the same time. Which are real? Which are true? Are they all true, but in a different way?”

“Who are you?” Asriel asks with a scared snivel.

“I’m your best friend’s twin. Call me Aofil.”

No answer.

“Say it!”

“Aof-fil,” Asriel cries.

“Good! Now, Asriel,” Aofil smiles, “let’s get you out of this worthless form,” and with their other hand they start dragging Flowey apart.

“Please don’t kill me!” Asriel’s voice cries out as tears dot the wooden floor below them.

“Kill, or be killed,” Aofil reminds.

“W-wait! You said you had Chara’s allergy?”

Aofil nods. “Runs in the family.”

Flowey’s face returns and a sinister grin replaces Asriel’s muzzle. “Good.” With a punch to the gut he forces Aofil to drop him. “I would never do that to Chara,” he shrugs with his leafs facing upwards, “but you’re not them. So enjoy puking up your inside, you idiot!”

Vile and sick cover the floor and Flowey nimbly dodges it before walking slowly towards the door. “Wait!” Aofil yells in between heavings, but Flowey keeps going. Aofil takes strain against the wardrobe. Their stomach protest loudly, but they force it quiet. They can’t let Flowey escape, they have to move! With heavy legs they navigate the red haze covering their vision.

Flowey turns around and laughs at Aofil struggling to stand upright at the door. “Wow, you look horrible, and that’s only your clothes. Look at you!” Flowey grows back his lost petals without any effort. “Idiot on two legs, barely even. Do us all a favor and fall off the edge here while you’re at it.”

Flowey burrows and Aofil falls to their knees. “I’m sorry!” they cry out.

Their voice dies down, their plead lost in the empty gray around them. Just as Aofil tries to stand up Flowey pops out of the ground with a quizzical look next to Aofil, albeit outside arm's reach. “What did you say?”

“I said,” Aofil quells another wave of sick, “I said that I’m sorry. It’s our curse, I didn’t mean to.”

“You wanted to kill me,” Flowey transforms his face, “Just like Chara,” and switches it back to his. ”Give me one good reason why you did it.”

“I need to bring back Asriel.”

“You and everyone else,” Flowey whispers to himself. “And why should I trust anything you say? You just tried to trick me.” He flicks his petals with one of his vines. “And kill me!”

Aofil regains some control over their insides. “No one else dies, that was my only condition for doing this. I swear.”

“Aha,” Flowey nods with his tongue hanging outside, “then what do you call what you just did to me? Is it a human handshake of sorts? And besides,” Flowey’s face turns into a skull, “no one dies? heh, good job on that one,” Flowey mocks with Sans’ voice before cracking his face in half.

“You forced my allergy. You know how Chara would react to it, right?”

After some internal debating Flowey reluctantly nods. “Yeah, guess I do.”

“I react the same. When it comes to Sans, I never wanted to kill him,” Aofil sighs, “He just, attacked me. Probably to show you that I had the same curse, allergy, whatever, as Chara, to convince you,” and shrugs their shoulders. “If anything it worked, right?”

Flowey crosses his vines and extends his tongue again, “No,” but eventually gives up. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry for deceiving you, Flowey. I am, truly, but it was the only way we could think of convincing you to follow me back up to the Surface.”

Flowey doesn’t react, he’s lost in his thoughts. “I was overwhelmed with joy to see them again, you know? I thought that, if Chara could come back, so could I. I mean, they’re both impossible tasks, so maybe I had a chance after all if Chara managed.” Flowey lets a smile grow on his face. “Me, and my best friend, together again, back from the dead. You with your cheeks,” Flowey summons a pair of his own, “you were pretty convincing.”

Aofil taps their burning ones. “They’re the same as Chara’s, so I don’t blame you for being fooled.”

“But then,” Flowey continues with a sense of dread hanging in his voice, “then I remembered. Their plan, their grin, and their determination. I was only a means to an end, a tool. Once I stopped being useful, once I stood in their way.” Flowey turns to Aofil. “They had the same pair of eyes that you just had, the same hatred. Was it because of their allergy? Do you know?”

Aofil is taken back by the sincerity in Flowey’s question.

“I don’t, Flowey.” Aofil puts a hand on their chest. It’s burning hot. “Maybe Chara did? We’ll never know.” They nod towards the tar-like substance covering the floor inside the house. “As you can see, I can’t really control it.”

“You should probably clean that up,” Flowey suggest while backing away from it. “I cleaned you up when you were unconscious, so it’s your turn now.”

Aofil nods. “Fair enough.”

To their surprise Aofil finds Flowey sitting on the bed as they return to the kids room with a bucket and a mop from the kitchen. “By the way,” he asks while scratching his chin with a leaf, “does Toriel and Asgore know about you and Chara?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, or at least I don’t think so. They might’ve suspected the reset before, the trial might have clued them in.”

“Trial?”

“Long story. Right now I don’t think they suspect anything. What with their memories in chaos.”

Flowey ducks underneath a flick of determination as Aofil’s arm figures out it’s supposed to hurt again. “Memories in chaos? Like what you tried, but failed, to scare me with?”

“Failed,” Aofil chuckles through teeth clenched in pain, “yeah, sure.”

“I was lowering your guard,” Flowey stretches out his vines, “and this mess is proof enough that it worked.”

“Whatever. So yeah, everyone’s memory is messed up. Something about it lingering on from previous resets. Frisk has them intact because it’s their reset. And mine are whole as well because-”

“I know,” Flowey interrupts, “I was there.”

“And,” Aofil continues while hunting the last spots of gunk on the floor, “because I was such a drastic shift in the timeline their memories from the previous ones didn’t apply, as in, they couldn’t be jumbled. I cured them by just being something completely different.”

Aofil wrings out the last drop into the bucket and catches Flowey’s furrowed expression. He sizes Aofil up, and slowly raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Or whatever, it’s what I was told,” Aofil shrugs with a sigh. “Really, it doesn’t matter exactly how it worked. It did, and now we need it to happen again.”

“With Asriel,” Flowey adds.

Aofil picks up the bucket carefully as not to spill and catch a glimpse of the contents again. “Exactly.”

Flowey smacks his lips. “And I’m not enough?” he asks Aofil's back.

A handful of drops splash over the edge of the bucket as Aofil stops in their step. “What?”

Flowey jumps down and drags himself in front of Aofil. “Why am I not enough to scare them back straight?”

“Didn’t you say to Frisk that you wanted to be forgotten? That it would be better for everyone? Them knowing about you would just replace their mixed thoughts with dread and utter devastation. You’re not Asriel, you said so yourself. So them not knowing is way better.” Aofil steps over Flowey. “Trust me on that one.”

The bucket flies out of Aofil’s hand as their ankles are grabbed by Flowey. Aofil manages to correct themselves in the air and lands on their shoulder instead of their arm. The bucket crashes against the hallway floor and its contents color the walls.

Flowey slithers up to Aofil’s face. “Why is my life worth less than that crybaby of a goat? Is it because I don’t have a soul?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do I have to get myself a soul for me to be worth anything in anyone’s eyes?”

“You’re not getting mine, and you know that.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want yours. The last time I had a cursed one didn’t go so well. I’d imagine yours being pretty weak as well since I couldn’t get it out last time. No, I have a better idea,” Flowey proposes with a smile. “Why not get Frisk to give me theirs? They seem so eager to set everything right, so this should be a no brainer, just like they have. We might even share body and mind, how neat is that? A crybaby goat, and a child so bent on making everything better that they would just toss their life away. We will be the perfect little angel. Too bad Frisk has to kill themselves and become a martyr, but I’m sure Toriel and Asgore will be perfectly fine with another child dying for their cause and offspring.”

“But hey, at least I’m back,” Asriel’s voice and face cheers, “and isn’t that all that matters? Mom and dad will forget all about Frisk now that I’m here!” he gleefully smiles. ”It’s just me, screw everybody else! Especially Frisk, am I right?” Asriel giggles.

“No one else dies,” Aofil reminds sternly and with a vicious tone. “Be it Frisk, or anyone else.”

Flowey returns himself to himself. “But you want me to die so you can bring back Asriel? We can continue this conversation once you’ve tucked in your hypocrisy.”

Aofil grabs Flowey by the stem again. “Did I stutter?”

Flowey forms his face to that of Aofil. “Y-y-y-es,” he says with Aofil’s voice.

“Then let me say it again. No. One. Else. Dies!”

“Good!” Flowey pricks Aofil’s hand with a thorn and drops out of it back onto the bed as Aofil flinches. “So how do you plan on bringing him back without killing me? I’m what’s left of him, so please tell me your genius plan to make Asriel without the Asriel ingredients.”

Flowey’s got Aofil there. They stumble to think of anything, but nothing comes. “I, I don’t know.”

Flowey throws his vines in the air. “Well, that’s question one answered unsatisfactory! Question two then, do I get any say in the matter? What happens if I don’t want to bring him back? Will you respect my decision, or will you make it for me?”

“That’s a lot of question twos,” Aofil remarks.

“Well,” Flowey nods with a plastered smile, “excuse me for wondering if I’m allowed to decide about myself. That is not to say that I’m in good hands,” Flowey reassures to Aofil with a serious look, “after all, the one literally trying to rip me off should be the one with the final say about me. Don’t you agree?”

“Do you want to become Asriel?”

Flowey meets Aofil’s eyes. “If I say no, what are you gonna do about it?”

“Leave.”

Flowey’s smug smile fades and his eyes dance around Aofil’s face. “What do you mean, leave? Leave me be?”

“You, Toriel, Alphys, everyone. I’m gonna leave.” Aofil motions with their hand. “Just move away. I can’t be near them, even if I manage to bring back Asriel. One, because of my allergy, and two, because I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of magic, tired of resets, tired of being the one to fix everything even though I wasn’t a part of it.”

Flowey fails to hide his swelling curiosity, and he jumps closer to the edge of the bed. “Aren’t you friends with them?”

“I don’t know? I guess I am because I agreed to do this, but then again, they’ve thrown me under the bus more times than they’ve invited me on board. You were right about everyone of them, Flowey.”

“I, I was?”

Aofil runs their hand over their face. “I just want it all to be over.” It stops over their mouth. “I can’t stand seeing them reliving their memories, and I can’t stand reliving my own. I just need to get away from all this.”

Aofil feels their legs give in and they slump down on the bed. They’re tired, so tired. They didn’t want for any of this. They try, but their strength is missing. They can’t hold it back, their facade is crumbling. They can’t keep up this act any longer. “I don’t want to see them again!” they cry out.

Aofil collapses into their own arm, but it’s too weak to hold them up. Tears darken their clothes and the floor underneath them. “I want it to be over,” they force out amid their wails. “Magic killed my family, my twin, and it’s gonna be the death of me! I was happy not knowing about any of this!”

“Your family is dead? Chara’s family is dead?” Flowey asks as he also sinks down into the opposite bed. “I never really thought about them having a human family. We were theirs, so I guess I just kinda forgot. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for your loss?”

In the bed that once was Chara's sits Aofil, their twin.

In the bed that once was Asriel's sits Flowey, what's left of him.

“Thanks,” Aofil manages to muster after a while.

“Yeah,” Flowey nods awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”

Aofil feels the awkwardness themselves hanging over them. Damn, what are they doing? They have to keep it together, stay focused. They dry their eyes, and steady their breath.

“You alright?” Flowey asks out of courtesy.

Aofil exhales a heavy sigh, “Yeah, I think so,” and collects themselves.

“Good,” Flowey nods.

It’s quiet in the house, not a sound to be heard. Both are just sitting on the bed, thinking.

“You know,” Aofil finally says. They turn to Flowey with a small snivel, “when I said that it’s better not to know, I meant it.”

“How?”

“When I died,” Aofil starts before losing themselves to a disbelieving scoff. They eventually manage to get in under control, “I met my family, including Chara. Even the notion drives me crazy, but I saw them again, they told me how proud they were. But now? After all this? I don’t know if any of it was true, if it really happened. I think of it every second of the day. I can never not wonder if it was real or not. I’m constantly thinking about every smallest detail, trying to remember some detail that would indicate one way or another, but I never find one. What I would give to not know.”

“I, I think I understand,” Flowey says while rubbing his stem with one of his vines.

“And that’s why you can’t help them, Flowey, since they will have the same doubt. They will always wonder if there’s a chance to get Asriel back. They won’t see you as Flowey, they will see you as a broken Asriel. They’ll tear themselves apart looking for something to help you. Eventually they will literally tear themselves apart do help you, and that would go against why I came here. I need either Asriel, or no one, to help them. I can’t give them the pieces, they’ll die of grief trying to assemble it.”

After some silent thinking Flowey sighs. “Can I ask you a question? How many times do you think we’ve had this conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that there’s been resets, how many I’m not sure, but here I am, still being Flowey. Why should I assume that this one would be the one? Are we just saying the same thing we did before? What is different this time? You? Then why couldn’t I be Asriel the reset before? What prevented it?”

Aofil rubs their forehead with their tired hand. “Above Lab blew up.”

Flowey’s petals perk up. He leans in front of Aofil with a quizzical look. “The what blew up?”

“The Above Lab,” Aofil mutters, “the one Asgore built to celebrate humans and monsters working together.”

Flowey blinks into empty air. He then looks back at Aofil. “Why didn’t you tell me that, you piece of idiot?” he yells at the top of his lungs. Aofil recoils back from the volume. “I’ve never heard of Above Lab before! That’s what’s different! If I was made with just monster science, then perhaps if we add human science into the mix we can make me a soul. Alphys works there as well? If not, we’ll make her. She’s so easy to manipulate.”

Aofil is not really comfortable with the smile Flowey’s wearing. “Manipulate to work better?”

“Asgore is probably gonna try and have it be about your human science, but if you-”

“No.”

“Yes, if you,” Flowey repeats, “talk to her about how your soul is cursed and broken and all that she will dedicate all her time to figuring out how to make a new soul. Give her a good cry like you just did. Then you can just give it to me, and we’ll have Asriel back in no time. You’ll be best friends since you both cry just as much. No need to reveal who I am, to them I’ll just be Flowey, the flower, a nice monster friend you found here in the Underground.”

Aofil leans back from Flowey’s excited face all up in theirs. “You’re coming with me?” they risk the question.

Flowey sits back down. “Me? Of course I will! You’ll probably screw it up by opening your mouth, like you did with me.”

“So,” Aofil points to the door, “let’s go? And how do we keep you a secret?”

Flowey blows his lips. “You kidding? The Smiley Trashbag is dead, and only you and Frisk know who I am. I’ll live with you to make sure you aren’t getting any cold feet.” He wrings his vines. “Perhaps you could show me some of Chara’s stuff as well?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” Flowey begs.

“Maybe, I don’t know how I feel about that yet. We’ll see.”

Flowey returns a nod. “Thank you, really.”

A minute of silence passes before Flowey coughs it away. “So, how do you plan on bringing me up?”

“I saw some pots in the hallway?”

Flowey waits for the punchline, but nothing comes. “You’re serious?”

“How else am I gonna smuggle a flower up to the Surface?” Aofil retorts with a befuddled hand.

Flowey mumbles in annoyance to himself. “Fine,” he reluctantly accepts, “but I want the biggest one you can find.”

Aofil throws their hand up, “Sure, whatever,” and leaves to get a pot.

“Remember, biggest one you can find,” Flowey reminds loudly.

Aofil sighs through their lips at it all, but deep down they’re jumping for joy. Finally an end is in sight.


	53. Pot of soul

"You're not gonna get in the pot?" Aofil asks as Flowey takes lead down the stairs.

He scoffs loudly out of sight. "That's only for when we meet the others," he teases from the basement.

"So what," Aofil asks while waving the pot, "am I just gonna carry this around? It’s heavy, and I can only use one arm, you know?"

Flowey turns around and winks with his tongue out. Aofil lowers their brow and shakes their head in annoyance.

"You're the one wanting to bring Asriel back," Flowey remarks while giving Aofil a sarcastic smile, he gets none in return, "so you do the work for him. You still owe me from when you were unconscious."

Aofil has a hard time believing that. "Really, I’m the only one here wanting to get Asriel back?"

Flowey turns back around, and looks out over the gray cityscape. "Really."

"So why did you dress up as him then back there? You do that when you’re alone?"

Flowey stops in his steps and Aofil manages to catch up. "Because..." His eyes search for a horizon too far away for him to see. He catches something though, and his gaze falls on the ground in front of him, "This is it, this is where Chara..." and his breathing becomes short. He recoils from something Aofil can't see with a scared shout. "No, not here. This was a bad idea.”

"You alright?"

“Let me in the pot!" Flowey grabs Mettaton's face on Aofil's shirt and twists the robotic smile into a desperate frown mirroring Flowey's. "Just put me in the pot!"

Aofil lowers the pot and Flowey dives in recklessly. With one eye Aofil looks into the dark of the pot. At the bottom lies a shaking Flowey with his leafs wrapped around his body. "You need some dirt?"

"Shut up!" Flowey screams. "Walk! Let me know when we're at the Barrier."

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Aofil explains as they agree that the question might've been a bit on the nose. "I'm genuinely curios, I swear."

"Just go!"

"Fine, fine."

Aofil checks where their feet land, but they find nothing to indicate what spooked Flowey. The path is as gray as everything around them, nothing more, nothing less. “You wanna talk about it?” they ask again into the pot.

“No,” whimpers the pot silently, “and please don’t look at me while you’re smiling.” Flowey tries to muffle his scared breathing, but Aofil can hear it resonate clearly from the pot. Might be best leaving him alone for the time being, if anything he’s easier to move now. No need to fear him burrowing every time he’s out of sight. A Flowey in the hand, as they say.

Or something.

The pot shakes in Aofil’s hands as they enter the bright and colorful corridor. It seems a bit dimmer than usual though, like something is eating up the light inside it. Aofil looks up and their suspicion is confirmed as the roof looks very different from what they remember. It seems a bit looser, even. They bend down and pick up a rock.

Aofil nods to themselves as the roof starts swaying from the impact of the rock. The waves of the impact circle out onto a piece of cloth spanning the surface of the roof. Gone are the mural with all the monsters, replaced by a tarp made to look like the same tiles used for the pillars and wall. Had Aofil not known what was above it they’d been fooled, so they guess that it worked plenty for the human delegation.

“Here’s where they really showed themselves,” Flowey says, still huddled deep down in the pot. “Here’s where I knew I screwed up.”

“You didn’t help Sans?” Aofil asks the pot. A deep tone is produced by their breath from the opening. “If you knew they would kill you, why didn’t you help Sans kill them?”

“B-because,” Flowey stifles a snivel, “I care about them.”

“Still, after everything?”

“Yes,” Flowey admits after a short, but powerful, silence. “Do you?”

Like a wall, the question stops Aofil in their track. “I,” they start, but can’t find any words to continue. They just stand there, in the middle of the blazing orange corridor.

“I,” they try again after a while, “I don’t know. They are my twin, but I didn’t know them. I can’t really decide who to trust, the one I saw when I was dead, or the one that was alive. Did they do everything because of their curse?” Aofil meets Flowey’s eyes at the bottom of the pot. “You obviously liked them, they were your best friend.”

Flowey’s nod is small, so small that Aofil could barely see even if Flowey was out in the light. “My best friend, the one I cared for the most in all the world.”

“Frisk made you rethink that?” Aofil pries as carefully as they can. “Seeing everything from another angle?”

“Maybe.”

“Frisk have made me rethink some things as well,” Aofil sighs, “but not in a good way. Far from it, to be honest.”

Flowey doesn’t answer, instead he curls up a bit more.

“Actually, now that I think about it, the monsters to me is like Chara to you.”

Aofil gives Flowey some time to think in hope that they won’t have to explain it. “What?” he replies.

Aofil breathes in through their nose and exhales calmly through their mouth. ”Despite everything, we’re still dumb enough to care about them. Despite them manipulating us, lying to us, we still want to believe that there’s some good in them, the lingering thread of what we thought they were, and we can’t shake it off. We try and we try, but here we still are. Even though they’re the one that put us in this situation, we still care about them. We know that they’re bad for us, that we’ve suffered greatly because of them. Heck, we’ve even died because of them. The only logical thing is to put this all behind us, and never speak of it again. Cut the chord, so to speak. We have to let go, but we can’t.”

Aofil pauses to catch their breath before continuing. “There’s something missing though. It began with Asriel, and it will end with Asriel. Once he’s back you’ll get a chance to live a life without Chara, and I get to live a life without magic tainting my existence.”

Still no answer.

“And that’s why I think you came with me.” Aofil nods to themselves. “You want Chara gone, leave them behind. You want them to be the one forgotten. That might be a bit harsh for me to say, but you’re thinking it. This is your chance to live the life you wanted, but Chara can’t be a part of it.”

“Let’s say that I am thinking that. Am I a bad person for thinking that?” Flowey asks quietly. “They were my friend.”

“I’m not sure that I can answer that, Flowey. I don’t know who Chara was.” Aofil shrugs their shoulder. “None of us did, except you. I don’t even know them now.”

“Do you think they will think I’m a bad person?”

“Chara, or the monsters?”

Flowey nods.

“Ah, both,” Aofil realizes after a second. “To be honest, I think the only one that can answer that is you, Flowey. You’re the only one with the full story.”

Flowey hums to himself, but says nothing.

Again the surrounding color turns gray as Aofil reaches the end of the corridor. They spot another large piece of cloth hiding the path to the caskets. Are they still there though? Aofil runs their hand against the edge of the textured cloth. They find a small flap and make a hole they can fit through.

“Where are we going?” Flowey questions suspiciously. “This is the wrong way.”

“I need to apologize to some kids,” Aofil explains. “And I’m pretty sure you need to as well.”

Flowey pops out of the pot, his petals getting stuck at the lip before springing up. He looks down the stairs. “Can I wait up here?” He turns to Aofil, “I don’t think they would forgive me.”

“You never know.”

Flowey lowers his head in shame. “I kinda do. I still remember how they screamed at me when I absorbed them.”

“Oh,” Aofil puts him down. “I didn’t think about that. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Flowey rubs his vines uncomfortably. “Just hurry.”

The caskets are still where they were. Aofil walks up to the them, and sits down on their knees. “Sorry, for everything. None of you deserved this. I hope you have peace now.”

They sit quietly. There’s no answer, but nothing can be said. The calm is needed, for all the fallen humans present, alive, or dead.

“You might not agree on what I’m doing, to an extent I don’t either, but it’s something that must be done to prevent this from happening again. No one else has to sacrifice their soul. I’ll make sure you won’t be forgotten,” Aofil promises. “You shouldn’t have suffered because of my twin, because of my curse. I’ll tell the people above what happened before I go, you have my word.”

Aofil puts a hand on their chest, “On my cursed soul I promise you,” and bows their head deeply. “I pray you find peace wherever you are now.”

After some respectful silence Aofil stands up again. With a final nod they head up the stairs again. The pot stands where Aofil left it, and they swoop it up. “All six forgive you,” they lie to the pot.

The throne room is as luscious and full of life as possible. The pot is quiet, but it’s understandable. In the middle sits two thrones. Strange. Even stranger is that there’s a bit of white fur in both of them.

“I don’t think she was happy sitting here again,” Aofil thinks out loud. “This human delegation must’ve been more important than I thought, and I was thinking it was pretty important. Explains why her pie was there in Asgore’s house though. I wonder where they split up?” The pot is silent. Aofil understands. “I gotcha, let’s continue.”

A room later Aofil can’t help but feel that something is wrong. “You’ve been quiet for a while now, Flowey.” They angle the pot so that some of the sparse light hits the opening. “You sure you don’t need any dirt?”

Aofil walks up to a light shaft beaming down from the ceiling. “We just left Asgore’s garden, I can just pop back and get some.”

The inside of the pot lights up, and is empty. Aofil barely remembers to halt it before they smack themselves in the face with the opening. “Flowey?” they yell as they look around inside the pot. Is he hiding in there? No, and how would he even?

“Flowey!” Aofil yells again.

But no one came.

Where did he escape? Did he go back to the Underground? Aofil turns around. Or did he go towards the Surface? But which? Aofil can’t decide, so they just run.

Turning the corner towards the Barrier, they spot him. Flowey’s in the middle of the room, the broken Barrier is just ahead. “Flowey? There you are,” Aofil sighs in relief. “Can’t just run away like that, we made a promise.”

“Promise?” Flowey asks, his voice echoing through the empty room. It’s shaky, and scared. Suddenly his head cocks violently, and he turns around slowly. As he spots his long lost best friend he smiles, but it’s reserved. He doesn’t know what to think. Chara just killed Sans, and here Flowey is standing in their way again.

“Flowey?” Aofil asks carefully to the twitching flower. “How are you feeling?”

Asriel’s face replaces Flowey’s. “See, Chara. I did as I promised, I helped you break the Barrier!” He nods frantically towards the white corridor where the Barrier once stood. “It’s gone now, we can just go, together. Just the two of us left, we don’t need the others. They were weak, right? I’m strong, I’ll be useful to you on the Surface.”

“Flowey,” Aofil carefully address as they walk up to Flowey. He moves back, keeping the distance constant. “Who am I? What just happened?”

“Y-you’re Chara, my best friend,” Asriel’s scared voice and smile says. “You just killed that hollow skulled skeleton, and I helped you kill Asgore just now, it’s why he wasn’t there. I’m sorry if you wanted to kill him yourself, but I figured that you would be a bit tired after that fight with the blue eyed idiot.”

His face tries desperately to hold back a worried frown. “I don’t mean that like you’re weak or something. By the way, the Barrier is,” Asriel’s face sinks into itself. “The Barrier is...” He turns around. “Gone?” His body starts shaking. “But how? When did it?”

Aofil sprints forward and catches Flowey off guard and rips him out of the ground. “Look at me! I’m not Chara. Asgore is alive, no one was killed. This isn’t genocide, Flowey. You’re confusing a previous reset with this one! What’s my name?”

Flowey’s face returns. “What? You’re Chara,” His eyes narrow, “No, Chara is dead. You’re...Aofil?”

Aofil nods. “Yes, that’s me. Chara isn’t here, they can’t hurt you. It was just me impersonating them, remember?”

“Yes? Something about bringing back Asriel?” he nods. “It was something about that, right?”

Aofil carries the confused flower to the pot. ”Yes, we’re on our way to the Above Lab to get me a soul.”

Flowey curls up once back in the pot. “This is what’s happening to all the other monsters and humans up on the Surface, Flowey,” Aofil explains. “Their memories about people they care for thrash around in their head.”

Flowey nods weakly.

“I know, and that’s why we need to do this. It’s why we need Asriel back. It should be a big enough change, like I was.”

“For me too?” Flowey asks after a scared sob.

“I hope so.”

Even though it’s nearly impossible to figure out any form of shape from the blinding white light, Aofil still feels that it’s smaller than before. There’s no magic residue on the floor. That’s clue one. Clue two comes in the form of an even larger banner welcoming the humans to the Underground with an arrow pointing towards the room Aofil just left.

“You feeling a bit better?” Aofil asks, being a bit taken back by the sincerity in their question.

“This is where I was a god, right?”

“Still a bit confused?”

“Was it here?” Flowey asks again.

“Yeah, it was. You and Frisk, child against child.”

“I wasn’t a child,” Flowey snarks. He pops out of the pot with an eager smile, “I was a god! Oh, you can’t believe the power I had. I was so cool!”

“But you were hugged to death,” Aofil whispers.

Flowey leans up against Aofil. “Care to repeat that?”

“From what I heard you looked kinda,” Aofil mimics a long and complicated thought, “the child definition of cool? Long horns,” Aofil drags a finger across their cheek while leaning the pot on their raised knee, “dark tattoos, sharp teeth. You know,” they laugh, “the edgiest thing imaginable?”

Flowey’s gaze could pierce the Barrier if it was still standing. “You’re just jealous. You wouldn’t have the creativity to come up with something that cool. Not that you would ever get the chance to have that form. You must be so jealous not having horns and fur. Is that why you had feelings for Toriel?”

“Mhm, if you say so, Flowey,” Aofil acknowledges with the least amount of care they can spare. “I’ll have you know,” they make a sweeping motion over their torso, “I’m fine with the way I am.”

Flowey lifts an eyebrow. “Wow, your standards are so low I’m surprised I didn’t trip over them in the Underground!” He rolls his eyes and leans back in the pot. “Idiot.”

Aofil breathes out their relief very carefully. Seems like they managed to avert Flowey’s memories this time. They should hurry, the sooner they get home and get his mind on something else, the better.

Flowey puts a leaf over his head as the late afternoon sun hits him right in the eyes. Aofil stops at the edge and inhales the mountain air. It’s a bit cooler than before. They jingle the pot. “You feel any different?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you’re a flower, so I would imagine seeing the sun for the first time.”

Flowey interrupts with a loud and sarcastic laugh. He crosses his leafs and extends his tongue at the sun. “So it’s a big fireball in the sky, whatever. I’m sure I did brighter magic when I fought Frisk.”

“Actually, it is not a fireball. Scientifically speaking it is a...” Aofil halts themselves. “Nevermind, you’ll appreciate it once you’re Asriel again.”

Flowey blows his lips. “Yeah, sure I will.”

Aofil takes another lungful of air before starting the descent. Once again they’re underneath the crowns obfuscating the dirt path leading down to their town. Only this time the town would freak out if they saw them return. The town is now cursed, just like Aofil. They tap the pot in thought. Flowey gives a perplexed look, but Aofil doesn’t pickup on it. Flowey picks up on Aofil’s furrowed brow though, but he decides not to say anything.

Aofil didn’t really think about it, but this might very well be their last descent down Mt. Ebott. Their last time walking underneath the green roof with just enough holes to create a mosaic of green light and shadows. They didn’t really think about it. They’re gonna miss it. After all that has happened, they’re gonna miss it.

“How long left?” Flowey laments with an impatient sulk. “Tell me it isn’t far.”

“Sunlight’s good for you,” Aofil reminds. “And it’s the first house coming up. The big red one.”

Flowey scratches his petals. “So, Chara lived here?”

Aofil nods. “Back before they fell.”

“It’s,” Flowey pauses for a second to think, “nice.”

The wooden gate opens silently. “Did Chara say anything about it?”

“No, not really. They didn’t really want to talk about the Surface.”

Aofil pats themselves for the key, but they don’t find it. “I had in my pocket when I left! Oh yeah,” Aofil realizes as their pants doesn’t have any pockets, “these are not my clothes.”

“You actually serious?” Flowey comments with eyebrows raised in surprise. “You are actually really and truly serious right now? I’ve heard of falling at the first hurdle, but we haven’t even gotten to the track!”

“We can get in through the back. The monster entrance, if you will.”

“You have an entrance just for monsters? In the back? That sounds racist, or even speciest.”

Aofil peeks around the corner just to be sure no one is sitting on their patio. “It’s through that window.”

“Definitely speciest,” Flowey remarks with a sigh of sarcastic disappointment.

After some troublesome stretching of Aofil’s clothes, and the subsequent laughter from Flowey, they’re finally home. Aofil moves to the table to set Flowey down, but is halted. The pot is dragged towards the basement, and forcing Aofil to follow. What is Flowey doing? How is he moving the pot? Magic, Aofil concludes.

Their steps kick up a bit of old dust on the creaky stairs leading down. Once they reach the cement floor the pull from the pot stops. It’s dark, Aofil didn’t manage to reach for the light switch at the top of the stairs.

“So,” Flowey hums, “could I ask to be someplace other than your creepy dungeon?” He turns around and Aofil’s question mark of a face looks back at him. “What? It is creepy, look at it!”

Aofil points to Flowey with a confused finger. “You dragged me here. I was about to set you down on the table, but you pulled me along down here.”

Flowey shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you stupid? How would I do that?”

“I dunno, magic?”

“True,” Flowey admits reluctantly, “but I don’t have it. The only one I know of is that big boned and lazy skeleton, and he was crushed under a rock.”

The pot seems lighter in Aofil hands, all of a sudden. Flowey looks down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not-” Aofil manages to say before Flowey and the pot are flung across the room. It hits something in the dark with a loud smash. Aofil turns around to run up the stairs, but the light turns on without them managing to get up a single step.

“What is this?” Flowey shouts in fear. “No, get me out of here!”

A hatch slams shut right in front of Flowey’s face. He bangs on the glass, but it doesn’t budge. He throws vines, thorns, pellets, everything he can at it, but it’s closed tight. A rumble is heard, and Flowey’s head darts around trying to deduce where the sound is coming from.

A small sign above the hatch bleeds out a red light.

“Extraction commencing,” it informs.

The metallic rumble is drowned out by Flowey’s screams of agony. His body convulses inside the compartment as different colored lightning spark at him. He pounds the glass with his vines, but Aofil hears nothing. Flowey’s face is in pure dread and horror. He screams, but no one hears it.

Aofil rushes towards the ominous shaped machine, but they’re tripped by an old carpet falling over. A deep chuckle catches their ears as they rotate to land on their healthy arm. They scramble on their knees and look up the stairs. Their heart skips a beat.

Two hands are raised above a melon shaped skull. “kept me waiting, heh?”


	54. To bake a prince

"i wouldn't do that if i were you. unless i wanted to throw everything away for giggles," Sans informs loudly and with a strict tone while making his way down the creaky stairs. "the procedure has already started, now we only have to wait."

He drags out an old felt chair with some effort from a pile of metallic pipes and tools. The wooden legs squeak as they scrape against the hard concrete floor. Sans removes the cover from it and makes himself comfortable.

"What the hell are you doing?" Aofil shouts, "What is this machine? Can't you see it's hurting him?" and points an angry finger at the hatch. "This is torture, stop it now!"

Sans shrugs. "can't."

"You don't know, or you don't care? You know what, doesn't matter," Aofil walks around the machine. Flowey follows them with his eyes. Aofil notices a faint glimmer of hope behind the scared and confused tears streaming down Flowey's face. "I'm stopping this, don’t worry."

"you got first class tickets for your brain, aof?" Sans asks as he repositions himself for more comfort, “because it sure ain't in your head right now. the extractor has already locked onto whatever speck of asriel left inside flowey. pulling the plug would mean doing it for flowey as well, and asriel, of course."

Aofil's hand halts on the cable leading from the machine into a nearby wall socket. Is it worth risking that Sans is bluffing? Is it worth risking all that's happened? They made a promise though, no one else dies.

“can’t make an asriel without cracking a few floweys,” Sans reminds. “we’re past the point of no return. this was the plan all along, remember? then again, we can always ask frisk to reset. sure, it will worsen the memory episodes of everyone involved, including you, but we always have another chance, right? i am kinda curious what will happen, to be honest.”

Aofil lets go of the cable. No, not worth it.

The glimmer of hope disappears from Flowey’s eyes as Aofil comes back into his view. Betrayal replaces the hope, then confusion, and at last, anger. He lunges against the hatch, his face morphing into Aofil’s, screaming silently.

Aofil can hear the anger though, and their head lowers as they squat down in front of the hatch. “I’m sorry,” they say. Sans is surprised over the amount of sincerity they meant.

Flowey slams a vine against the glass, but it barely comes into contact. Aofil can see his strength fading, like his entire being is loosening up, separating from itself. He doesn’t look whole anymore, not like a single being. It’s like the machine is trying to separate the flower from the soul, trying to organize the magic and the science. Remove the flower, leave the soul. Flowey looks at his fading vine, and he cries out without anyone to hear it as another colored lightning twists his drained form violently.

Again he begs with his eyes, his only way of communicating. His vision is blurry, and darkness is creeping in from the outskirts of his field of view. He tries to open them again, but he has no control of them.

The cover from the chair is dropped over the hatch. “you don’t want to see what happens next, trust me,” Sans informs to Aofil while returning to his chair. “it’s not pretty. a tip, by the way, stop making promises,” he sits down and places his hands behind his head, “they always end in someone dying.”

Aofil sighs and rubs their eyes. “What is happening to him, exactly?”

“take a step back, i’m sure you’ll recognize what this machine is,” Sans explains with his eyes closed. “alphys must’ve worked on this one during the previous resets since it was pretty much done when i appropriated it. too bad she didn’t have the time to make a manual, but i’m sure i have it figured out. just had to test it until it worked,” he shrugs. “par of the course. needed to know it throughout before its main guest.”

Sans was right, Aofil does recognize the machine. It’s a smaller size than the one in the Lab, but the form is the same. A metallic bovine skull, with thick and vibrating pipes breathing slowly. From a distance the white cover looks like an oversized handkerchief.

Aofil throws an accusing finger at Sans. “If you forced anyone else into that machine, Sans, I swear.”

He pulls down his shirt, exposing some cracked ribs pulsating quietly with white magic. Like scars, but on bone. “before you ask, yes, it hurts.” He lifts his shirt back up carefully. “if i’m lucky then healing magic will solve it. probably will, now that i think about it.”

Sans nods to another chair with some dusty boxes stacked on it. “we’re gonna be here for a while.”

The deep hum of the machine is sporadically interrupted by Aofil clearing the way for the chair, and then dragging it out next to Sans. The boxes on top of it is filled with notes with different handwriting. Aofil sits down in the chair, not giving the dust they disturb any thought. They find formulas and equations surrounding schematics of different parts of the machine as they flick through the pages. There’s a check mark next to the parts along with the word ‘tested’ written hastily. All except one, the part named ‘soul storage’.

Sans peeks over Aofil’s arm, “not a problem,” and rummages around in his pocket and pulls out a box. “got the memories right here.”

Aofil takes the box and weighs it in their hand. “Asriel’s?”

Sans takes it back, “yup,” and puts it away back in his pocket.

“When did Asriel have time to make that one, by the way?”

Sans taps the box with his fingers. “it only contains memory of him being a small child. as in, way before chara. toriel and asgore had it made. why they would want to relive their son’s earliest day from his point of view, i’ve no idea. my most logical guess is that they would give it to him when they died.”

“And now we’re using it for his second birth.”

Sans touches his chest gently. “poetic, isn’t it?

”Sure,” Aofil brow furrows. ”How did you get it?”

“frisk gave it to me, didn’t say how.”

“Mhm, and how are they doing?”

“haven’t seen them since the lab incident. to be fair, haven’t really looked for them,” Sans nods at the machine, “been busy.”

“So,” Aofil decides to change the subject, “Flowey won’t remember who Chara is when he’s Asriel?”

Sans returns the box into his pocket. “not a clue. my thinking was that we use the memories to give his soul something to latch onto so that it can grow.” He pats his chest on the spot where his rib was cracked. “but again, i’ve been wrong before.”

“Seems like we’re just rolling the dice on whether or not this will work? What with you not knowing anything?”

“frisk can always reset,” Sans says after a fake yawn.

“You sure?”

“i might have some lingering memories of something similar to this.”

Aofil massages their forehead with a tired hand and pinches the top of their nose. They breath through their teeth, “So,” and lets their hand fall over down onto their chin, “it didn’t work before?”

Sans kicks his legs up on a box. “still haven’t found any clues, so i still have none.”

“by the way,” he asks after a silent minute, “when did you grow a soul for flowey?”

“Not in the mood for your colorful analogies, Sans,” Aofil answers tired and annoyed.

“heh, colorful.”

Aofil leers at Sans. “I’m serious.”

He offers his hand. “hi, serious.”

Aofil ignores it. “How long did you work on this? When was the last time you saw anyone?”

Sans returns his hand as support behind his head. “it’s been awhile, not gonna sugarcoat it.” He snaps his fingers. “speaking of that, where’s mine?”

Aofil needs to think for a bit. “Your coat?”

“is it still stuck underneath that rock?”

“It’s at Gerson’s.”

“why would he want it, it’s not really a turtleneck. even if it was, doesn’t he have one of his own?”

Aofil pays no mind to the joke. “I needed something to keep me warm through Snowdin. You didn’t seem to need it at the time, so I took it. Oh, and I added to your tab at Grillby’s.”

Sans and Aofil look at each other for a second before Sans narrows one eye. “you did it as me? did you rip your skin off or?”

“No, I just identified that it was yours by the spots on your jacket. More importantly though, how did you survive a boulder being dropped on you?”

“the box under the one with the notes,” Sans motions with his hand.

Aofil unpacks it with a perplexed twist to their face, “Vacuum bags?” and turns to Sans with a confused expression. “From my vacuum cleaner?”

“mix it with some crushed crystals from the Waterfall and you get a bag of pretty convincing dust. easy to hide too. it itches something fierce though.”

Aofil sits down again. “Huh,” they say involuntary.

“your turn, what happened after our,” Sans coughs into his fist, “show?”

“I’d rather you tell me, Sans,” Aofil asks as they push away the dust box with their foot, “if you really thought I was Chara?”

“don’t take this the wrong way, but i honestly couldn't care less who you really are.”

“And did you really try and attack me?”

“if anything frisk could've reset if you died.”

“That’s comforting,” Aofil replies with an angry scoff.

“always is, isn’t it?”

“You think we did it before? The fight, I mean.”

Sans points to the ground, ”this one we’re having now,” and then towards Mt. Ebott, “or the one before?”

“I was mostly thinking about the one where you tried to kill me with beam magic,” Aofil retorts with tired sarcasm. “You know, that one fight that broke my arm?”

“you should have that checked at.” Sans leans back. “like i said, no idea. the important thing is that we convinced flowey,” and throws a lazy finger towards the humming and whirring machine at the other end of the basement, “and judging by the way that flowey is in there i’d say we succeeded.”

Aofil sighs deeply. “Had I known the price.”

“a meal at grillby’s for me,” Sans counts on his finger, “clothes, haircut, jewelry, arm,” before leaving just his index finger, which he tilts towards Aofil, “and, judging by your mood, a broken promise. not the best idea to befriend someone you intend on killing later.”

“We had another idea in mind, one that didn’t involve him dying.”

Sans jumps out of the chair. “now that you mention it, should probably check on how that’s progressing.”

Disgusted, Aofil shakes their head. “Really?” they mutter.

With a carefree whistle Sans walks over to the threatening machine and lifts the cover up slightly. His whistling dies down and he quickly drops the cover. Despite it being constantly on Sans’ face, Aofil sees that whatever he saw, it wasn’t anything to smile at. “it’s going,” Sans pauses and breathes through his clenched teeth, “well. don’t ask for details, please, for both our sake.”

He shudders. “so, what was your other plan?”

“You know about Above Lab?”

Sans pulls out an identification card with Alphys’ face on it. “i know a thing or two about it. some stuff from this timeline, some stuff from others.”

“Flowey proposed that maybe we should try and get Alphys to continue her research. Convince her using my broken soul, and have her fabricate a new one that Flowey would steal.”

Sans leans on his knuckles in thought. His brow sinks lower, and he mutters to himself. After a while he shrugs and sits back up. “gotta admit, could work.”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods towards the machine, “and we wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.”

“a mistake on my part then. i can admit that.”

“And I’m sure you’re so soulbroken, right?”

Sans nods. “yup, almost as much as yours is.”

“Then I guess my curse is healed!” Aofil exclaims. “Because your face is the same from when you dropped that bottle of ketchup, almost breaking it.”

“good to hear that your curse is healed,” Sans agrees, “but tell me, why should i care about the reason everyone is miserable? why should i care about flowey at all?”

Aofil raises an eyebrow. “Because we’re killing someone right now?”

“i’m not gonna cry over flowey. no one will.” Sans looks at Aofil, who’s eyes settle on the machine. He shakes his head in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. you’re sad about flowey? killer plant flowey? he who tried to take over the world, and almost killing everyone in the process?”

Aofil’s eyes returns to Sans with a vicious look. “Aren’t you monster proof enough that people can change? Why is he worth less than Asriel?”

“do you even hear yourself right now?” Sans blinks and his pupils vanish. “this is the complete opposite side you took during your grand declaration you made in the true lab. are you even yourself right now? which cursed twin am i talking to now? doesn’t seem to be the one i talked to in true lab.”

“Didn’t you say before that you couldn’t care less about who I was?”

Sans scoffs. “got me there, but i wasn’t done with my sentence. as long as you don’t put me or my friends in danger, i couldn’t care less.” He removes one hand from behind his hand and puts it on the armrest. “flowey isn’t going anywhere now. you might be his best friend now, but if you so much as make a move towards that machine I will do everything in my power to twist that broken arm of yours.”

“Is he even alive anymore?”

Sans pupils return and he leans back again. “last time i checked, no.”

“And who am I, in your eyes?”

“for everyone’s sake, you are aofil.”

“And yours?”

“aren’t i a part of everyone?”

Aofil shakes their head and burrows it in their hands. “This is such a goddamn mess. Everything is.”

With a tired sigh Sans cocks his head towards Aofil. “listen, aof, nobody asked you to do this. for what it’s worth, thank you for everything you’ve done. it’s just that,” Sans rubs the back of his head, “well, we’re so close. from what i know, this is the closest we’ve been to actually bringing the kid back, to actually having a solution to all this. i’ve had more time to mull over and coming to terms with this than you.”

“You weren’t the one that had to convince him either, actually get to know him,” Aofil adds, still with their exhausted head in their hands.

“that too,” Sans agrees with a wift of his hand, “but try and see things from my point of view. i’ve known about resets, i’ve known that even if i kill the murderous child, they’re just gonna reset, and eventually i will run out of tricks up my jacket. it was an inevitability. so, i tried a different method, i don’t know if i can explain what i did, because i’m not really sure what i did. but it worked, the genocide stopped, and us monsters were freed.”

Sans finishes with a small chuckle and turns to Aofil’s confused expression. “And how does this relate to Flowey?” they ask.

Sans lifts a finger, but stops midway. “i knew i had a point in there somewhere.” He shrugs it off. “whatever, i went a bit too much bad sans on you, and i’m sorry. i’m so close to just leave resets, anomalies, and potential genocide behind me. i’m so close not to see my brother go mad.”

The deep and heavy breathing of the machine stops, and both of them turn their head towards it. A silent second passes, before a gleeful ding echoes throughout the basement.

Aofil glares at Sans,. “Could really do without the microwave noise, Sans. That’s actually disgusting.”

Sans nods. “gotta have to agree with you on that. it was the only one i had handy.” Aofil’s glare goes nowhere. “ok ok, i’m sorry. let’s see how it turned out.”

Sans stops in his steps. “man, i shouldn’t really say anything more.”

The machine is still moving even after being shut off. Sans stops a couple of steps in front of it and ponders for a while. He reaches into his pocket and tosses the memory box to Aofil. “you hold onto this, i’ll open the hatch.”

“Any reason?”

“i don’t know if this is gonna blow up or not when i open the hatch. since frisk also made the promise that no one else would die they will try and reset if any of us die here. if you die, then your memories will be scrambled the next time we try and do this. if you’re alive and well aware what’s about to happen, maybe touch souls with frisk or something, then perhaps your head will stay clear.”

Aofil waves the box. “I was mostly asking why you threw it instead of giving it to me.”

“oh,” Sans recoils, “well, at least you now know the contingency plan.”

He puts his hand on the hatch handle. It sizzles and he jerks his hand back. “should’ve guessed that,” he berates himself. “ok, when i open this, catch the soul. should be simple enough since it isn’t whole.” He turns to Aofil. “you got it?”

Aofil bends their fingers over the delta rune etched on the lid and grip the edge. ”Ready.”

Sans chuckles to himself while preparing for a second attempt at the hatch. “heh, soul survivor.”

Aofil sighs.

With a loud and firm countdown Sans throws open the hatch and writhes in pain from his hand. A blinding white light fills the entire basement. Aofil covers their eyes with their arm.

“catch it!” Sans yells while caressing his hand.

“I can’t see it, it’s too bright!”

“call out to him,” Sans yells again while blinking against the bright object. He fumbles for it, but knocks over a pile of junk over him.

“Sans?” Aofil shouts back.

“no, him! call out to him!”

Aofil opens their eyes as much as they can. Through their eyelids they see a small form hovering just outside the hatch. “Asriel!” they call out. The white shape flutters to life and looks around, trying to find where its name was called from.

Tears form in Aofil’s eyes, but they’re determined to see this through. Finally, Asriel is here. They call out his name again, this time louder. “Asriel!” they call him again, feeling their soul filled with joy and hope. “Asriel, I’ll save you!”

The light blinds Aofil again as it nears them. They hold out the box, the cradle for his soul. The shape stops just before it, and bursts in.

Sans finally manages to get his vision back. “wow, and here i thought the sun was bright!” He shakes his head, and a small can falls off and hits the floor, rolling in under the now dormant machine. “tell me you got it, aof.”

He sees Aofil grasping the box with a shaking hand. “is asriel resisting?” Sans asks. “hm, we might have to put something heavy on the lid, just to be sure.”

He gives Aofil’s back a encouraging pat. “the worst is over, aof. good job.” He laughs in relief, feeling not an ounce of weight on his shoulder. “thank you, for everything.”

He notices that Aofil is holding the box with their broken arm. He picks it out of it without any resistance, “you alright, aof? asriel was too bright for you?” and gives it a bounce in his hand. “well too bad, his fur is gonna be white, and his smile is gonna be brighter. So,” he gives it another bounce, “wait, wasn’t he resisting just a moment ago?”

Aofil tries to speak, but they can only form sharp gasps. Sans pockets the memory box and swoops around Aofil. “aof, are you hurt?”

His eyes locks on Aofil’s other hand that’s covering their chest. He pries it off, just as a white aura is fading from Aofil’s chest. He turns Aofil’s hand in his, seeing a tuft of white fur growing from their palm. He meet’s Aofil’s eyes. “He missed,” they force out before clutching their chest again, straining in discomfort as their nails extrude outward, burrowing into their flesh.

“oh.”


	55. One plus one

"here, give me your arm.”

Sans helps a struggling Aofil to their chair. They sink into it, still clutching their chest and straining to breathe. Sans puts his arm on their shoulder. “aof, look at me."

They don’t answer, they’re in too much pain.

“aofil, look at me,” Sans tries again.

With great effort Aofil manages to lift their head up. "It burns, it's like I’m being pushed out from inside. What’s happening?"

Their black and long nails push against the skin on their head. It’s barely holding together. "Something's pushing against my skull!" Aofil shouts in panic, clutching their teeth against the pain. "Sans!"

Sans grabs the increasingly fur covered arm. "i’m here. move your hand," he says before doing it himself. Inquisitively he runs his hand over Aofil's head and parts their hair. Underneath it he feels two growths pulsating violently, and as he leans in to look closer the quivering skin starts glowing white. A pair of sharp and slim horns shoot out from the growths and Sans is forced to dodge them. He manages, but just barely. As he recoils back from the horns he stares at them in disbelief. “how?”

Aofil reaches up and their eyes widen in horror as their new fingers grab something above their head. “What?” they exclaim and swing their head around to see. The fabric on the back of the chair is ripped wide open and stuffing starts pouring out. Aofil stares at the hole torn open and again puts their hand over their head. “I did that?” Not only do they feel the rough bonelike and angled back spurts emanating from their head, they feel it through a layer of hair, but not on their head. They put their hand in front of their face again.

Long black nails have replaced their human ones, and their entire hand is covered in glistening white fur. Their arm still shows skin, but the snowy hair is slowly enveloping it. They form a fist with their hand, and open it slowly. It feels strange, alien to them. It’s a part of them, but it isn’t them. It doesn’t feel the same, and it hurts. It’s not theirs, why is it like this?

They look at Sans, pleading for an answer, “What’s happening to me?” but suddenly their vision fades from them. Frantically they wave their pelted hand in front of them. “I can’t see!”

Sans meets their eyes, and after Aofil grunts in pain again, he sees that they’ve changed as well. Aofil blinks and tries to adjusts themselves their new vision. Everything’s blurry for them, they can barely see anything. They close their eyes and feel the skin around their eyes stretch. After it stops they open them again and their vision finally manages to find focus.

Sans catches a glimpse of them under Aofil’s fringe, and he instinctively takes a step back as he sees the angled and dark eyes looking back at him. They turn soft after a second, and again Aofil begs for help. “Sans?” they ask before biting themselves on their lips. Two fangs have grown from their upper jaw, and is now resting uncomfortably on their lips.

“i, i don’t know what to do,” he stutters out, “but we’ll figure this out, i promise.”

They both look at each other in silence.

“It hurts!” Aofil cries. “It all hurts!” they cry again, with another voice. It’s deeper, more gravely. “Make it stop!”

Pained growls rumble inside Aofil chest, and a shock is sent out throughout their entire body. They roar in agony as they feel their entire body tense up from it. They grab their chest. “Out!” they roar while focusing all their strength.

A pink shines fills the room as they draw out their soul.

Sans walks up slowly, struggling to believe his eyes. “impossible,” is the only word he can say.

Caressed between two completely fur covered hands is a red soul, with shards of white filling in the cracks present throughout it. It’s pulsating quietly, and the shadows cast by the long fingers and nails around it dance with each beat. Aofil tilts it towards Sans. “He missed,” they say again, just now realizing the deep and feral tone present in their voice.

Sans nods. “he missed.”

Aofil massages their throat, but the overwhelmingly strange feeling of fur and their new form forces them to stop. They return their eyes to the new soul that is theirs. They remove one hand and tries to come to terms with it before extending a careful finger towards the white of their soul. They touch it.

Another voice screams in their head, and they clutch it with both their hands. "Quiet! Stop crying!” they scream. Their soul cowers back into their chest as they wry from the scream. “Shut up!”

“aof, what’s happening?”

“No!” Asriel shouts as he sees the one that couldn’t stop Chara coming after them. “Get away!”

He stands up and knocks the chair against him. It tumbles towards Sans and he sidesteps it in the last moment. The chair smashes into the pile of pipes and parts, and Aofil snaps their head towards the sound.

Asriel remembers the sound, the crashing sound from when he fought Frisk. The bombs he threw against them.

“No!” he shouts to scare away the memory. “I’m not Flowey!”.

Aofil grabs their head, “Out!” and tries to shake away the memory, causing their long ears to flop against their burning cheeks.

“aof, calm down!” Sans yells. “focus, you’re fusing with asriel!”

“No, I’m not him,” Aofil looks at their hands. “I’m not them!”

“aof,” Sans finally manages to catch their attention. He nods carefully and waves his hands carefully. “sit down, use my chair.”

“Where’s Chara?”

“aof, don’t think. just sit down in the chair. you too, asriel.”

They both nod in agreement, and sit down. Their horns get caught at the top of the back of the chair and they bite their lips with their fangs. They dry it off with their hand, leaving a couple of white strands in the wound. They recoil back in panic. “Blood!”

The pain comes surging back. The faces, the screams. Chara’s angry screaming inside their head as they finally managed to take control. The small child that lay still among the flowers. Their cracked soul hovering above their lifeless form.

No, that doesn’t make sense. How could they be attacked, and attack at the same time? “It’s impossible!” they shout as they look around. “I need to find Chara!”

“chara’s dead.”

Asriel’s eyes sink. “No.”

Aofil shakes their head again, desperate to get it back under their own control. “Yes, they’re dead!” they scream to Asriel inside them.

“we’re on the surface, your name is aofil, and asriel is fusing with you. sit down again,” Sans explains sternly while pushing Aofil down in the chair again.

“Where’s mom and dad?” Aofil asks. “I mean Toriel and Asgore!” They cough as something pounds inside their head. “I mean, mom!” They put one hand up against their forehead, “No, Toriel!”

“mom is not here, asriel. neither is asgore, aofil.”

A quiet creak catches Aofil’s ear. They look up the stairs. “Frisk?”

The child doesn’t answer.

Aofil and Asriel stand up. “Frisk?”

Still no answer.

With a small gesture of Sans’ hand Frisk is pushed back and the door is closed. “aofil, asriel, sit down,” he advises again carefully.

Both Aofil and Asriel ignore him, and with unsteady legs, they walk up the stairs.

“you need to stay here, you can’t be seen like this. that goes for the both of you,” Sans tries desperately to convince, feeling the despair that was lifted from him crawling back up on him. “we need to figure this out.”

Aofil rattles the handle, but Sans holds it close. Asriel releases it and tenses their hand. A orange glow flickers to life and a crackling ball of fire forms within their grasp. They throw it against the lock, and it explodes. Sans grunts in pain, and the door swings open. The horns scrape against the top of the door frame as Aofil and Asriel walk out together into the sunfilled hallway.

Their new eyes stings, and both feel confused, and relieved by the warmth of the sun. They turn the corner and find Frisk sitting on the sofa with their head in their hands. The child squeal in fear as they spot the amalgamate walking up to them.

“No, it’s me, Asriel, Aofil,” they stumble as their head starts spinning. “Asri- Aofi-” they slur. They take strain against the wall with their hand, scraping the wood again with their claws. “Save us,” they beg before collapsing heavily on the floor. Their vision again darkens, and they fail to muster enough strength to stand up.

A breeze ruffles their fur, it feels very uncomfortable. Sans squats down into their reduced sight. “got me pretty good there. it hurts a bit,” he coughs out while putting his hand into his pocket. “listen, asriel, you’re not supposed to be in there.” He pulls out the memory box. “and aofil, you’re not supposed to be in here,” he places the box on the floor, “but this is only thing i can think up right now.” He grabs the lid. “good luck in there, both of you.”

A heart monitor beeps rhythmically. Asriel squirms in his mother’s arm, and a gentle hand brushes his ear. “Aren’t they beautiful, dear?”

Asgore leans over the edge of the hospital bed. His beaming smile outshines the sun gushing in from a nearby window. He brushes away the hair covering his wife’s face, and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Our royal heir. I’m so proud of you two.”

“Well, they are half your fault, so.”

“Citizen of the Underground,” Asgore proudly announces, “join me in this celebration.”

Asriel looks over to the other package of cloth and towels containing their twin. They reach out with their paw towards them.

“I know, they are so cute,” his mother laughs lovingly, “I was thinking,” and bumps Asriel carefully with her nose. Asriel retracts his arm. No, this isn’t his mom, it’s a human, “that this one would be Aofil. And this one, Chara.”

In a blink the hospital room vanishes, and a grand castle balcony replaces it. The distant sound of a large crowd talking with excited voices catches Aofil’s ears. They’re loud, Aofil doesn’t like it. With a whimper they squirm in their mother’s arm.

“There’s nothing to worry about, my child,” Toriel calms with a with a careful finger. “Isn’t he beautiful, dear?”

Their dad leans over Toriel’s shoulder. “Yes, they both are.” He gives Toriel a peck on the cheek. “Can’t believe you grew two of them,” he smiles out.

“Finally, he is now heir,” Toriel chuckles before returning the peck.

Aofil’s dad walks up to the podium and stretches out his arms with pride. “Look at their cheeks, I love them,” he whispers into the microphone.

No, wait, Toriel isn’t their mom, and why are they in the Underground? This isn’t right!

Asriel wakes up in the middle of the night to Chara tugging at his cover. He sits up. “What is it?” he asks while rubbing his eyes.

Chara beckons Asriel to lean in closer. They put up a hand up to Asriel’s ear. “Aofil, have you heard of the legend of Mt. Ebott?”

Asriel recoils back. “Legend?”

Chara nods. “I heard the pastor talk about it a couple of days ago. There’s an Underground filled with monsters, and magic! We could find a cure!”

Asriel looks around, this isn’t his room. It’s not even his house. And why is Chara here? He looks down, why is he here?

Chara runs back to their bed as faint footsteps close in from the other side of the door. Asriel sees some shadows move past the space underneath between the door frame. After a silent whisper from the other side of the door the shadows walk away, and Chara sneaks back to Asriel’s bed. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Asgore nods with a smile and closes his book. “Tomorrow we’ll have our picnic, my son.”

Aofil lets go of the long and purple mantle they’ve wrapped their fingers around. Asgore laughs warmly, and bends down to pick them up. “You’re excited, I can tell.”

Aofil looks around. They’re in Asgore’s throne room. But how? And why can Asgore carry them? They look down. Why are they a child?

“Scared, Asriel?” Asgore asks and tilts Aofil’s head up. He smiles again, and gives Aofil a hairy kiss on their forehead.

“How are the first and third best men of my life doing?” Toriel teases with a chuckle as she makes her way around Asgore.

Asgore leans his muzzle towards her and they rub it together. “Now I’m curios who number two is,” he mumbles playfully.

Toriel flicks Asgore’s horn. “A queen has her secrets.”

He raises an eyebrow in return. “Does she now?”

“Perhaps,” she winks to Aofil, “like what I’m making for our picnic tomorrow.”

Aofil’s scared expression shifts between the two boss monsters. What are they talking about?

“Scared, Asriel?” Toriel asks with the softest eyes she can muster. “Don’t worry, my child. Who knows, maybe you’ll make a new friend?”

“Chara!”

They turn around. “What is it, Aofil? We have to hurry!”

Asriel looks around confused. Where is he? He catches a glimpse of the mountain looming over him and Chara, and takes a step back in fear.

Chara grabs his hand and drags him along towards the intimidating mountain. With every step Asriel feels it crashing over him more and more. “Let’s go,” Chara whispers loudly. “They are both still sleeping, but we have to hurry before they wake up.”

Asriel jerks their hand back. “Chara?” he asks his human twin.

“What’s happening?” Aofil asks their monster parents.

“This is,” Asriel continues.

“Not real!” Aofil ends.

The world turns dark. There’s no wind, no sound. No ground, no ceiling. Just the void, as far as they can see.

Aofil turns around, and faces themselves. They look down at their striped sweater, and at their white paws. They look up, and see a small goat child looking at their paws. They see that they were also looking at their hands.

“Aofil?” Asriel asks to himself with Aofil’s human mouth.

“Asriel?” Aofil asks themselves with Asriel’s monster mouth.

“Why are you me?” Asriel wonders with fear while rubbing Aofil’s arm. Aofil’s body shudders as the feeling of skin doesn’t sit well with Asriel.

Aofil can’t really fathom that they need to look up to meet their own eyes. There also this long and white muzzle covering their view. “I don’t-” They grab Asriel’s throat and accidentally poke themselves with a claw. Talking with a more childish voice than they’re used to, it doesn’t really do them any favors right now. They cough, but it doesn’t really help. “I don’t know, Asriel.”

“It feels really weird hearing me say my name-” Aofil’s voice starts.

“But not talking to me,” Asriel’s voice ends.

Aofil touches their nose. “OK, good. We switched-”

And continues holding their claw on Asriel’s muzzle. “Back to our own bodies.” They remove it, “Wait,” and look down. “Dammit!” they bleat out.

Asriel is visibly shaken hearing his voice swear, and bleat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” Aofil apologizes. They run their palms over Asriel’s cheeks and blow through their own lips. “OK, first things first, let’s see if we can stay as ourselves.”

Aofil nods as themselves, “What I’m thinking is,” before lowering their upraised claw and sighing deeply. “This is really getting on my nerves.”

“You said you had an idea, Aofil?” Asriel asks carefully. “If not, then I think I might have one.”

“No, forget it,” Aofil shakes Asriel’s head, and an ear flops on his muzzle, blocking Aofil’s sight. They sigh again. “Shoot, let’s hear your idea instead.”

Asriel removes his ear from his muzzle. “Close your eyes, and think about yourself. Think about who you are, and who I am. Try to remember that we are two, and then try and separate us.”

Aofil closes Asriel’s eyes, and Asriel closes Aofil’s eyes. Trying to make two out of one, they focus hard on what’s human, and what’s monster. Silent, they stand opposite each other, trying to figure out who they really are. They are fused in soul, but not in mind. That’s where they are separate, that’s where they are two. They both think about how they feel, what makes them an individual. They breath in as one, and breath out as two.

Aofil opens their own eyes, not monster eyes, not amalgamate eyes. They feel it, it’s their own eyes. “I think it worked?”

“I can’t see,” Asriel stutters out in light fear while waving in front of him aimlessly.

Aofil stiffens a laugh. “You have my hair, that’s why. Sorry, that might’ve been me. Give me a second.”

Aofil imagines their hair on their head, and Asriel’s on his head. They open their eyes again, and nod in comfort as Asriel twirls his tuft with a smile.

“So,” Aofil starts while squeezing their hands. It feels good only feeling skin on skin, “how did you figure that trick out?”

Asriel rubs his own arm this time. “I’ve had experience with this sorta thing before.”

“You and Chara?”

He nods with a quivering mouth. “Yes,” he interrupts himself with a loud sniffle, “and when,” and another, “and when I absorbed all the souls,” before looking at Aofil, and breaking down into tears. “And now I’m a parasite in your soul! It’s not fair to you! Why do I keep doing this?”

Aofil hastily rushes up to Asriel. “No, no, no, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

Asriel pushes away Aofil and turns around. “I should just disappear, give you your mind and soul back.”

Aofil spins him back. “Asriel, listen to me,” but Asriel lets his eyes wander. “Asriel,” Aofil grabs his chin and turns it back, “we’re gonna figure this out, you and me. We’re both together now, but we’ll figure out how we’ll be two again. I can’t have my form be what it is right now, and neither can you. We’re in this together, literally.”

“You seem so,” Asriel dries his muzzle with the arm of his sweater, “sure about this. The last something like this happened to me, I died, and Chara too.”

“This is different, I think.” Aofil helps dry off Asriel’s eyes. “Besides, I’ve had experience with this sort of thing as well, you know. And you helped me, remember?”

Asriel nods weakly before failing to keep in another loud sob.

“Hey now, if I can come back from being dead, then so can you.” Aofil stands up, “Now,” and offers Asriel a friendly and helpful hand, “let’s see if we can find anything.”

“Which way?”

Aofil surveys the infinite dark around them. “I don’t know.”

Asriel looks around as well, but he doesn’t see anything either. He still takes Aofil’s hand, and squeezes it in his.

“So, which way?”

“You want me to choose?” Asriel asks with a confused look.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Asriel points into the void. “This way?”

Aofil nods. “Sure.”

They both walk together, but separate, into the unknown.

Despite feeling that time doesn’t happen, Aofil can still feel Asriel getting heavier and heavier. They finally stop and squat down again. “You want to sit on my shoulders?”

Asriel nods, and climbs up on Aofil’s back, swinging his legs over their shoulders.

“By the way,” Aofil asks as they tilt their head up to meet Asriel, “what did you see?”

Asriel leans over and meets Aofil. “See?”

“Yeah, I think I saw when Toriel and Asgore made the announcement to the Underground that you were born. There was also something about a picnic, I think?”

Asriel ponders for a second. “I saw a human, and I felt that she was my mother.”

“Really?” Aofil thinks. “Now that I think about it, I felt the same about Toriel and Asgore being my parents.”

“I remember her being it,” Asriel continues, “but the human couldn’t be my mom, because Toriel is.” He lifts a finger, and scratches his head, “I also saw Chara, but they were a baby. My twin.”

Aofil stops walking. “Wait, you saw Chara being a baby?”

“I was also a baby, I think. What if I were you?”

“And I was you?”

Asriel shrugs. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“Did you see something else?”

“I saw Chara planning on going up Mt. Ebott with you.”

After a moment of furrowed thinking Aofil resumes their walking. “Strange.”

Asriel cocks his head, and his ear flops down on Aofil’s face. Aofil nods it away. “Strange?” he asks.

“Because I don’t remember it.”

“Strange,” echoes another voice from all around, “if you don’t remember,” before converging behind Aofil and Asriel, “then why am I here?”

Aofl and Asriel turn around to meet the voice.

A crooked smile emerges from the shadows underneath a low hanging fringe.

“Greetings.”


	56. Dinner for three

Aofil smacks their lips, "Nope," and turns back around from the grinning child.

The grin fades from Chara, and they raise a confused eyebrow. They throw out their hands. "Wait, what? What do you mean, 'nope'?"

Aofil shoots a look over their shoulder. "Are you gonna help us find a way out?" Chara hesitates an answer, and Aofil nods. "Then nope."

"Chara?" Asriel asks with an unsteady voice. "Why are you here?"

"Asriel-" Chara starts, before being angrily hushed by Aofil.

"Asriel," Aofil starts instead with a snap in front of his muzzle. He recoils from the sudden sound, and looks down to Aofil. "We're in our head, not in our soul. The memory box, remember?" Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder. "It's just a memory. Let's focus on-"

"Asriel!" Chara shouts, rumbling the void with their roar. "We still have a plan to do! Come on!"

Aofil steadies their grip on Asriel's ankles. "Look forward, ignore them.”

“We made a promise, Asriel!”

“The monsters are already free,” Aofil answers, not bothering to turn their head. “Asriel owes nothing to you. Go away.”

Aofil feels Asriel wanting to turn around. They squeeze his legs, but it doesn’t help. “C-Chara?” he whimpers out.

“Eyes forward, Asriel!” Aofil demands.

“Maybe they can help us? I mean, we don’t know where we are going,” Asriel tries to convince while starting to worm himself out of Aofil's grip.

“Whatever good has Chara done to you?" they reply. "It’s because of them that we are here to begin with, it’s because of them that you died!”

“Because I wasn’t strong enough,” Asriel whispers.

“That’s Flowey talking, Asriel, not you. He’s dead now, forget about him.”

“They are the same!” Chara spits back from just behind Aofil. “Asriel, with me we’ll become strong! We’ll free the monsters, together.”

“The Barrier is broken, the monsters have returned to the Surface!” Aofil retorts viciously, still not giving Chara their eyes. They feel Asriel shaking from the stress, and they fear he might try and weasel himself out of their grip even more. They can’t let that happen.

They reach up and grab his muzzle. “You turn around, and Chara will take over. Flowey will come back, and all of this will be for nothing!”

“Aofil, it hurts,” Asriel whimpers, but Aofil keeps their hand steady.

“Our promise isn’t done, Asriel, not even close. The Barrier might be broken, but that was only step one. Monsters can never be free so long as humans still pester this world!”

“They're just something our memory has conjured up, Asriel!" Aofil tries again, feeling Asriel’s head turn despite their grip on it.

A loud cough stops Aofil in their step. Their hands loosen from Asriel's ankle and head, and he almost falls over.

As he scrambles back up using Aofil’s hair he notices a faint shine on it. Light! A scared bleat shoots out from him, and again he almost falls off Aofil’s shoulders. “A house?” He blinks at it. “Wait, this is your house, Aofil, right? Yours and-”

“Put me down!”

A jolly whistle ignores Chara’s protests and flailing. It opens the creaking gate and proceeds up the stairs to the front door. The man turns around, being careful not to hit Chara on the door frame. “You two coming?” he shouts to the two perplexed figures standing just outside the wooden gate.

“Aofil?” Asriel asks the frozen statue holding him up. “What’s happening? What are we doing?”

“It’s just a memory, they’re not real,” Aofil explains to themselves. “If they are real, then Chara is as well. Can’t risk that.”

“You’re not a vegetarian, right, Asriel?” wonders a woman from a window. “Aofil still isn’t sure, even though Toriel ate lamb right in front of them.”

“To be fair, she was pretty liberal with the wine.” The man chuckles out as he halts with one foot already inside the house, still with Chara mumbling angrily in his arm. “I don’t think Asriel would like a salad though, since he would be eating his previous self then.” He tilts his head around. “Isn’t that even worse?” he shouts to Asriel.

Asriel tries to catch Aofil’s attention, “Aofil? Should I answer him?” but fails.

A loud and theatrical sigh escapes an upstairs window. “Souls and memories are connected, Aofil,” their brother reminds with a snark. “And I’m pretty damn sure Frisk is doing stuff with your soul, like they did before.” He snaps a finger towards Chara. “Though I’m not sure if that brat is from your memory, Asriel’s memory, or Frisk’s soul. Heck, maybe they are from Asriel’s or your's soul?”

Asriel’s eyes widen in fear. “Wait, what if Chara is controlling us while we’re in here?” He takes Aofil’s head in his hands and shakes it “We have to wake up now! If Chara is controlling our body...”

“I would reduce this house into firewood!” Chara cackles. “Show you what real determination looks like!”

“Hm,” Aofil’s dad ponders, “you’re leaning towards being from Asriel’s soul.” He smiles and ruffles Chara’s hair, much to their dismay, “You’re still my child though.”

“No! I’m not!” Chara roars. “I’ll never forgive you for cursing me!”

“And that’s from Aofil’s memory and or soul,” Aofil’s mom adds.

“Yuck!” the brother remarks loudly. “I don’t want an amalgamate in my house.”

“It was mine before it was yours!” Chara snaps back at him, their fringe swaying, exposing their murderous eyes and angry scowl.

“Haha,” the brother snaps another finger with a cheeky wink, “got you to admit.”

“Shut up!”

The self satisfied laughter and furious huffing stops.

Asriel slowly removes his hands from his ears. “Aofil, you OK?” he asks carefully.

Asriel is almost thrown off as Aofil takes sudden step forwards. “Are you from my soul, or are you from my memory?” they shout to the house.

“Um,” their dad starts, “I don’t know. I think we only know what you know, but as your brother said, they’re both connected.”

Aofil massages their forehead. "Were you real back before?"

Their dad breathes through his teeth. "Again, we only know what you know, so."

“Isn’t it better if we try and sort this out over dinner?” Aofil’s mom proposes. “You’re invited as well, Asriel. You’re family.”

“In the sense that he’s Chara’s adopted brother, or that he and Aofil are the same?” Aofil’s brother ponders while failing to hold back a smile. "Anyway, guess I have to teach you how to lockpick, Asriel!"

Aofil’s mom shoots the brother a furrowed glare. “Guess we now know who’s doing the dishes afterwards.” Her eyes soften as she moves them to Aofil and Asriel. “You two come whenever you feel like it.”

Aofil’s dad readjusts his grip on Chara as they try to wiggle their way out of it. “This is still about them, and not you, Chara. You can help set the table meanwhile if you’re bored.”

The door is closed, and Chara’s loud protests dies off. Aofil stands in place though, not knowing what to think, or what to do.

“You have a nice family, Aofil,” Asriel says after a silent minute.

“Is it really them, or are they just my memory?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Well, yeah, but the entire reason that we are in here to begin with is memories. The reason everyone is hurting. It’s because of memories that I had to almost die, again.” Aofil throws their hands against the house. “I mean, look at this. A house in the middle of literal nowhere, with my dead family inside inviting me to eat with them. It’s just...it has to be a memory! That’s why I’m hesitant, because memories have done nothing good for us.”

“But,” Asriel taps Aofil on the head, “it’s also because of them that I’m here, right?”

Aofil shrugs. “I suppose? Still though, I already have one family dinner that I’m debating whether or not it was real. I don’t know if I want another on my mind.”

“Don’t worry,” Asriel smiles warmly, “this time I’ll be here to share the burden with you.”

“Asriel.”

He rubs his arm, “It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done for me. Besides,” and grabs it in embarrassment. “I kinda want to meet Chara’s parents. They didn’t really talk much about them, and now that I have the chance. I’m also a bit hungry.”

Aofil looks at their house, their home. The house that cursed them, and the house that nourished them. Shadows walk back and forth behind the lit window, shadows they recognize.

“Also,” Asriel continues, “you deserve to sit down for a while, Aofil. I’m not gonna be intrusive, if you don’t want me to follow, then I’ll wait for you here.”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, I need you with me, to help me get through this. We're in this together.”

Asriel catches a smell in his muzzle. “Wow, that smells really good.”

Aofil takes a sniff, “Yeah,” and makes their way towards the inviting house, “it really does.”

“Shoes off, Aofil. And could I ask you to just brush off your feet, Asriel?” asks a warm and motherly voice from the kitchen. Aofil's mother leans in from the kitchen. “It’s so good to finally meet you, Asriel,” she smiles. It melts into a worried frown as Aofil’s mom notices Asriel rubbing his muzzle. “Oh no, dear. Does it hurt?”

Asriel nods weakly while trying to hold in a small sob. Aofil’s mom dries her hands on a towel and beckons for Asriel to meet her halfway. She opens the freezer and puts some ice in the towel. She ties a knot to hold it together and places it gently on Asriel’s muzzle. His muzzle wrinkles. “Sorry if it smells a bit of garlic,” another warm smile apologizes. She nods to Aofil. “And speaking of apologizing.”

“Mom.”

“It wasn’t nice of you, however necessary you might’ve deemed it. I think an apology is in order.”

Aofil agrees, they went a bit rough on the kid. “Sorry, Asriel. I didn’t think clearly.”

Asriel nods. “It’s OK, you kept me from looking at Chara.”

“Speaking of your twin, Aofil, they should be in the dining room. Why don’t you and Asriel join them? I feel like you both have some things to talk about with Chara. Dinner will be ready in a bit.”

Aofil looks up the stairs. “What about sis and bro?” they ask the upper floor.

Their mom puts a soft hand on their shoulder, it’s heavy. “Aofil, they will not be joining us.”

Aofil spins around in a flash. “What?” They search their mother’s face for any clue that she’s lying, but they don’t find anything. It’s cold as stone. “Didn’t you say we were invited to a family dinner.”

“Not your family,” informs a voice from upstairs. Aofil’s brother’s head pokes out while nodding towards the goat, “his.”

“You know you can’t come down here,” Aofil’s mother reminds him, her voice filled with remorse about having to turn away a child of hers. “Remember, they need to stay focused if they’re to get out of here.”

“Which is why I’m telling Aofil why, so that they don’t have to guess,” the brother retorts. “Listen, Aof, I’m gonna help our sister with her homework up here, you and Asriel get your heads and souls sorted out, and we’ll come down and say goodbye. Sounds good?”

“We’ll be back down to say goodbye to you, Aofil,” their sister assures, peeking out from under her brother’s legs.

“But,” Aofil shakes their head in anger, “if this is all about Asriel, then why aren’t we in New Home? Why are we on the Surface, and not in the Underground?” they protest angrily. “This doesn’t make sense!”

A hard tap on their own skull has them grunting.

“It’s your head, Aof, and therefore you set the scene," their brother explains with a soft motion of his hand. "Makes perfect sense, for us being in your jumbled head, that is.”

Aofil’s mother waves the brother and sister away with a hand struggling to hide its grief. “Children, upstairs,” her conflicted smile asks again, still with the same warmth as before, “these two need their time to think and work things out between them.”

The siblings nod, and wave goodbye to Aofil. They wave back with a tired hand, and smile.

Aofil’s mother wipes away a tear in her eye. “Good luck, you two.”

Aofil and Asriel nod, and Asriel accepts Aofil’s outstretched hand for the second time.

“She doesn’t know how to make snails, so why even bother?” Chara mumbles to themselves as Aofil and Asriel sit down on the opposite side of the table. They twists their lips. “What do you want?”

“Are you real, or a memory?” Aofil starts. “Is Frisk doing stuff with our combined soul?”

Chara shrugs and blows their lips. “Like I would tell you.”

“Your tone is a bit different than the last time we talked.”

“I think it’s my fault they’re like this,” Asriel admits. “I think it’s my memory of them.”

Chara rolls their eyes. “Always the crybaby. What if I’m real, what are you gonna do about it? What if I’m in control of your combined body right now?”

Aofil raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Chara counters with one of their own, “Yes,” and rolls their shoulder. “It’s really stiff though, I might have to take it slow to begin with.”

Aofil hardens their gaze. “So how come you can sit here and talk with us?”

Chara waves their fingers, “Magic,” before throwing them against Aofil sarcastically, “that’s how.”

Aofil furrows their brow. “Prove it.”

A knowing smile grows on Chara’s lips. “Hold your hand up, both of you.”

Aofil looks at Asriel, and then back at Chara.

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted proof.”

With a defeated sigh Aofil raises their hand, and Asriel follows shortly after.

“Three, two, one,” Chara counts down.

Aofil and Asriel both grunt loudly in pain as Chara reaches zero. They both look at their hands that’s shaking in pain.

Chara lowers their hand with a chuckle. “Three guesses who you just got hit in his smiling and stupid skull. Your fingers should feel rough as well since they're now covered.”

Asriel looks horrified at his hand. “In w-what?”

Chara rubs their finger and thumb together and blows on them. “Dust.”

Aofil takes strain with their other arm on the table, and lunges themselves across it. They grab Chara’s collar, and drags them back across on the tablecloth. Plates and glasses fall down and crash against the hardwood floor.

“And here I thought you would’ve appreciated me setting the table for you,” Chara smiles smugly. “Look, now the plates look like your soul.”

Aofil wrings them closer. “How do we get out of here?”

Asriel tucks at Aofil’s shirt. “Aofil?” he asks with a somber sob. Aofil ignores it, they ain’t letting Chara go.

“Is this how you treat your long lost twin?” Chara blinks with a pair of puppy eyes summoned to annoy Aofil. “Didn't you have a change of mind when you preached for me in the True Lab?”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned is that I only know one thing about you, and that is that you made your choice, and died because of it.” Aofil pauses to catch their breath. “It gives you no right to linger on. Especially not like the parasite you are right now.”

“Why are you talking to me?” Chara turns their head to Asriel, “Wasn’t all this about you, Asriel?” but shoots a glance back at Aofil. “Why can he linger on? Isn’t he also a parasite?”

Asriel’s head sinks into his paws.

Chara smiles. “See, he even admits it. I’m a part of him just as much as he’s a part of you. So whatever thing you and Asriel are gonna talk about, I’m gonna be here.”

“Give us back our body,” Aofil snarls viciously. ”Now!”

“You and Asriel fused into something more powerful than what he and I did, and the first thing you did was attacking a door,” Chara knocks Aofil’s hand away with relative ease, “and then faint, as you always do. Your soul couldn’t handle the amount of determination, like it never could.” Black ooze starts pouring out of Chara's grinning mouth and piercing eyes. “Good thing Frisk was there to be the angel they always are, right? Keep you two weaklings alive while you struggled to adapt to your new soul.”

The room grows darker around Chara, creaking menacingly as their shadow absorb the light around it. “A soul stronger than the legend could ever predict, a soul that can lay waste to everything if it wanted to. It just needs someone to control it, to make it their own.”

Chara grasps their chest, and pulls out their soul. A red soul, with its cracks filled with pieces of a white soul. “Good thing I had a vacant place for it. The determination pouring out of it is infinite. It just needs someone that doesn’t stand in its way.”

A large hand leans in from the darkness, and with a flick of its finger the soul flies out of Chara’s grasp, and into the burning fireplace. It pops like a small balloon, and the shadows enveloping the room gives way to the warm crackling of the colorful fire left behind by the soul.

“Again, still not about you, Chara,” Aofil’s dad reminds, and puts Chara back in their chair. “And look at this mess you made!”

Chara stares at the fireplace with their jaw on the floor. They reach out for it, but their hand is swatted down. “How? But?” they mumble. Aofil and Asriel are just as perplexed, if not more.

“Third one is here now,” Aofil’s dad announces. “Time to sort things out so that you can get out of here, and start thinking about how to separate.”

Chara blinks at him. “But, I was here first? I was here before Aofil and Asriel.”

“I feel like I’m repeating myself, but that’s because I am. This is still not about you, Chara,” Aofil's dad informs through a tired sigh. He places a pot down on the table that he was carrying under his arm, and removes his hand from the yellow flower in it.

The plant spits and coughs dramatically before crossing its leafs. “Idiot human with his idiot spade,” it mumbles, “didn’t even get me a good pot.”

Flowey’s petals perk up as he and Asriel lock eyes with each other. “What?” they say in unison.

Flowey runs his eyes up and down Asriel, “Is this a joke?” and swirls his head to Aofil. “You’re kidding me? Why is the crybaby here?”

Aofil can’t produce an answer.

Asriel can barely form words. “But, I’m here? Why is he?” he slurs out.

A clean whistle echoes through the room, silencing the table. “Tea’s done,” Aofil's mom informs from the kitchen. She peeks her head into the dining room, “Who wants some?” but is met by silence from the four heads trying desperately to deduce what just happened, and what’s currently happening.

“I think all of them,” Aofil’s dad answers in their place, “even though they can’t say it right now.”

With a confused frown Aofil’s mom peeks over her husband’s head. “Why is there determination on the table?”


	57. More worth than the other

"Do you want some tea as well, Flowey?"

No answer, but Aofil's mom pours him some anyway. Once the table is once again set with a fresh cloth, and with steaming cups of tea in front of the fallen children and monsters, Aofil’s dad stretches his arms wide, and slams his palms together. The ensuing shock causes the table to flinch simultaneously, almost knocking over the cups.

“Good luck, to all of you,” he nods, and leaves the room with his wife. "We're heading upstairs."

The table looks at the cups placed before them. They didn’t notice them before, and they stare at them like they were conjured out of thin air.

Flowey is the first to be brave enough to taste the tea. He folds one of his leafs, and carefully lifts up the cup to his mouth. He takes a sip, and smack his lips at the taste. His eyes widen. “Wait, this is Golden Flower tea, how the heck did they get a hold of this?”

Chara is the second to sample. They twists their lips at the taste. “Not as good as Asgore’s.”

Flowey’s petals sink, and he slowly turns around. When he meets Chara’s eyes he freezes, “No,” and throws himself out of the pot. He wraps himself around Aofil, hiding behind their shoulder. “Don’t let them kill me, please.”

Chara scoffs. “You’re crawling back to Aofil? Didn’t they leave you to die in that machine?”

Aofil feels Flowey’s grip loosen on their shoulders. They reach a hand up to him, but he swats it away with a vine. It’s wet, wet from tears.

“Why are you hiding behind them?” Chara continues. “And here I thought you were above being a crybaby, Flowey.” They blows their lips. “Big kid you turned out to be.”

“Chara,” Asriel intercepts with a careful hand.

“Come off it, Asriel. He’s a lesser version of you. Why do you care? Look at him, whimpering and sobbing because he knows he’s weak, he knows that he became useless the second he lost his ability to reset. He has no love, no feelings, no nothing. Just a literal shell, holding inside the lingering essence of you. Didn’t even have the decency to give your soul rest, Asriel. A parasite, nothing more, and he deserves nothing more than to be treated as one. Riding along in the vain hope that he could finally take over and be whole again. He’s a mistake, and he’s spent his entire life trying not to be, and what has he to show for it? Nothing.”

“He remind you of someone? Takes one to know one,” Aofil snaps back at Chara. “Also, didn’t you just call Asriel a parasite as well?”

“Big talk coming from the one not giving a slightest care about Asriel," Chara retorts, "just wanting to bring him back so that you can wipe your hands of the dust you caused.”

“I didn’t kill them!”

“You had every chance to just walk away from this, Aofil!” Chara accuses with a stern finger against their twin. “You didn’t have to befriend them, you didn’t have to stay.” Their expression turns sour. Bitter anger and contempt stares at Aofil through eyes burning with disgust. “And you didn’t have to kill them. You don’t care about them, you just care about them looking up to you. Them praising you is what drives you, your selfishness caused them to die. It’s because of you that Frisk was forced to reset, you’re the sole reason they have to suffer. I was nice to you before because I thought you would realize that you just stumbled into their life, and that you would be humble enough to let them go, but I guess I gave you more respect than you gave the.” Chara throws out their arms. “And because of that, here we are!”

Asriel looks at Aofil, who’s clenching their teeth, then back at Chara.

“Not to mention,” Chara starts again after catching some air, “that you could’ve just left. The heads of your supposed family and friends are jumbled because of you, but you still chose to be with them. Couldn’t just cut the cord.”

A chair creaks next to Aofil. “Mom?” Asriel cries out in confusion.

Toriel ignores him, and instead puts her hand on Aofil’s. Her other strokes their chin warmly. “My child.”

“Mom? What are you doing?” Asriel cries out desperately. “I’m here! I’m back! Talk to me!” He tugs at Toriel’s dress. She removes her hand from Aofil’s, and shoves Asriel away.

“Ngaah!” Undyne roars with glee before patting Aofil on the back. “I knew you could do it, Aofil!”

Tears stream down Asriel’s fuzzy cheeks. “Mom!”

“Don’t bother, Asriel,” Chara informs coldly, “it’s not like Aofil wants to share. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. You’re just a tool to them. Aofil didn’t do all of this just to be nice, they did it because they wanted to look good. That’s why they left you to waste away in the machine, Flowey, by the way. If they truly wanted to help, they would’ve saved you from it. But no, the plan was too important, their image was too important to risk getting you out of there. Why are you still back there, by the way, Flowey?”

Asriel tries to meet Aofil’s eyes. “Why?” Aofil looks away, but Asriel chases after. “Why? Why would you do this to me? Wasn’t me dying twice enough?”

Aofil cocks their head at the small goat. The warm fur of Toriel’s hand fades away, along with Undyne’s hearty laughter.

“Asriel, why do you think I took control over your and Aofil’s body?” Chara asks with their arms crossed.

“What do you mean?” Asriel answers perplexed.

“Why do you think I had to make that decision?”

“B-because...” Asriel looks at his hurt hand.

“Who do you think I hit? I’ll give you a clue, it’s the one that tried to drag out your and Aofil’s soul, not knowing anything about it. Sans was about to kill the both of you before I stepped in.”

“Bullshit!” Aofil roars. “What about that theater you just did with holding our soul in your hand, drooling determination on it.”

Chara pinches the nose of their bridge. “Haven’t you learned a damn thing, Aofil? You of all people should know what happens with our curse when we’re attacked by magic! Only difference is that I could maintain it, and you can not.”

“Chara? You saved us?” Asriel flounders, his eyes moving back and forth between Chara and Aofil. “Is it true?”

“When have I honestly given you a reason for you to believe that I’m lying, Asriel? Remember, you agreed to our plan, it was something we wanted to do together.”

“You don’t see how Flowey is cowering behind me, Asriel?" Aofil points out. "That’s because of Chara, that’s because of them wanting to kill him because he stood in their way.”

“Well excuse me for being siphoned off, Aofil. I’ll make sure not to have a curse next time I wake from being dead.” Chara puts a hand on their chest. “Really, it was my fault for being taken advantaged off by the little angel that couldn’t do any harm. Oh wait, that’s this timeline,” they smack their forehead, “I forgot about the other timelines where they killed everything in their way because they got addicted to determination.”

“You’re lying.”

“Refresh my memory, Aofil, didn’t you say roughly the same thing to Sans and Frisk down in the True Lab? Forced Frisk’s eyes open just to see the red of our soul?”

“People change, Chara,” Aofil spits back. “Like, for example, you. You were once the hope of the Underground, destined to be the royal heir. Then, you made some wrong choices, and now you’re dead. You had a literal change of heart, thrice now. Asriel, Frisk, and now me and Asriel, again,” Aofil counts down on their upraised fingers, "but, despite everything, it is still just you, Chara. The one soul, the one variable that’s always present during all of this misery.”

“Don’t talk to them that way!” Asriel yells, startling both Aofil and Chara. “Who are you to talk to them that way? From what I understand, all you’ve done, Aofil, is taking advantage of my family! You came back down to get me not because you wanted to save me, but because you wanted to look good in us monsters eyes.”

“Asriel,” Aofil manages to say after recuperating from the shock, “Chara killed you once, and almost tried to kill you again.”

“At least Chara tried to do something good for us monsters! They were loved, and they wanted to give something back, even if it cost them their life. You just had to walk away, but you couldn’t!” Asriel rounds the table. “I can, though.”

Chara’s face softens, despite them trying desperately not to let it show. Asriel scoots out a chair next to them, and sits down next to his best friend. He turns to Chara. “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s really you.” Chara throws themselves into his fuzzy embrace. “I’ve missed you too, Asriel!”

The two friends share a moment together, separated by death, they are now together once again, and they’re never leaving the other’s side again.

“What are you doing, Asriel?!” Aofil bursts out in utter confusion. “Don’t you remember anything from after the Barrier broke? You’re throwing yourself into the reason you died, the reason you became Flowey. Chara’s not a good person, you said so yourself.”

Asriel’s brow furrows. “I did?”

Aofil stumbles on their words for a second before regaining composure. “Are you serious? When you came back from being Flowey, after the Barrier broke? You talked to Frisk. You realized that Chara was the reason you felt like you did, and then,” Aofil lowers their voice, “you told Frisk to go, because you were about to turn back.”

Like a flash of lightning, it all becomes clear. Aofil tilts their head over their shoulder, towards the sobbing and whimpering flower wrapped around their shoulder. “You’re the real one, Flowey. It’s your soul that fused with me.” They snap their head back across the table. “You’re the Asriel that didn’t meet Frisk, you haven’t learned what Flowey learned. You’re just a memory!”

Asriel reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a bundle of yellow flowers. “Here, Chara.” He hands them over to his best friend. “I am ready. We will free the monsters.”

Aofil lunges for the flowers, but Chara nimbly dodges under the table with Asriel’s hand in theirs. Aofil fights off the table cloth wrapped around them and places Flowey back into the pot. “Flowey,”  
they try to hide their fear, but they hear it in their own voice, “listen to me.”

“Everything they said is true, about you, and me. We’ve done nothing but harm, they at least tried to do good.”

Aofil grabs Flowey by the stem. “Flowey! They’re gonna go through their plan again!”

“Chara!” Asriel voice echoes through the house. “Wake up!”

“I don’t like this plan anymore,” Flowey finishes, clutching his teeth, but failing to hold another loud sob. “We’ll to it together, right?”

“You’re not him anymore, Flowey!”

A bellowing and fearful roar shakes the entire house, and heavy footsteps soon trample on the upper floor.

“Flowey, you might not have a full soul,” Aofil tries desperately to grasp at any straw they can think of, “but you’ve experienced more than Asriel, you’ve learned more than him. You’ve shaken off the shackles Chara had over you, you know who they really are now!”

“I’m weak.”

Two pained shrieks, one low, and one high, pierces Aofil’s ears. “No.”

Rapid footsteps charge down the stairs, but are cut down viscerally. A bright red light rounds the corner. Four souls beat in panic as they hover inside a cage of bloodied claws.

“Six souls,” a growl threatens, “just need two more.”

A white and sharp muzzle curls its lips, exposing a set of even sharper teeth, forming a pleased smile.

The free hand tenses, and an orange and unstable fireball forms slowly in it. Aofil grabs the pot and throws themselves around the corner with it. Pieces of burning wood follows just behind them, along with a deafening bang. They force themselves to ignore their ringing ears and rush towards the hallway.

“When that human man found me, I waved him off,” Flowey starts as Aofil slams the door behind them. “I blew raspberries at him, but I let him pick me up. Why? Why am I so weak?”

“You’re not weak, Flowey!”

The front door is blast wide open, with the fusion between the fallen and the royal child of the Underground walking slowly out of the embers. It scans the horizon, looking for the other fallen human, with the body of thehope of the Underground in its arms. It howls for them, its voice angry and dark.

“Look at me, how could I ever be Asriel again?" Flowey screams. "I’m a flower!”

Aofil puts their hand over Flowey’s mouth to prevent him from giving away their location. They lean their head carefully out from behind the tree they’ve taken cover behind. At the bottom of the path leading up to Mt. Ebott they see the tall and slender monster swipe away the hedges that covered the entrance to the path leading up. Aofil curses under their breath, and takes off up alongside the path, staying as low as they can.

Shadows dance on the dirt path, but above the trees shines no sun. Flowey looks up at Aofil. “Creatures like us, Aofil, we don’t deserve to have friends. The world would be a better place if we just let them be. We’ve done nothing but make everyone miserable.”

“Either you open your mouth to say how we get out of here, Flowey,” Aofil whispers as loud as they dare and can while running, “or you keep it closed. We’re getting out of here!”

Flowey blinks as he tries to process what Aofil just said. “We?” He looks down the path, catching just a glimpse of his and Aofil’s pursuer through the trees moving across his vision. “But, Asriel?”

“That is not the Asriel I want back. It's not the Asriel that should be back. That Asriel is still best friends with Chara, and you are not. You know who they really are. You said so to Frisk.”

“They’re not the greatest person.”

“And that’s the only Asriel that could join his parents in their new chapter. The only one that can snap them out of their memories.”

The forest around them give way to a plateau looking over nothing. The cliff wall is glittering in the light, but still there’s no sun above them. Aofil’s shadow lies tall on the ground, pointing against the cave.

“Aofil, where are we going?” Flowey asks quietly.

A furious roar echoes up the mountain. Aofil spots tree falling violently, clearing a path up Mt. Ebott, and with alarming rate. “I don’t know, but away from that.”

The cave is as warm as it ever was, and just as dark. It’s not long before Aofil sees the large hole leading into the Underground. Aofil stops, and considers it.

Flowey looks over the edge, and then back at Aofil. “Don’t be an idiot, the Barrier should be broken. We can go through it.”

Aofil shakes the thought out of their head, “You’re right,” and hurries deeper into the cave. “Your head’s a bit clearer now? Can you unremember Chara and Asriel?”

“I, I don’t know? I feel so...I don’t know! I can’t think clearly!”

Aofil picks up the pace again as the sound of trees falling becomes louder. “Could it be that you’re feeling? Is that why? I mean, technically you have a soul now. It’s just stuck with mine at the moment. Think, Flowey. You have to get Chara and Asriel out of your head.”

Flowey looks at his vines. They’re darkened by tears. “So this is how I’m gonna be all the time if I become Asriel again?”

“You still remember how you felt after you broke the Barrier?”

The sound of creaking wood fades, and the walls twist around Aofil and Flowey. The ground underneath Aofil’s feet shift. They look down, stone, processed stone, and the color, purple.

“No!” Flowey shouts, and Aofil stops in the nick of time. A large carving of the Delta Rune stares at them.

Feral huffs catches Aofil's ears from behind them. “Dammit.”

Flowey lowers his head in shame. “Sorry, I couldn’t control it.”

Aofil tries to step out of reach from the charging beast thundering towards them, but they fail. Flowey is ripped out of their hand, and thrown against the door. The pot smashes into pieces, and Flowey lies still in the middle of them.

“Two souls left,” the monster growls, reaching over towards Aofil.

Aofil covers their chest with their arm. They grab a hold of their side, holding their arm as tightly as they can over their chest. “You’re not getting it!”

The beast’s head snap back, and its wild laughter almost shatters Aofil’s eardrums. “Oh, not me, I’m not gonna use the souls, you are. You need to wake up from here. I know I can’t do this, but I’ll be damned if I’m not letting Asriel be himself. He’s the one that deserves to come back, not Flowey.”

“He’s broken free of you, Chara!” Aofil struggles to wriggle out of the monster’s grip, but fails.

“I want the Asriel that’s alive to actually be Asriel! How does that not make sense? Why should we settle for the broken acorn when we have the oak?”

“Because you just want the Asriel that you still have a grip over!”

“Me?” the monster scoffs. “No, I can’t come back. Besides, your mother said, this is all about Asriel, remember? And you’re right, the plan is too big to fail, and you choosing Flowey over Asriel would throw everything away. You see, unlike you,” Aofil’s hand is thrown away from their chest, “I care about the monsters.”

The claws burrow into Aofil’s chest, clutching their soul. Aofil can’t do anything else but endure the pain. With pinpoint precision the white lining of Aofil’s soul is peeled out, and discarded like trash.

Another similar glow is brought out of the white fur looming over Aofil. A joint red and white heart. With equal precision, the red soul is plucked out from it, and the now hollow white soul is pushed against Aofil’s, filling in the gaps left behind.

The large monster falls to its knees, coughing and straining in pain. With a shaking hand it summons the other four souls. “Bring him back,” the monster demands as it forces the souls it has inside Aofil.

“It moved!”

Aofil feels exhausted, where are they?

“Back up, Alphys. You too!” A cyan shape lifts Aofil’s chin up. “I’m in no mood to play twenty questions, so I’m just gonna ask one!” Something sharp pokes at Aofil’s throat. “Who are you?”

Their vision crawls back to them. They’re in their basement. Above them stands Undyne. She’s looking at them furiously, and with one of her spears pointed against them. There’s someone else with her. Aofil’s narrows their eyes, why is it so hard to focus? It’s Alphys, but why is she here as well?

Undyne turns her head and throws out her arm to her side. “I said, get back!”

Aofil locks eyes with the one Undyne’s blocking with her hand. The figure pats their chest.

“What did you do?” Aofil roars as they pounce against Frisk, their claws tearing up the purple and blue sweater just before they’re janked back by their other arm. They look at it, it’s chained against the soul extractor. Aofil swirls their head back.

They catch just a glimpse of the blunt spear Undyne swings against them.

“Good thing we double looped the chain,” she breathes out as Aofil loses consciousness.


	58. New face, old friend

"Yes, Alphys, this time it'll not be able to move. I shackled the horns as well, just to be safe. And Frisk, didn’t I say that we should’ve called Asgore the first thing we did? You’re lucky it didn’t slice you open like a can of tomato sauce.”

Aofil blinks.

“Undyne! D-don’t talk like that! You’re scaring them, and me.”

Their head is pounding, what happened?

“Sorry, Alphys. It’s just, it was my fault that it could attack. If it would’ve reached Frisk, I don’t know what I could’ve done to save them. It moved so fast, I wasn’t ready.”

Something is holding their head.

“U-Undyne? It’s moving again!”

A crackling sound emerges.

“Alphys, Frisk, get back! Alphys, keep your phone ready!”

Aofil tries to reach for what’s grasping their head, but their arms are stuck, they can’t move them. Something sharp pushes against their throat, and they struggle to breathe.

“You move one more muscle except your tongue, and I’ll cut both off! I don’t care if you’re in pain, because that’s the point!” Undyne roars with uncertain anger. Her command is unstable, as if she doesn’t believe that she’s in charge. “Who are you?”

“Undyne?” Aofil asks. Their voice is feral, it’s not theirs. Why is it like this?

The pressure of her spear fades for a second as she flinches from hearing her name. She shakes her head, and pushes her spear back. “How do you know my name? Are you a monster?”

“Aofil,” they cough. “I’m Aofil.”

Again Undyne’s grip on her spear loosens. “A-Aofil?” she stutters out in confusion. “B-but, how?”

Aofil struggles for air as their throat is granted permission to breathe by Undyne’s spear. They take some deep gulps of air, each breath sounding foreign to their ears. Once they finally soothe their lungs they lean back, and let their eyes wander around their...basement? Yeah, it’s their basement. They’re back in it. Wait, back? When did they get here to begin with? And why is their body this, monstrous?

Undyne’s head cocks as Frisk brushes past her leg. “Frisk?”

Aofil again locks eyes with Frisk, and again their exhales quicken. They throw themselves against the child. “You!” they roar, before being janked back by their head and arms. Their entire weight recoils back against the cold steel behind them, and the machine shakes violently. The world around them starts spinning, and they struggle to recover. What did they just do? Why did they attack Frisk? Undyne charges them before they can get their bearings back.

Again the air is forced out of Aofil’s lungs. Undyne doesn’t waste the opportunity. She pushes her arm up against the throat, and her spear against the chest. “No Aofil of mine would lunge against Frisk like that! Who are you?” Aofil feels the skin on their chest give way to the sharp edge of Undyne’s spear. “Last chance!”

“My house, then main road, take a right at the echo flower house!” Aofil shouts with the last air still left for them to use.

Despite the alien tone and growl of their voice, the unfamiliar eyes, and the monster form they have, Undyne knows, it’s Aofil. She lets them go with a bewildered and confused expression on her face. “What are you doing, Aofil? Why are you attacking Frisk?!”

Aofil again breathes greedily.

“And why are you like this?” Undyne slumps down on the ground as her spear disperses from her hand. “How are you like this?”

Alphys peeks up from behind a table lying on its side. “Undyne? What happened?” She rushes to Undyne’s side and grabs hold of her. “Y-you’re not attacking her unless you get through me!” Alphys shouts to Aofil. “I-I don’t know who you are, but-”

“I’m Aofil,” they interrupt.

“But I’m gonna-” Alphys stops as the name settles in her ears. “Aofil?” She takes a look at Undyne, concludes that she’s fine, and walks closer to Aofil with her claws tapping against one another. “Is it really you?”

They nod.

“This is,” Alphys takes off her glasses and cleans them with her lab coat, “this is unbelievable. You’re not you.”

Undyne throws a hand up, “Well, obviously,” before leaning her lobe against it. “What is this, Aofil?”

“Can you take the chains off, please?” they ask.

Alphys returns her glasses onto her nose. “Sure, Aofil.”

Undyne stretches out an arm before her, stopping her with a squeal. “You attacked Frisk, Aofil,” she reminds as she removes her hand from her lobe. She lifts up a pair of fingers, “and you did it twice. I know that you are you, but are you you?”

Aofil and Alphys both wrinkle their noses at the question.

“Look,” Undyne massages her forehead for a second, “it might be you inside that body, but how do we know it’s your body? How do we know you’re in control? Again, you attacked Frisk!”

Alphys inspects the large and alien monster shackled up like an animal, and takes a step back. Undyne summons another spear in her hand. “Sorry, Aofil, but you have to convince me.”

“Magic,” Aofil answers, grunting at the sound of their voice.

“Gotta have to be more specific.”

“I can’t.”

Undyne shrugs. “We’ll, then I’m not convinced. Sorry.”

“Aofil, you’re a human with monster features. How? It shouldn’t be possible, unless.” Alphys moves her eyes to the machine Aofil’s shackled to, and her face drains of color. “Oh no, what if-”

“What?” Undyne asks, with her eye still on Aofil.

“A-Aofil, d-did you use this m-machine?”

Undyne puts a hand on Alphys’ shaking shoulder. “Alphys?” she asks her, but Alphys’ eyes are glued towards Aofil. Her clenched fists are shaking in anger, and she’s breathing sharply.

Her eyes narrow, and Undyne almost loses grip on her shoulder as Alphys throws a finger against Aofil. “Who did you kill?” she rages out. “Who did you kill and absorb? Why? Were you curious? Answer me!”

Undyne turns Alphys around and looks her in the eye. “Alphys, what are you talking about? Did Aofil kill someone?”

“T-that machine, it’s a s-soul extractor.”

Undyne furrows her brow, “Extractor? How do you mean? Wait,” and her mouth hangs open. “You,” her face goes through a range of emotions, confusion, anger, disgust, questioning, “you built that in our home? Why?”

Alphys posture slumps back down from the upright one she assumed while accusing Aofil. She hides her head in her hands, and her tail curls up. “I-I’m.”

“No,” Undyne stands up and backs away from Alphys, “why would you do that? It turned Aofil into what they are now, and you said they had to kill someone to do it? Why would you build something like that? I thought you left this behind! Why?”

Alphys and Undyne stare at each other. Undyne trying to figure out how she feels about it, and Alphys trying to figure out how to tell her about it.

Undyne and Alphys both flinch backwards as Sans pops up between them with his accompanying gust of wind that blows dust into Aofil’s face. They blow their lips, and stab their lower one with a fang.

Again Alphys is forced to clean her glasses. She squints. “Sans?”

“aofil applied for a teacher position with toriel, right? how did it go?”

“W-what?” Alphys returns her glasses onto her confused, wrinkled nose. “Why does it matter?”

Sans motions with his hand that he want an answer.

“Um, well, I think. They got the job, but why is it important right now?”

“undyne,” Sans spins on his heel, looking over her struggling to get out of the pile of boxes she backed into, “what about the trial?”

“What,” she leans against a box with her hand, and it falls over. She catches herself just before hitting the ground, “what trial?”

Sans shines up. “heh, looks like it actually works, and we got lucky with the memories.” he claps his hands. “how fantastic.”

He hums a pleased song as he walks up to Aofil. “you have him under control?” Sans starts as he tinkers with the shackles above Aofi. “scared me a bit back there.” He taps his chin. “this is a weird knot.”

Aofil can’t believe their tear filled eyes. “You’re alive?”

Sans leans down with a perplexed look. “yes? did you suddenly forget that i’m not a human skeleton?”

“No, it’s just...” A shackle opens, and Aofil’s arm falls down. “I thought I killed you.”

Sans opens the other makeshift shackle. “you got me pretty good with that fireball, i’ll give you that, but kill me? nah, not you, you don’t love me enough. also, as i guessed before,” he pulls down his shirt, exposing his restored ribs, “healing magic works.”

“But,” Aofil rubs their wrists, the strange feeling doesn’t mask the pain. They look at their wrists, the pain is familiar, “nevermind.”

Undyne grabs Sans’ collar and throws him back. “They attacked Frisk!”

“you did, aof? why?” He stands up from landing in the felt chair. “wait, did you do something, kiddo?” he asks Frisk with a raised eye socket.

Frisk shakes their head.

“no soul sheltering, no keeping them alive, no nothing?”

They shake their head again.

“B-but-” Aofil lowers their head in thought. The rope on their horns taut, and they grunt as it drags their horns back. They grind their teeth against the pain.

“oops,” Sans apologizes, and walks past a stunned Undyne. “sorry, didn’t see them." He unties the rope from the machine, and helps Aofil up on their feet while brushing them off with his hand. “you were saying?”

“If Frisk didn’t touch my soul,” Aofil thinks for themselves.

“doesn’t seem like it,” Sans shrugs and finishes off his cleaning, “unless the kid is lying, of course.” He peeks his head out from behind Aofil. “are you?” he asks Frisk. Again they shake their head.

“So Chara wasn’t real?” Aofil whispers. Their face turns bitter and sour. “Dammit!” they yell, causing the entire basement to rumble. They relax their clutched fists, and sigh deeply. “My head is a mess,” they complain with a tired voice. They run their hands over their face, but it doesn’t help in the slightest. If anything, it made them more aware of the foreign form they have, which is the complete opposite.

“how are you feeling?”

“It’s hard to describe. I’m also not hearing-” Aofil is silenced by Sans’ hand. The question wasn’t directed at them, but to Undyne and Alphys.

“I’m confused, that’s what I am,” Undyne answers with a flail of her arms. “Alphys is too, for that matter. The smartest monster is confused! How did you manage that?”

“arguably,” Sans coughs just loud enough for Aofil to hear, but not the others, “but other than that, how is your head?” Sans presents Aofil with his hands. “if you look at aof here, what do you think? can you even think?”

Undyne’s brow furrows so far down that her eye patch covers her forehead. “What kind of question is that? I see Aofil being a monster, except, you know, they’re supposed to be human!” she screams. Confused and bewildered she stares at Sans, her hand twitching and summoning cyan sparks, just like her eye.

He nods, pleased with the answer, and turns to Alphys. “and you, alphys?”

Undyne throws her arms into the air. “Ngaaaah! Now my head is a mess too!”

“less of a mess,” Sans corrects.

Undyne grin is twitching like her eye. “What was that?”

“nothing. alphys?”

“Um,” she glances over to Undyne, who’s restraining herself from making another spear, “I feel fine, I think? Is Aofil radiating something dangerous?”

Sans winks at Aofil. “seems to be working.”

“What?”

Sans taps at his skull, and spins his finger around. Aofil eyes open wide, “Ah,” they see what he means. They nod to him.

“What! Are! You! Talking! About?!” Undyne huffs angrily. “Just tell me! My head is spinning! It’s annoying.”

“no wonder it’s spinning, it’s your top,” Sans grins.

Undyne mumbles obscenities under her breath while the cyan glow in her hand increases in strength. “Not in the mood for jokes.”

“then how about tea?” Sans proposes with his arms wide open. “undyne, could you brew some?”

“Why me?”

“because right now, your silhouette is closest to an adult human’s,” Sans explains while digging through the boxes Undyne fell into. “if anyone happens to walk by, i’ve no idea who might, mind you, but then they won’t immediately be alarmed by a lizard tail, or by children walking around in a house that no children live in.”

He tosses Undyne a packet of Golden Flower tea, as well as a kettle. She catches them without blinking, and sighs through her lips. “I should’ve stayed in the Underground.” She’s hit in her eye by a beam of sunlight from atop the door frame. She again shakes her head, and ascends the stairs on heavy legs.

Sans continues excavating a folded table, some cups, and a table cloth. Aofil recognizes none of them, he must’ve brought them with him. When did he have time for that? Unless, Aofil looks at the machine behind them, unless Sans lived here. That worries Aofil, worries them something immense. They lean their head against their fur covered hand, it’s soft like a freshly washed towel. “How long was I out?”

“Um, I think an hour or something,” Alphys answer while standing in the middle of the room, caressing her tail with both hands.

“No, I meant before when,” Aofil catches their tongue in the last second, and on a fang. They huff away the pain, “Nevermind.”

“Ah,” Alphys nods before giving her tail another impatient squeeze. She eventually decides to help Sans with arranging the table.

Despite Frisk leaning into Aofil’s view, they’re still lost in thought. Frisk snaps their finger right in front of the feral eyes, and they react by flinching. Aofil brushes Frisk away with the back of their hand. “Better for the both of us.” Frisk lifts up three fingers in response. “Better for the three of us,” Aofil corrects.

Frisk pushes away Aofil’s hand, and sits down next to them. They run their eyes up and down, and turn their head away with a conflicted frown.

“Just another monster to you?”

Frisk shakes their head angrily.

“Don’t worry, I know what you mean. You’re used to monsters attacking you and not fighting back, at least,” Aofil moves their narrowed eye towards Frisk, “not this timeline.”

Frisk looks away and rubs their arm. They blink in thought, and then look up at Aofil again. They reach for a dangling ear, but Aofil stops them.

“The less I’m aware of how I am now, the better.”

Frisk returns their hand.

“Thank you. Now, do you have any idea how we might get him out of me?”

Frisk sighs.

“Yeah, I ain’t got the foggiest either. At least I can think clearly, since I don’t feel him in my mind anymore. Don’t really know if that’s a good or a bad thing. Last thing I saw of him was...” Aofil’s voice trails off, their throat feels like gravel, on top of sounding like it. They look Frisk in the eyes, and Frisk flinches just slightly meeting them. “I know that Sans asked you before, but did you do anything with my soul when I was out?”

Frisk puts a hand on their chest, and shakes their head. Aofil keeps eye contact for a little while longer, just to be safe, but eventually they give up. “So I guess Chara was just a memory.”

Frisk nods, and reaches for Aofil’s ear again. They calmly, but firmly, lean away from the hand.

“Tea’s done, nerds,” Undyne exclaims from atop the stairs, “and whatever you are, Aofil. Seriously, how? Me and Alphys went here to bring back your umbrella, and we saw this huge and lumbering shadow walking around in your house,” she explains as she walks down, being careful not to spill the steaming kettle.

Aofil shoots a look towards Sans. “Umbrella?” they mouth accusingly. Sans shrugs with his hands upraised.

“Since the door was locked,” Undyne continues, “we used the window, and found you laying face down on the floor. I think it was the first time ever Sans was happy to see us.”

“did you find your jaw that you dropped upstairs?” Sans quips. Undyne freezes him with a look. He thaws after a second. “hey, not my fault you can’t handle my incredibly fair complex.”

Undyne blows her lisp at the very notion. “He told us to carry you down, didn’t have the bright idea to tell us who you were though!” She places the hot kettle on the table. “Just carry this thing downstairs and lock it up, it might be dangerous.” Undyne snaps her fingers. “And then you shortcutted away!”

“A-Aofil attacked Frisk,” Alphys adds.

“So whatever plan you had, Sans, it almost got Frisk killed.”

Frisk and Aofil share a look, Aofil looking down at the wide stripes they made with their claws, there’s still some fabric left on them. They open their mouth to say sorry, but Frisk jumps into their embrace.

With a soft cough Alphys apologizes for disturbing the humans. “A-Aofil?” she asks with an upraised finger. “C-can I ask you something?”

Aofil nods without smiling, it would probably just scare her.

Alphys taps her claws together. “H-how did this happen? How did you become like this? I asked Sans about it, but he told me he didn’t know how humans procreate.”

“heh.”

Undyne rolls her eye along with a deep sigh.

“Anyway, I might be able to help you," Alphys continues, "but first I need to know exactly how this happened. You used the soul extractor, right?”

“I don’t really know if I should tell you.” Aofil looks at their hand. “It might do more harm than good.”

Alphys grabs her tail again. “U-unless you want to be this way. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Oh, no, I definitely want to be a human again.”

“beats me,” Sans comments as he combs his skull, “but it’s probably wise not to tell them that you and i tried to bring back asriel.”

Undyne and Alphys heads almost fly off their necks as they swerve them to Sans. Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open, and again they try to say something, but they’re hushed by Sans’ finger. “let me finish. we tried to use this.” He picks up the memory box from his pocket. “i placed it inside the machine, aofil came back from their vacation that they had. that’s why their house was empty, and that’s why i tried the experiment here. they came down the stairs just as the machine went haywire, and they were hit with magic, turning them into what they are now.”

Sans takes a dramatic breath. ”anything else? and yes, that’s why they look like.”

“Asgore, and Toriel,” Undyne finishes.

“yes, thank you, undyne,” Sans stops as he sees Undyne’s frozen expression. He follows her eyes up the stairs, to the two large boss monsters standing in the doorway, blocking the sunlight from the upper floor.

“We came as fast as we could, what’s happening?” Asgore’s face turns to stone as he sees Aofil sitting against the machine. Toriel is confounded at first, but has the same reaction once her eyes also spot the goat-like creature.

Sans glances at the set table, and motions his hand towards it.

“tea?”


	59. Ending with a beginning

"toriel, how is your head? asgore, same question to you."

The absurdity of the question tears Asgore away from the strange creature at the end of the basement. "I'm sorry?" he asks with a furrowed and confused brow.

"did aofil get the teaching position?"

After a perplexed couple of seconds Toriel nods. "Yes," she answers, "but I don't see how it matters. What is that creature?"

Sans waves the question away. "all in due time, my queen."

Toriel twists her lips at the title.

"anything strange you're feeling about aofil having the job? any deaths associated?"

Toriel's eyebrow fly up in disgusted surprise. "Sans! What deaths?" Her hand moves up to her mouth. "Is Aofil?"

"oh, no no no no," Sans reassures with his hands. "don't worry, aofil is very much alive. in fact, all of this is quite the opposite of death, so to speak, but i digress. undyne, pour the royal couple a round, please," Sans suggests. "to make it easier for them to swallow."

Undyne shifts her eye between Sans and Asgore and Toriel. "W-what? Swallow what?"

"you explaining everything to them."

Stunned, Undyne can barely hold her jaw up. She glances back up to the large boss monsters, and when she turns back to where Sans was, only a small breeze meets her.

Sans grabs a hold of both the humans. Before Undyne realizes, and before she begins to loudly protest, Sans shortcuts away with Aofil and Frisk.

The air inside Aofil's lungs is knocked out as they land chest first on the plateau overlooking their town. They lift up their arm to scratch their nose, but the fur on their arm tickles them even more, and they sneeze loudly.

Frisk and Sans recoil away from the sound. "whoa, sneeze a bit louder so that we're sure that they can hear you, aof," Sans grumbles to Aofil, annoyed that they startled him.

Aofil tries to scratch themselves with their finger instead, but they stab it with a claw. They grin against the pain, and stab themselves again with their fang. "Dammit, I hate this," they groan as they dry away the blood, leaving a few strands of hair in the wound that they have to blow away. "So damn annoying."

"don't get used to it."

"Don't plan to."

"good, because we still need to get that prince out of you." Sans scratches his chin with his finger. "do you think asgore and toriel will age when we bring him back? i mean, it's still his soul you're housing. even better, do you think they'll age with him still inside you?"

Frisk tugs at his arm, looking very worried.

"hm?" Sans reads Frisk's worried expression. "sorry, i let my mind wander. though, i wonder why they showed up in the first place."

A tune plays from Sans' pocket, he takes out his phone, and puts it up to the side of his skull. "hello?"

"Sans!" The volume of Undyne's voice almost kocks Sans over. "Where are you?"

"undyne, it's been so long," Sans answers with a raised voice while keeping the phone an arm's length away. "when did i give you this number?"

"I'm calling from Alphys' phone!"

"ah, so that’s how. thank you." Sans thanks before disengaging the call. "guess alphys must've called asgore."

Aofil nods, "Yeah, I think I remember Undyne asking Alphys to," and looks around while throwing up their shoulders, "but why did we shortcut away from Toriel and Asgore?"

“because the last time they saw their son being fused with a human they declared war on humanity. granted, it went a bit different last time, but the broad strokes are the same, and the broad strokes are the things i’m worried about.”

“Which must mean that you have a better plan? Otherwise you just jumped to conclusions.”

Sans seats himself on the edge of the plateau. "i have an idea.”

Aofil waits for Sans to finish his sentence, but there is none. “And?” they try to hurry.

Sans shrugs. “just realized it wouldn’t work, sorry.” He lies down on his back.

Aofil rubs their forehead, being careful not to rip it open. “What was it?”

“laying low and waiting for the above lab to be completed, but somehow i don’t see us doing it.”

Aofil sits down next to Sans, Frisk joins them on Aofil’s lap. Aofil makes sure Frisk is leaning backwards as to not fall down the cliff's edge. “Didn’t we do all of this because we didn’t want to wait for the Above Lab?”

“the plan wasn’t for you to absorbing asriel’s soul,” Sans reminds with a tap on Aofil’s knee. “so the plans i had are a bit fuzzy at the moment. both figuratively,” he plucks a couple strands off of Aofil’s knee, and they groan, “and literally.”

Aofil massages their knee, again reminding themselves of how they look, and again cursing themselves for doing it. “The less you could do to remind me of this, the better, Sans. Every time I move I’m bombarded with all these strange feelings. They all have this asterisk above them, there’s a clause to everything I move and touch.”

Sans chuckles to himself.

“Yes, very funny, I know. You do that again and I’ll stab you with one.”

Sans opens one eye and nods towards Frisk. “like you almost did them.”

Frisk tries to cover their shredded sweater with their arms, but their arms are too small to cover the wide holes. They bundle up the scraps holding the sweater together, and lean into Aofil’s torso. Aofil want to feel relieved by it, but their body isn’t. It’s screaming to them about the alien fur covering them, and the abnormal sense of touch emanating from their fingers as they pat Frisk’s head for reassurance. Frisk looks up to them. Aofil blinks, the muscles around their eyes still figuring out how to readjust the focus, and smiles warmly, the new row of teeth they have are resting uneasy on their lips, and a fang is constantly pushing out against their lower lip.

“There’s gotta be a way,” they sigh, grimacing at the low and feral tone of their voice. They hear someone completely strange to them speak, but with their words. Their ears twitch, and brush gently against their chin.

“any way we can ask asriel about it?”

“I don’t feel him anymore, it’s only me in my head. I do feel that my chest is heavier somehow, so I’m pretty sure he’s still here.”

“could also be the stuffing to fill a pillow that you have on it?”

“Hilarious.”

“i know.”

Aofil is tempted just to swat Sans off the cliff, but he would just shortcut back up, so why bother? Instead they try to take in the warmth of the setting sun. The orange glow is pleasant, and just for a moment it detracts from their body. They’re reminded yet again when Frisk puts their hand on Aofil’s chest. They burrow their fingers into the fur, and rests it against the skin underneath. Aofil grabs their wrist, “Frisk?” but Frisk keeps it there. The kid glances at Sans, sees that his eyes are closed, and pull down one of their eyelid with their other hand. Aofil’s curse looks back at them, and Frisk again taps on their chest.

“Determination?” Aofil wonders out loud.

Sans wakes up from his nap. “what?”

Aofil searches their head. “Wait, wasn’t Flowey created by determination?” they barely remember.

Frisk nods.

Sans yawns and rubs his eye. “what are we doing?”

“Frisk is suggesting we use determination to bring back Asriel.”

Sans sees Frisk’s hand. “using your curse?”

“I guess.”

Sans eyes turn dark, and he stands up slowly. “better now than later.”

“Sans, we’re not doing this on a plateau overlooking a deadly drop on one side,” Aofil throws a thumb towards the cave, “and a deadly hole on the other.”

Sans leans over the edge, and his pupils return. “you have another place in mind?”

Aofil takes an unsteady breath, “Actually,” and sighs with the wind, “I do. It’s secluded, no one will see us there. It’s a bit poetic, as well.”

“a place where we don’t risk falling to our splattery demise, and it’s poetic as well?“ Sans motions for Aofil to start walking. “after you.”

Aofil lifts Frisk out of their lap, and stands up. They do it a bit too quick, and almost stumble from their body’s new balance. They manage to find it though. “We’re probably gonna get there after nightfall, just so you know. I don’t want Frisk there either, in case I go completely determined.”

“well, that’s too bad, because i want them to come with us. if you go completely determined then i want the only one that’s managed to stand up against something worse with me.”

Aofil wanders their eyes to the small child holding their hand, squeezing it hard with all their might. Sans’ words ring true in their ears, and they wonder, what is a hypergod compared to them?

“and when,” Sans hawks, “if i have to try and contain you,” he corrects, “then frisk might help you calm yourself, or take care of your soul if things go way wrong.”

Aofil squeezes Frisk’s hand back, and squats down to their level. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

Frisk nods, and Aofil offers them their shoulders to sit on. They gently swat away Frisk’s hand reaching for their ear though, they have to be firm on that.

The last rays of the sun shows them the way down the side of the mountain, towards the place where it all started.

To the place where Aofil died.

The forest is quiet, there’s just the calm wind and the sound of footsteps against soil that occupies their ears. Even though the sun is down, Aofil can still see clearly. At least there’s a silver lining to their new eyes. The weight of Frisk is negligible as well, Aofil allows themselves to chalk that up to a positive as well. Maybe if they had time they could get used to it, maybe, not really.

Besides, they have someone else inside them, someone else sharing their soul, and every second that passes increases the chances of them coming back into consciousness. Not again, Aofil can’t handle it again. Asriel’s confusion, his fear, his desperate cries, Aofil heard them all, and felt them all. They felt themselves walking without them thinking to do so. Their body was a puppet, with a panicked Asriel controlling them.

Frisk leans a worried frown into Aofil’s view as the shiver they felt was almost as strong as an earthquake.

Sans reacts as well. “you cold?”

Aofil nods.

Sans throws up an eye socket, “you’re feeling chilly even though you’re covered in fur?” but shrugs it away. “i’d give you a piece of my soul, but that wouldn’t really help, now that i think about it. never seen hair on bone though.”

“Sans.”

“don’t worry, you wouldn’t be able to handle me anyway.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Frisk dodges a branch that bounces off one of Aofil’s horns, but Aofil doesn’t feel it. Their mind is busy elsewhere.

Who is it combined with them anyway?

If it’s Asriel inside them, then Chara will still have a grip over him. Aofil peeks over their shoulder, at Frisk. The kid iscleaning the brown spot left behind by the branch, and Aofil turning their head has them reaching for it before giving it one last rub with their thumb. Frisk smiles back, and Aofil returns it.

It fades as they return their eyes forward. A small voice inside them asks them if it really was Frisk, or if it was Chara smiling, and it’s their own voice. Having Asriel back with Chara around. Chara’s hate for humanity, and Asriel’s devotion to them, can’t bode well.

The other option? Flowey. Is it the better one? Aofil doesn’t know. They know he’s left Chara behind, but how much? Can he leave himself behind? He did it once, after he broke the Barrier, and this time he’ll hopefully have a full soul. Although, what if he stays Flowey even with a soul? What if he just gains more power and a cuter muzzle? No one would figure Asriel being evil. Toriel and Asgore would never think that their son that’s somehow back from the dead would be anything than the angel they remembered him as. Their hopes and dreams, back again with them. Would Frisk even raise an eyebrow?

Did Aofil do the right thing in bringing Flowey with them? They sigh, should’ve just walked away. That option is gone now, they reaffirm to themselves while tapping their claws together. Can’t really walk away while looking like they do now, and with someone else inside them.

They didn’t ask for this, they never asked to be involved. The monsters came into Aofil’s life, not the other way around. What were they supposed to do? Just ignore them while they were busy cooking up a storm in their kitchen, and in their life? It was supposed to be a new chapter for Aofil, and for the monsters, but what is there to show for it? Tangled memories, tangled souls, tangled everything. A damn mess.

The things Aofil has seen, the things they’ve had to do, all for a kid they don’t even know. They already died once, that should’ve been evidence enough to cut the chord. But no, it was not to be. Aofil just had to not make it easy for everyone, because of course they had to. They were the human to the monsters, the one and only human. But despite that, and despite everything Aofil did for them, they didn’t even ask them their name!

“this the place?”

Aofil releases their clenched fists and relaxes their bite. Just in front of them, standing dark against the darkness from the overcast above them, is their old village.

Aofil brushes up against some ivy that falls over and cracks as it hits the ground. They catch a rusted mailbox out of the corner of their eye, but they turn their head away from it. Dammit, it’s the last thing they wanted to see now.

“the ground,” Sans whispers. “it’s dead.”

“Because I died here.”

Sans snaps his head towards Aofil. It’s the first time Aofil has seen him at a loss for words. They takes a deep breath as they lower Frisk from their shoulders. “Back when Chara and Asriel attacked, they killed me. Sliced me open. Almost like I did Frisk.” Aofil sighs at their hand. “I don’t know why Chara chose this place to be buried in. Maybe it was just another string they pulled with Asriel since it’s the closest from Mt. Ebott.” Aofil stares at the patch of flowers in the middle of the village. Sans squints, and summons a glowing bone that he tosses towards it. It fades away, but right before it does so, the hollow shape of a small child is briefly illuminated.

“Or perhaps they missed home after all,” Aofil finishes.

Sans gives them a moment to collect themselves before nudging their side. “you ready? no use in postponing it.”

“No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

“two souls mean twice the courage, right?”

“Twice the fear as well.”

Sans nods. “yeah, i guess that too.”

Even from a distant, Aofil can still feel something building up inside of them. They can’t tell if it’s their curse, or if it’s Asriel waking up.

“Only one way to find out,” Aofil takes a deep breath, and march towards where they and Asriel first met.

The soil underneath them hardens. The air around them tastes weird. They feel their cheeks pull, and blossom. A blinding light forces them to cover their face with their arm.

The cloth of their purple robe fails to shield them from the intense rays of the sun. They had almost forgotten what the Surface looked like. They blink, and their new eyes adjust to the light. They feel a tear run down their cheek, and they hate it. They sample the air again, it’s so different than in the Underground. They look down at their arms, holding their corpse.

“Together, Asriel,” Chara whispers with their and Asriel's combined mouth.

Aofil’s eyes shoot open. They’re turned towards Sans, with their hand upraised.

“aof, what’s happening?”

Aofil tries to open their mouth to speak, but they can’t. They scream for their hand to move, but it’s thrown down against the skeleton. Why aren't they in control? Is Asriel...

Chara swipes away a branch standing in their way. They’re so strong, so powerful. Collecting the remaining six souls will be easy! Then they and Asriel will save the monsters, they’re the future of the Underground. Together.

“aof!”

Aofil’s hand rips a chunk out of Sans’ jacket. He sidesteps the rest of the swipe, and throws Frisk away from him and Aofil. Their hand is raised again.

The first human Chara spots flinches violently in fear. “What the hell?!” the man shouts. Chara ignores him, but they make a note to themselves, he will be the first. A choir of scared and confused gasps follow them as they near the patch of flowers in the center of the community.

“Chara?”

They recognize the voice. Dammit, why haven’t they forgotten her.

“Chara!”

Him too! Why are they here?! Nevermind that other human, those two will be the first. Finally, after all this time. Chara can’t help but let out a laugh. They’ll show those idiots the curse they brought upon themselves.

“Mom, dad! I’m scared. What is that?”

No!

Chara falls on their knees, and their corpse slips out of their grasp onto the bed of flowers.

No, not them. It can't be-

“aofil!”

A glowing bone hits Aofil in their side, and they start coughing violently. They entire body is aching, their face is burning. Everything’s a haze. What’s happening?

Aofil’s head is turned towards Frisk. They feel themselves bend their knees. What's happening? They feel two events happening at once! They're not in control in either one!

With a lunge Chara slashes open the figure next to them. It was not one of their parents, damn. There’s screaming around them, but it’s like music to their ears. They feel the warm blood run against their claws and fur. They’re so powerful.

Another one attacks them, and they dodge the attack. Another one throws a pitchfork, but it zips past Chara with room to spare. They feel someone standing behind them, and with a satisfied grin on their lips they swing their hand around, and hits it. They turn around.

There, next to their corpse, lies their twin. Chara freezes, and in that moment they’re struck by a man swinging a shovel. They feel their grip on their body fade.

Asriel looks up at the furious faces looking down on him. Hate and rage is burning alongside confusion inside their eyes. Asriel summons a desperate ball of flame that he throws against the ground. Dust and smoke covers him, and he dives for his best friend. He picks up their blood soaked corpse, and rushes back towards Mt. Ebott.

He looks back over his shoulder, seeing a man slumped over the child still laying there. He hears one last name. “Chara!”

“No!” Aofil shouts. They toss aside the skeleton in their hands, and command their body to turn. “I’m in control, Asriel!”

The ground underneath their feet turns loose. Aofil feels their body fight against their every move, but they force themselves through it. Their entire body burns hotter with every step taken closer to the place where they died, but they continue.

They are determined.

"You can't even control your memories, Asriel! You made me watch Chara kill me! You made me feel what it felt to kill myself! That's enough!"

Aofil's chests is pounding like a thousand drums, and once they finally reach the center, they put their hand against the beating.

“Out!” they yell.

Their claws dig into their skin, but they finally reach it. With all their strength they force their soul out in the open. The pink glow stings in their eyes, but not for long. Lightning shoots through their entire being as they pinch the white soul inside theirs.

“Out!” Aofil commands, gripping it with their fingers.

Their head turns light, their body almost collapses under its own weight, but they won’t let it. They throw their own soul back inside them, feeling their determination fill them up. They cage the white and quivering sliver of a soul inside their hands.

“Out!” they roar with all their might, clutching the soul against their palms. They focus everything that they are inside the soul, and clench it harder.

“Asriel!”

A blinding light forces Aofil's hands apart. Their entire body is thrown against the ground, and a piercing pain is shot through their chest. The heaviness that follows crushes their ribs, and they feel the light give way to a washing darkness.

Aofil can barely breathe, their lungs are burning from the smoke around them. They can barely see too. They blink, but nothing comes of it. They try to sit up, but something heavy is pushing down on their chest. They put their hand on it. Soft fur.

“God dammit!” they scream at the top of their lungs, and slam their fist down on themselves.

A loud bleat snaps them out of their rage, and a whimper follows suit. Again they pat their chest, and again they feel fur. What? Aofil rubs their fingers together. Skin, against skin.

“Asriel?” they asks as a series of coughs ambush them.

Something rubs against their chest.

“aof!”

A light blue shine illuminates them, and the goat child lying on their chest, crying softly. The light stops moving closer, and instead begins to shake uncontrollably. A loud guffaw follows. “yes!” Sans yells. “he’s back!”

Asriel’s back. Aofil should be happy, they should be screaming for joy, but they can’t. They tilt their head towards the patch of flowers. The empty mold of the child that fell, the child that sacrificed itself to save the monsters. The child that died, but didn’t get rest.

Because that child lived on, their soul in Frisk, and their body.

Aofil looks at their hand, it’s back to normal, back to what it was before. Yet it’s different, more alien than any fur could ever make it. It’s not Aofil’s, they’ve just been borrowing it.

From their twin, from Chara.


	60. A night not to remember

"here, use my jacket, asriel."

"Thanks."

Asriel wraps the blue jacket around him, trying not to notice the torn up fabric. Frisk offers him a chair that they found on a nearby porch. Asriel sits down on it, and wraps the jacket closer. His head lowers, and after a weak attempt to hide his tears, he starts crying. His heavy breathing is not bitter though, it’s hopeful. The tears that crash below him are not of hate, not of sorrow, but of hope.

Asriel dries his nose, and his eyes fastens on his hand. “I,” he carefully closes it, and presses it against his chest, “I’m alive.”

Sans scoffs. “did you really think frisk would let you rot away alone? heh, you really are an idiot,” Sans bows, “prince asriel.”

Frisk gives Sans a angry shove. Sans recovers at the last second before falling over, and throws his hands up. “take it easy, kiddo. i’m just as emotional as him, but unlike him, i can’t cry.”

Frisk hardens their look, but lets it go as they hear Asriel choke on his tears. They’re quick to offer him a hug, and Asriel accepts it as quickly as he can. He pulls them closer to him, tugging at the back of Frisk’s sweater desperately to get them even closer. He rests his chin against their shoulder, burrowing his muzzle against it with all his strength.

“Thank you,” he weeps with relief. “Thank you so much!”

Frisk embraces him back with an even stronger hug. They too try to hold back their tears, but to no avail. It’s not long before both kids are soaked in the other one’s tears.

Sans nods at the spectacle, and can’t help but crack a wider smile, but someone is missing. “aof?” he wonders as he turns to the human kneeling next to the patch of flowers. “come here, you have to be thanked as well. don’t expect a kiss from me though,” he laughs, “humans aren’t really my cup of tea.”

Aofil doesn’t answer. Their back is turned against Sans, not moving in the slightest. “aof?” Sans tries again, but still no response. Sans starts feeling a bit uneasy, Aofil should be jumping for joy, right? He walks up to them, keeping on eye open for any sudden movements from Aofil, and another for the aura that seems to have subsided just like that. Even though Aofil is on their knees, Sans stands just barely taller than them. He puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder, but they don’t acknowledge it. “that you?” Sans asks with a nod against the shape Aofil is staring at.

Aofil shakes their head. “Yes, and no.”

“no need for cryptic stuff anymore, aof. the kid is back, you’re back. no need for anymore secrets, we can focus on the future now.” Sans exhales a pleased sigh. “finally,” he chuckles. “you know, new chapter sounds tacky and stuff, but i guess that’s par of the course when asgore is in charge of naming it, but i also gotta admit that despite it sounding like something out of a kids’ book, i’m finally looking forward to it.”

Sans gives Aofil a confident pat on the back. “good work, aof, and thank you.”

“This is where Chara came back.”

“no, aof. don’t joke about that,“ Sans’ eyes narrow. “did we bring them back as well?”

Aofil eyes meets Sans’. “I’m Chara.”

Sans’ pupils fades from his eyes.

“This body was Chara’s,” Aofil corrects before they get a bone through them. Sans’ pupils grow back, but Aofil can tell that he’s still ready to strike. “I died when Chara came back with their own corpse here, the humans that were here attacked them, Asriel took over, and in his panic he must’ve picked my body up instead. Me and Chara are twins, and blood looks the same in all humans. The only ones who would notice the difference between us would’ve been our human parents. I heard through Asriel that they cried out Chara’s name over the body he left behind.”

Sans nods, even though he’s unsure what to think of it all. “so what you’re saying is?”

“I died here, but I’m buried in the Underground.”

Sans removes his hand from Aofil’s shoulder. “so, how are you here?”

“Dad healed me, put my soul inside Chara’s corpse. No wonder I have trouble containing all this magic. My soul is broken, and this isn’t even my real body.”

“so how come?”

“What?!” Aofil interrupts with a snap of their head. “How come I’m not freaking out about it? Well, to tell you the truth, I’m kinda getting used to shit like this happening all the time. I’m desensitized to finding out that my entire world view is wrong, Sans! How the fuck do you think that feels?” Aofil waits for an answer they know they aren’t getting. “I’m gonna give you a hint, I’m questioning my own body, my own mind, my own everything. That’s how deep down I am with this right now. Sure, I might have had fur on me just a couple of minutes ago, but at least I was sure that it wasn’t me, that it was something else. Now? I don’t even know if me is me! And who can correct me if I’m right or wrong? Only me can! You see where I’m going?”

Sans grabs a hold of Aofil’s shoulders. “aof! calm down! look at me!”

Sans’ grasp hits Aofil like a crashing wave against a leaf. Their head starts spinning as they try and search for how to react. They fail to catch anything, “I just,” and sinks down into their hands, “I just want this all to end!”

“aof, don’t.”

Thick tears sips through the cracks between Aofil’s fingers. “I’m so tired of everything! I just want to live one day where I can go to bed just as happy as I was when I woke up! I don’t want to question my every movement and thought. No more magic, no more monsters. I just want to be human!”

The desperate sobs bounce against the abandoned houses. They travel through the forest, singing about pain and suffering throughout the trees.

“I’m so tired,” Aofil whimpers weakly. “I’m so tired of these thoughts, these memories. I can’t walk for a minute without something happening to me.”

“aof, the worst is behind us, we have asriel back. it’s just up from here.”

“I’m not even in my own body anymore. I can’t think of something even worse than that, but I know that if I stay with you I’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

“listen to yourself, aof," Sans says after a rough shake of Aofil's shoulders. "you’re telling me that asriel wouldn’t have noticed that he picked the wrong body? that toriel didn’t notice that it wasn’t chara when he came back with the corpse? how little do you think of them? i know that you’re exhausted, aof, but it’s over now. just consider for one second that things will turn out for the better. you do that, and you'll realize that what you just suggested is absurd. trust me on this, alright?”

Aofil wants to believe him, they so much want to believe him, but they don’t know if they can. They’re too tired, too exhausted, too sick of it all. How can they live with them with all these memories in their head? They set out to solve the monster going insane from just thinking of Aofil, and they arrived at them going insane just thinking of the monsters. Why them? Why anything?

“let’s get asriel to toriel and asgore, and then we’ll be done, aof. alright? let’s make sure that we’re done with this first. just a little bit longer,” Sans pleads. “your body has gone through so much in such a short period of time. it’s tired, and so is your head. and it is your head, and your body. just give it some rest, and you'll see that the notion is crazy. and i'm saying that even with everything that has transcribed up until now. we’ll get the memories sorted for the others, and then you can sleep for as much as you like. i’ll make sure there’s a cup of tea for you when you wake up. sound good?”

Aofil nods weakly. “Get me away from this patch, it’s magic.”

“come on,” Sans puts Aofil’s arm over his shoulder, “let’s get asriel and you home.”

With heavy legs Aofil lets themselves be helped towards the crying kids. They feels some of their energy return as they move away from the patch, and as Sans reaches the hugging children, Aofil manages to stand up on their own. Sans offers his arm again, but Aofil refuses it. They need to get some blood pumping before they collapse out of exhaustion.

Sans taps a careful finger on both of the kids’ shoulders, interrupting their moment together, “save some hugs for toriel and asgore,” and opens his hands to both Asriel and Frisk. They both eagerly grab it, and again Asriel lets out a relieved sob.

“Mom, dad,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you.”

Aofil puts their hand on Sans’ shoulder while looking back at the patch. They fill their air with the cold air of the night, and feel their mind getting just a bit clearer. They have to think positive. Asriel is back, the impossible is done.

“You too,” Asriel lets out a final sob, “Chara.”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open. No!

They slam Asriel’s hand out of Sans’, leaving just them two alone after Sans shortcuts away with Frisk. The wind howls as Asriel rubs his hand. Terrified he stares at the human towering over him, their fringe casting a dark shadow over their eyes as the moon sneaks out from behind the clouds far above. Their fists are clenched and shaking. Angry breathing overtakes the wind, and the human clutches their head.

“Dammit!” Aofil roars with such ferocity that Asriel scrambles away as fast as he can. With determined steps they catch up to him though, and holds him down against the ground.

“W-w-why?” Asriel stutters with his muzzle wrinkled in frightened confusion.

Aofil grabs the collar of Asriel’s sweater, and wrings him up to their face. “You have three seconds to drop this act, Flowey!”

Asriel’s eyes dart around Aofil’s face in panic. “F-Flowey?”

Aofil hardens their grip on the collar, causing Asriel to choke for air. “I said, drop it! I didn’t sacrifice everything I did just to bring back the Asriel that still worships Chara! I’d rather have no Asriel than one that still think of Chara as their best friend. So I’m gonna ask you nicely one more time to drop it.”

Asriel’s desperate struggling proves useless as he feels his breath slipping away from him. He grabs hold of Aofil’s wrists. “I’m Flowey,” he screams in pain, but Aofil doesn’t loosen their hands.

“What blew up? Where were we going before Sans threw you inside the Soul Extractor?”

“I, I don’t know,” the goat admits among a string of tears and pained sobs. "W-what are you talking about?"

“You know what,” Aofil let’s go of the goat child, who grabs a hold of their throat, gasping desperately for air. “I might’ve been able to before, but right now I couldn’t care less about who you really are. The memories are gonna be in order once you meet Toriel and Asgore, and that’s the only reason I did this. The damage I did is fixed, and this horrible experience will actually have been for something.” Aofil squats down. “You’re still whatever is left of Asriel, the only soul he has left, however much that is, and now you are gonna become him, whether you’re Flowey or not. If I'm lucky you're just confused at the moment.“

Asriel looks for a way to escape, but he finds none. Aofil is leaning over him menacingly, and with a look that sends chills downs his entire being.

“You might be him,” Aofil continues with a snarl, “and if so, then you’re gonna make damn sure that you put any thoughts about Chara behind you. They’re dead, deader than you were, and I haven’t the slightest intention of bringing them back,” Aofil presses two stern fingers against Asriel’s forehead, “and neither will you, got it?”

Asriel hesitates to nod.

“See these cheeks, Asriel? Do you remember them? They’re the same ones Chara had. I’m their twin, Asriel. I have the same curse they had, and you better believe that mine is stronger now. You felt it inside me, didn’t you? So any fear you have against Chara, it will be worse from me. The best thing for you is to forget about them.“

Asriel’s mouth is so clamped in fear that he can’t muster an answer. Aofil sees in his eyes that they got their point across though.

“But, if you’re still Flowey, then great,” Aofil continues with a smile, “then you already know about Chara.” The smile quickly fades back into a frown. “However, you will not be him any longer. Flowey is dead now, and as a prize we got you, and you’ll play along. You got two choices now, either you remember who you were, and we get the real Asriel back with all you’ve learned as Flowey, or you fake it all the way through till the end. Whichever you choose, I don’t care. From now on, you’re Asriel, whether you like it or not. Understand?”

The goat child hesitates again.

“Understand?” Aofil asks again, with their knee against the fuzzy cheek.

“Yes!” Asriel yells.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Asriel!”

“Chara?”

A barely audible and fearful sob escapes the soft muzzle. “Dead.”

“The only thing I’ve seen of you, whether it be Asriel or Flower, has been you trying to kill me. Only when I became a tool to you did you retract your hand. You took after Chara, your best friend, the one you would do anything for, and did. Because of that, I had to die, I had to watch the people that were close to me die. I had to experience things no one should ever do.”

With an iron grip Aofil steals Asriel’s jaw away from him, forcing the goat to look into their burning eyes. “And you owe me because of that. You’ll be the Asriel everyone wants, you’ll dedicate every waking second I’ve given you to that. You’ll forget about Chara, and you’ll make sure that neither Toriel nor Asgore tries to bring them back. Am I being perfectly clear?”

Tears stream down Aofil’s hand, but their grip remains just as tight. “Y-yes!” Asriel shouts.

Aofil throws the fuzzy jaw out of their hand. “I don’t trust that for a second, not from the way you acted before,” they stand up, leaving Asriel curled up and with scared tears running down his face, “but that’s irrelevant right now. I’m done with this, done with magic, and I’m done with you monsters. Whatever you decide to do, I couldn’t care less, because I’m not gonna be a part of it. You’ll smile towards Toriel and Asgore, you’ll right what you did wrong, and perhaps then I can finally put this all behind me.”

They leave Asriel sobbing quietly in the grass and sink down in the patio chair. They just need to wait for Sans to eventually shortcut back. Aofil’s surprised that he isn’t here already. Would they have still chewed out Asriel even if Sans was here? Probably, they had to make sure that their struggles weren’t in vain. Did they go at him a bit too hard? Aofil moves their eyes towards the shaking goat wrapped tightly in Sans’ spotted jacket. Asriel peeks at them, but quickly turns away his gaze.

No, Aofil didn’t, not after everything Asriel and or Flowey did. Not after everything his decisions has put Aofil through.

Right?

“Mom, dad,” Aofil whispers into the darkness around him, “where are you?”

But nobody came. There’s only him, and the human. He wraps the jacket closer to him. “Mom, dad,” he tries again desperately, hoping that someone can come and save him.

But nobody came.

After a long and awkward while, Aofil catches their eyelids closing just in time. They rub their face. “Where the hell is he?” they wonder out loud. A yawn escapes them, and they sink down further into the chair. The only thing keeping them awake is the fading sniffles from Asriel. If Sans doesn’t arrive soon Aofil will fall asleep despite it being the last thing they want to do. They gotta keep themselves occupied, but how?

Well, there’s Asriel. Aofil opens their eyes again and glance over to him. “So,” they start, “you’re a prince?”

No answer.

“Look, what I said, well yeah, I meant it, but it wasn’t really meant at you. Not the you that’s now, but the you that was before. The Asriel that’s gonna pave the wave for the future is you, I just had to scare away the Asriel that was still stuck with Chara, and Flowey, get it?”

Aofil’s way more tired than they thought they were. They don’t even understand what they said themselves. How is it gonna convince Asriel?

“Listen,” Aofil quells a yawn, “here’s the thing, just smile and don’t talk about Chara, alright? I’m sorry I rough handed you. I’m tempted to say that it was my curse, but that wouldn’t really change the fact that I did. So again, I’m sorry.”

No answer, just sobs.

“Do you know how we split, by the way? I remember holding your soul in my hands,” Aofil cups their hands as they remember doing, “I focused on you, somehow, and then, poof,” Aofil throws out their arms. Their balance on the chair shifts, and a leg breaks. They fall down and land on their back.“So yeah,” they tilt their neck down over their chest, “you have any clue?”

No answer.

Aofil’s head slams back down on the grass, staring at the stars above. Their eyes dart around the sky with no real purpose besides staying busy. “One day you’ll be bored looking up at these, Asriel. I think that day will be a good indication that you’ve adapted to the Surface.”

No answer, just silence. Silence so loud that Aofil can’t hear themselves shouting to stay awake.

“aof!”

Aofil jolts awake with a frightened gasp.

“where’s asriel?”

Is he gone? No! No, he can’t be. Aofil looks around desperately, their neck hurts in the process, but they find Asriel laying in the same place, still sobbing. Aofil sighs in relief, but on the upside they feel that their heart is now racing. Should wake them up somewhat. They direct Sans to Asriel with their finger, and he drags Aofil along.

“you better have a damn good reason for pulling that stunt of yours!”

Aofil massages their eyes awake. “Yeah, sure,” they answer without really hearing the question.

Sans wraps his hand around Aofil’s wrist, and grabs hold of Asriel. A second later the chilly night air is replaced with the comforting warmth and smell of home.

As the wind fades a loud and jarring smash scares Aofil a bit more awake. They see Toriel and Asgore staring at them. With a weary hand and smile they present Asriel to them.

“No,” Asgore whispers.

OK, now Aofil is definitely awake.


	61. A future left behind

"Mom? Dad?"

The questions bounce around the room, fading into the wooden walls as the silence deafens it. Asriel’s smile shines like the brightest of midday suns as he holds his breath for his parents to realize that it’s him. He waits for them to welcome him back, but they’re still. He perks his ears towards them, but there’s no answer.

Toriel and Asgore don't move, they can't move. Asriel’s eyes switch from one to the other, but he just petrifies them further. “Mom?” His muzzle starts shaking as she stares at him with her mouth bent in panic and despair. “Dad?” he asks with a quivering and desperate bleat. He looks at them in fear as he recognizes the dread in their eyes. It’s the same way they looked at him as he begged for them to help him, begged for them to save him. He didn’t want to die, he was so scared. They looked at him with the same sorrow that’s piercing him now. Straight through him, but why? He’s not fading away, can’t they see that! He’s back, he’s alive again. He’s been saved, just like them he’s saved. He’s no longer a memory, he’s no longer a flower. Despite everything, he’s him again, and despite everything, he’s with them again. They are a family again! So why don’t they answer him? He takes a step towards them, and they both recoil.

Seeing his parents flinch in fear, Asriel freezes in place. He looks at them again pleadingly, but it only scares them more. He takes another step, but this time he’s stopped.

“No,” Asgore whispers again. “It cannot be. How?” His voice is distant and hollow. The king that could topple mountains with his voice can’t muster enough strength to harm a fly. He struggles to even process what he’s seeing. “Asriel? Is it you? What’s happened to you?”

Asriel cries in agony as he falls to the ground. He looks at his wounds, and cups his hand under them. A stream of dust falls into his hands and he snaps his head towards his parents. “Mom! Dad!” he cries with a voice that scares him. It’s not his, but it’s just as terrified as he is. At his knees lies Chara's corpse. He doesn't have the strength to carry their best friend any longer!

With a careful hand Toriel navigates her way around the table, pushing the chairs away from her carefully. “My child,” she mouths, not having enough strength to speak. He’s injured, she must help him. She summons her entire being to help him, but it’s to no use. Asriel stops shaking for a second as he realizes why his mother’s eyes has become as distant as the horizon on the Surface that he just came back from. He tries to ask her for help, but it hurts too much. Again he cries as he feels more and more of him fade away.

Toriel can’t help him. She can’t help her own son. He’s in pain, and she can’t do anything to help him. She’s failed him, and because of that she’ll never see him again. She wants to heal him. She’s the Queen, she should be strong enough to heal him, but more importantly, she is his mother! Her efforts pains him just as much as it pains her. He looks at her with her own eyes, and she sees herself in the torrent of tears streaming down his cheeks. He begs for her to save him. Her son, her everything, is fading away in front of her eyes. She doesn’t have enough strength to hide her own tears, but she has too. She can’t allow herself to terrify him more than he already is. Gently, and with the warmest smile she can summon, she sinks down on her knees in front of Asriel to meet his head with hers, and with a comforting yet fearful hand she lets Asriel terrified cheek sink into her palm.

Her hand twitches down so it can catch whatever dust it can from his fading body, but it catches something solid instead. A familiar weight falls into her hand. The soft fur sways against her hand as it bounces gently against it and finally settling itself peacefully as it did so long ago. The feeling travels up her arm and throughout her body. A haze fades from her head as she realizes. This isn’t his dust, this is him! Her entire being sinks down in relief and her face struggles to find the right emotion. She wants to weep, but she also knows it can’t. She’s a mother again, and she has to be strong for her child. She can’t show her fear, not when they both know that he’s dying. She feels herself getting lost in the haze again.

“No!” she shouts angrily, shaking her head to try and scare it away again. She’s not in the Underground! She’s on the Surface, the Barrier has been broken, and in her hand, weighing down on her, is her child! She had almost forgotten it, the shape of his skull, and the small and smooth horns that tickles her when she runs her thumb over it. She finally looks down and meets the eyes that look just like hers, this time they’re not begging for her to save him, they’re begging for her to open her own. She has to do it, for him.

“Asriel,” she whispers before embracing him and pulling him against her forcefully yet with care that towers above it. Once he’s safely against her, once she finally feel her own son against her, she falls over. With a wail that’s just as hopeful as it is sorrowful she burrows her face into his back. “My child!” she cries out. The grief and pain in her voice sweeps the large house like a tidal wave. She throws the blue and battered jacket away and wraps Asriel in her robe. She looks at him again, and another pained howl fills the room. “My child! Asriel!”

A large hand is placed on her shoulder, and she tenses up. Her head shoots up to meet Asgore’s. She meets his eyes with her own deeply conflicting ones. Hatred burns within her, but she senses that there’s hope as well. If Asriel is back, then could she do the impossible as well?

Asgore slowly lowers himself down to Toriel, and with his other hand he tilts Asriel’s head towards him. He tries to smile, but it fails. He tries to cry, but it fails. He runs his hand underneath Asriel, and lifts him up to him. Asgore places his forehead against Asriel’s, and collapses in tears.

He drags Toriel’s shoulder closer hesitantly. She tenses it against his hand at first, but eventually she allows him. Asgore’s arm wraps around her like a shield, protecting her and his son from anyone that would take them away from him again.

“My son,” he cries softly. “My child,” he repeats in tandem with Toriel. With another warm squeeze he drags them closer to him. The small horns on Asriel’s head pokes him in his chest, and Asgore’s eyes shoot wide open. His face becomes distant, causing both Toriel and Asriel to stare in frightened suspense.

His arms loosens from them as he stares at his hands. He tries to stand up, but his legs fail him. He stumbles down on the sofa next to him, crushing it in the process. The loud and jarring crash doesn’t connect with him. His head disappears into his quivering hands. “The kids,” he breathes out with a whimper. “The slaughter.” His face twists as he realizes what this means. “My sins. Everything I did, all those lives lost. They-” he tries to swallow his contempt for himself, but it has the opposite effect. “All for nothing!” he roars. The entire room covers their ringing ears as Asgore’s breath quickens in terror.

He blinks, and finds himself in his throne room again. The flowers around him are stained with blood, and his trident is tugging in his hand. At the end of it is a small human child, the fifth soul, struggling to breathe its last. The face is twisted in pain and horrific panic. It stares back at him with eyes praying for him to undo what he just did. A snake of blood slithers down his hand. It’s warm to the touch, and settles comfortably in his hand. The trident stops moving, and the body on the other end as well. One less to wait for. The room is filled with a colorful light that forces him to avert his eyes. It’s too bright, both for his eyes, and for his conscience. He knows it’s awful, he knows it’s wrong, but he has to do it. He made a promise, to his son.

Asgore looks down at the crimson fur on his hand. It’s heavy, so heavy. He closes his palm, and a small whimper catches his ears. He looks up again at the still human, and the soul above it. He reaches out for it, he can’t let it escape, but his hand doesn’t follow. It yanks him back onto the sofa. He looks down at it again, and sees another hand in his. It’s small, and it’s in pain. He moves his eyes up the arm, finally reaching the same eyes his wife have. Another whimper catches his ears again, but this time there’s a word attached to it. “Dad?” the whimper asks carefully.

“Asriel, is that really you?” Asgore asks back, but he fears the answer. Is his son really back? After all the killing, all the blood on his hand. The only thing Asgore had against his sins, the one thing he could say to himself that because of it, everything was justified, that reason is now standing in front of him. The same sadness that triggered his vengeance is standing there, alive. The reason he swore to kill, the reason he swore slaughter upon the humans, has been brought back to him.

As innocent as the day he was born, Asriel smiles happily to his father. “Yes,” he sobs happily, drying a tear from his eye. “It’s me, dad.”

Asgore flinches as his sins sink their claws into his back. His only reasons is gone, and only he’s to blame.

He collapses on his knees as the pain saps all of his energy. The soul above the lifeless doll that was just recently a human is violently trying to hold itself together. Asgore clenches his bloodied hands. He’s not doing this for his son anymore, he’s killing without a reason. No king does that! Hope isn’t born out of death! What king treats guests to his realm with death? The haze envelops his mind, and the screams of the children he barely held out against now overwhelms him with their song of sorrow and hate.

“Dad!” Asriel bleats with all his might, “Dad, I’m here!” but no effect. A careful and calming hand places itself on Asriel’s shoulder. He turns around and is pushed away ever so gently by Toriel. She cups Asgore’s chin in her hands and tilts it up to her face. Her nose touches his, and she drags him closer to her.

“Asgore,” she whispers. “I’m ready.”

His face and body turns into stone as the quiet words make their way through the screams. Like a siren piercing its way through the mist he follows the source. Eventually he sees it, kneeling right in front of him. It’s his heart, his love, his queen, his half that will always be better than him.

She smiles at him. “I’m ready for a new chapter, Asgore.”

The haze parts away from Asgore, and the shining rays of his wife’s smile warms his face. He puts a hand on her cheek, and she leans into it. He looks down at his son, who embraces them both. He sinks down with them, and they all weep for, and with, each other.

Sans motions for Alphys and Undyne to leave through the kitchen, and beckons for Aofil and Frisk to follow him. As they turn into the hallway the floor underneath Aofil creaks, and it catches Asriel’s ear. He swirls it around. “Frisk!” he yells as he shakes his ear off his muzzle.

They turn around to see the three boss monsters holding their arms wide open for them, and with a congratulatory nod from Aofil, and after giving them a quick but firm hug, Frisk dives into their new family’s embrace.

Aofil enjoys the spectacle for a while. Frisk waves for them to join, but Aofil puts up a hand in refusal, “Sorry,” before rounding the corner into the hallway. "I can't."

“i’m going to grillby’s to celebrate,” Sans informs with the same low key tone to his voice as always. “care to join, aof? i’m sure we can figure out a way to take what you ordered off of my tab.”

“No, I’m heading for bed. Got a long day tomorrow.”

They make their way up the stairs only to meet Sans and a small breeze. “i was only joking, you know? i’d treat you to mtt if i had the stomach for it,” Sans runs a finger across his ribs, “but, you know.”

Aofil ignores him and closes the bedroom door behind them. The springs in their bed squeak as Sans shortcuts on it. “aof, seriously.”

“I am. Get off my bed, Sans.”

“could you at least spare time for a water sausage?”

Aofil furrows their brow in angered exhaustion. “Sans.”

“no,” he states sternly. “we’re celebrating you saving us.”

Aofil rubs their forehead tiredly. “Sans, I’m moving tomorrow.”

Sans blinks, “oh,” and despite it being permanent on him, his smile fades in spirit, “um, closer to us? i know that there’s a house vacant near us. not talking about the one undyne burned down, just to be clear.”

“I’m moving away, Sans,” Aofil sighs. “Away from all of this. If Asriel didn’t fix their memories then me leaving is the next best thing for them, and the first best thing for me. I can’t be around you, not anymore. Heck, I never really could.”

“could you at least sleep on it, aof?” Aofil throws their hand against him. “oh,” he realizes, and jumps down from the bed. His hand rests on the doorknob as Aofil slips in under their cover. “i’ll have the tea ready for you when you wake up.”

He only gets a weak hum as an answer, but he still nods with it. ”good.”

He stops the door just as it’s about to close behind him and looks over his shoulder. “i’ll tell the others not to bother you, sounds good?”

Aofil turns on their side with their back against Sans.

“take care, aofil.”

The door is closed silently.

Aofil opens their eyes to silence. With a tired hand they rub the intense morning sun that woke them up out of their eyes with their hand. It feels a bit weird. They grab it with their other with a dreaded gasp, but they discover that it was only their cover sticking to it. With a relieved sigh they scratch their head, only to find strands of white fur as they bring it back before them. They quickly grab a tuft from their hair and rip it out. Breathing heavily against the pain, they inspect the hairs in their hand. It doesn’t feel like fur, and it’s not white. Aofil exhales and falls back onto their pillow. They stare at the ceiling for a while. The sun is bathing their bedroom in intense light, so Aofil puts their other arm over their face, and sneeze as it tickles their nose.

With a grumble they dry it off with their arm, only to have it disturbed again. They sneeze again, and to their complete dismay they find the reason for it. On their arm, where it was broken, is a patch of glistening white fur. It runs the length of their forearm.

“Goddammit,” they groan as they let the arm fall down heavily on the bed. “God fucking dammit.”

Aofil shakes their head, this is not what they needed right now. As they swing their legs over the edge of the bed they spot a purple sweater hanging over a chair. They try to instantly forget what they just saw, and head for the door.

They grab the doorknob, but it was already open. Their head turns back to the sweater, and then the white strands of fur on their bed. “Goddammit,” they repeat to themselves.

The silent husk of their hairdryer is still on their bathroom sink. Aofil hoists it up by the cable and tosses it in the bin where it lands with a unglamarous crash. They retrieve a pair scissors from the cabinet underneath the sink and with their arm over the toilet they cut as much fur away as possible. They hope that it’s just a one time thing, but they don’t believe it.

Once downstairs and inside their kitchen Aofil finds their kettle hovering delicately on top of a small flame. It disperses as Aofil grabs the handle. They know what’s inside the kettle, they could’ve guessed even without the sweet and sour smell rising from it.

It takes some effort, but Aofil finally manages to scrape out both the smell and taste from the kettle. They fill it with water again and place it on their stove. As it heats up they walk over to their phone. They dial the number, and after just one tone it connects. “Mt. Ebott real estate,” answers the other end.

Disturbed gravel wakes Aofil from their thoughts. They straighten themselves on the bench as another one joins them. “Child.”

“Forgive me, but I’m not in the mood, father,” Aofil responds distantly. Yesterday's morning is still swimming inside their head.

The pastor nods. “Then I’ll tend to the others.” He places a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about your family though, they’ll be here whenever you want to visit.”

Aofil nods absently, and barely notices the pastor leaving. Good thing he did though, Aofil has enough to deal within a minute, they don’t need the pastor to be here as well. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes as well, but the later the better. Hopefully by then Asgore can manage to spin it in his favor.

Or something. Aofil's not sure anymore.

They pat their side pocket and straighten themselves further. A letter made out of lead is in their pocket, but this time they wrote it themselves. It was a bit awkward writing with a pair of gloves on, but again, it’s better for all if Asgore can figure out a way to minimize the damage. The damage has to be done though, otherwise it will end worse than what happened before.

Has it already ended worse than before? Aofil can’t tell, honestly. They also feel the fur stubble on their arm grind against their long sleeve as they again readjusts themselves on the bench.

Aofil sighs. “Goddammit.”

The gravel path is not long after disturbed again. It’s from more than one pair of footsteps this time. Aofil stands up to meet the Dreemurrs, all four of them.

With tears in her eyes and with her hands concealing a beaming smile, Toriel waves to Aofil. They return it weakly. She removes her hands from her mouth and onto her chest. “Aofil,” she starts, but Aofil stops her. They bend over and dust off the tombstone next to them. They know that they threatened Asriel if he were to talk about them, and that it is unfair of Aofil to go ahead and do this, but they have to.

“These were Chara’s parents,” Aofil informs. “I figured you should know.”

And with that Aofil turns on their heel. Toriel or Asgore will figure out soon enough, so Aofil should get some distance while they can.

The iron gate squeaks as Aofil closes it behind them. A second later they hear their name being called. Their last name as well.

But nobody will come.

Aofil enters the taxi they came with. The driver closes her book and tilts the mirror to see Aofil. “We going?”

Aofil nods as they look out the passenger window. They see the Dreemurrs, and their heartache. Aofil doesn’t feel anything though, not anymore.

“That the monsters?” the driver asks. “Weird seeing them at the graveyard, did you meet them?”

“No.”

“Hm. I tell you, it’s gonna be interesting with them around from now.”

Aofil loses sight of them as the taxi turns onto the main road.

“Yeah, sure.”


	62. Reminiscing about what did and didn't happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Cover image made by the incredible PolarisSketches!](https://polarissketches.tumblr.com/post/168968758113/commission-by-the-author-congar-from-archive-of)

“You woke up to the same silence, to the same ray of sun slashing the bed at the same angle as always. This morning, however, was different. You felt something, a rush of energy surging through you. With unfamiliar spring in your knees you decided to go for a run. Why? You just had this feeling, right? Call it magical if you will, but that would be spoiling it, don't you think?

Anyway, after a quick stop to greet the family that left you behind, you set off up towards Mt. Ebott. One of many times to come, but you didn’t know that, not at this time at least.

You reached the plateau after some pained effort. The setting sun blinding you as you took some rest while swinging your legs over the edge overlooking your town. Then you heard a sound, a voice. You turn around to meet it, but the only mouth you saw was that of a cave. Curiously, you peeked inside, and scared you bolted away from the monsters closing in on you. You tripped, and landed head first on a stone. Also one of many times to come. You should really have that head looked at. Although, there are worse things to happen to it, and the rest of you.

So, after a quicker run down the mountain, and with the encourage of Undyne, you arrived home in record time. Still with your head pounding you collapsed in Undyne’s arms. Don’t tell Alphys about it, she’ll be jealous.

The morning after you were greeted to legends walking around in your kitchen. Lizards, fish, and even skeletons. Pretty scary, right? One would think that, but perhaps the nostalgic warmth of family and friends smothered that anxiety. Who knows? To be honest, I don’t think even you know that.

Turns out the legends were friendly, who would’ve thought? Not you, obviously, not now, but back then you didn’t have this baggage. Heck, you didn’t even have the bags to back it. They told you that they came from a place called the Underground located deep beneath Mt Ebott. Yes, I know, you’re all familiar with it, you know every nook and cranny of it, but you didn’t back then. You didn’t even know the difference between a Vulkin or a Radentim, but I’ll get there, don’t worry. I’m trying to build up some atmosphere here, do you mind?

So, you sampled the wonderful world of taste that the Underground had to offer the hungry and thirsty. Spaghetti as stiff as a load bearing cement pillar, snails salted to a mushy paste, and last you had Golden Flower tea. That you pretty much fell in love with though.

You learned about the monsters plan to return to the Surface, their new chapter, and you were invited to write it with them. Which was great, it meant that you now had a job! There was a small formality of an interview first, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

First you had to stock up on food. You had pretty much been living on the lowest form of food for way longer than acceptable, and your new chapter demanded effort. So why not start with filling the empty pantry?

Which you did, perhaps a bit too much. The cart was overflowing even before you began looking for the cashiers. No way that you would be able to carry it all home alone. So you chose a motorized wheelbarrow to help you carry it home.

Fair enough, I guess.

After you rolled the wheelbarrow home it was time for the interview. And what an interview it was! Seeing magic for the first time, again, first time you remember seeing it, but I digress. Seeing something that wonderful and having friends that would share something that intimate with you, it almost split your cheeks apart in glee. It felt a bit weird though, this magic, but it was probably your hunger. Actually, it felt pretty good. Didn’t stop you from lashing out against Toriel’s decision not to have you teach the kids magic, but it was probably your hunger again. Not even science, since it’s a derivative of magic. Or at least, that’s what the monsters thought before you showed them how humans saw the world. Fascinated, Toriel gave you the position.

There was this dream you had about her though, with her leaning into you and whispering into your ear. The whisper quickly turned into a shout as Papyrus woke you up. Like the good friend he is he reminded you to wake up not to be late for your first day at work!

The eyes of the monster kids as you explained just basic concept. According to you, that is. Like how rain fell from the sky, or how water can turn into vapor. Oh, you could go on for ages! But, lunch first, lunch with Toriel to be specific. You hurt yourself as much as you hurt her when you declined her offer to eat together at a restaurant, but she understood why. You haven’t really gotten over monsters existing yet, not fully, so how would literally anyone else react to seeing one, and with a human to boot!

Still, she was disappointed, and you could see it on her. Cheekily you accidentally suggested snails, and she agreed. Much to your dismay and fear. But hey, at least it cheered her up!

For the moment.

Where to find any? Sans suggested some on the side of the road, but you politely declined. In your quest you almost drowned in a sea of people, but a shortcut, one of many, later, you and Sans managed to escape it. You walked around with him for some time before finally finding a snail shop.

How and why it exists, or if it still does, we may never know.

Be it because of the fumes from the snail shop still hazing your mind, or be it because you were just plain stupid, you messed up with the delivery to Toriel. Couldn’t say that you didn’t know what flavor the snails were, because Sans picked them. So instead, you deiced that teasing her was the better option.

Like I said, should’ve gotten your head checked, but you were probably too busy using it as an excuse not to fight Undyne.

Half a goose chase later you finally found Sans again, and with one raised eyebrow and the other one furrowed in confusion he informed you that the flavor was on the container. With this in mind you managed to convince Toriel that it was just a joke, and motherly as she is, she forgave you. She invited you to her house, like a mother would, and she gave you tea and pastry, just like your mother did.

She caressed your chin as your mother’s image flooded back to you, she took you in as the thoughts overwhelmed you, and she comforted you when you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

But it wasn’t your fault, child. It wasn’t your fault.

Guess you reminded her of someone as well.

After you two had your moments together she asked you to take care of Frisk for their soccer practice while she ran away on an urgent meeting. You two had a nice walk together, but it was clear that Frisk didn’t want anything to do with the other kids.

Word had spread, and Frisk was now the monster kid. Being a monster among humans is not for the weak of heart, or soul. Not Frisk though, their heart is strong, and you could see it. So much so that you gave them a ride home on your shoulders. Toriel was so overwhelmed that she gave you an entire pie as a reward.

Just as planned.

Not one to deny visual metaphors, and not one to get the most use out of a questionable purchase, you brought the wheelbarrow with you to work. On your way there you were stopped by the builder that encouraged you to buy the wheelbarrow, and from him you learned about ‘Above School’ and ‘Above Laboratory’. The builder also let it slip that he knew your dad, and that he shared this because of a debt he felt he owed. You pressed him, but he wouldn’t tell.

You weren’t ready.

But that had to wait, you had teaching to do. This time with Undyne. She was a great help in demonstrating how dropped objects hit the ground at the same time as thrown objects. A simple demonstration how gravity works. Well, they would’ve done that if her spear didn’t crash into the office door where Toriel sat. Undyne decided that leaving silently through the window might be the best course of action.

Class went well despite the violent knock on Toriel’s door, and on your way home you met Alphys. Visibly anxious and desperate, she begged you for help. She had to get to the Underground, but Papyrus wasn’t anywhere near her to help, nor was Undyne. You looked down at your wheelbarrow, and after some fierce debating in your head, you agreed to help.

Up the mountain, and then down the mountain you rolled her, seeing the Underground for the first time. The formless corridor where the Barrier once stood, the vast gray horizon of New Home, and the sweatiness of Hotland.

You and Alphys bumbled your way into the Lab, and broke your wheelbarrow in the process. As the final guest, plus one, arrived, Asgore could finally tour the Underground with his human entourage consisting of influential humans, and apparently now you as well.

But you can’t join it dressed in a sweat shirt and track pants. Luckily, Alphys offered her shower and wardrobe to you, and her human clothing. Pink and yellow clothing with a matching cape, tiara, shoulder pads, and cat shoes.

Just like one of her human anime!

And anime is best when on TV, so when Mettaton arrived to pick up some spare parts for himself, he couldn’t let you waste your new potential, so with a signature that he signed with your hand you were now a guest to his show. After a quick stop to Radentim, his make up monster, you now looked exactly like the character your clothing suggested you were. The same gender as well.

The show went well, until Papyrus and Undyne crashed through the scene and rescued you from hearing what happened with the other kids that fell. Asgore’s order, Papyrus explained as he left you in Hotland to hurry back home in time to catch Mettaton’s show.

Sweaty and confused you had yourself an ice cream before deciding to try and catch up to Asgore and the humans. The path you chose turned out to be a bit more spidery than you liked though, and before you knew it, you were having tea with Muffet. With some quick thinking and with a peck on her cheek, you managed to escape her grasp.

You allowed yourself a moment to stuff your mouth full of your cape, and scream your fears into it.

Waterfall fared a bit better, after the confusing run in with the Temmies, that is. Gerson saw your perplexed state and offered you some tea in exchange that you talked with him for a while. Didn’t sound like the worst idea so you happily accepted the offer.

After some reminiscing about the royal wedding he invited you to do it on your own. He presented you a gift given to him for his services during it. A memory box, containing his memories about the event. After a flash of light you opened his eyes as your own. You were Gerson at the wedding, and you saw the magnificence of a Underground with pride and hope.

After watching Asgore recover from a slip up from Toriel you were dragged back to reality. His memories faded from your head after a couple of minutes, but before they were completely gone you were quizzical why your hand had five fingers instead of four. After you remembered that five fingers is the correct amount Gerson thanked you for your company and gave you directions to catch up with the human group.

The rest of your trip through Waterfall went by with just some minor hiccups, considering, and while tucking in an Echo Flower that you picked, you reached Snowdin. A sign caught your eye, and as the helpful person you are, you decided to enter this ‘Librarby‘ and inform the owner that their sign is misspelled.

Inside you met Sans, who were handing in some books from the Surface. After being harshly shushed by the owner from greeting Sans a bit too loud, you were welcomed into the store. You had a quick chat and was recommended a best seller, ‘I woke up human!’. It centers around a monster being turned into a ugly human and being shunned for being ugly and a human.

You promised you would finish it if you ever found time in your schedule. Still, you thanked the librabrian for the gift and left with Sans. Hearing your stomach rumble he suggested Grillby’s.

You told him about your travels through the Underground, and when he heard about the memory box he excused himself and dashed out of the restaurant. It was the fastest you’ve ever seen him move.

He told you he’d be back soon, but soon quickly turned into much later, yet still he didn’t return. Being an alone human in a tavern full of monsters wasn’t really what you had planned for the day. As you tried to leave you bumped into something metallic. You were forced back down into the seat and before you knew it, you were surrounded by hounds. They inspected you, and threw you a bone, so that you could throw it for them. They carried you outside as you failed to grasp what was going on, and again you were given the bone. You tossed it, and the dogs gave chase.

You played with them until their shift started. They thanked you, and went on their way. Left alone again, you wondered if Sans might be back at Grillby’s. As you turned back towards Snowdin you heard laughter from behind you.

A familiar silhouette stood in some mist, and when you spotted it it turned around and headed away from town. You gave chase, but Sans seemed to always be one step ahead. You eventually came across a large stone door. The laughter continued behind it so you entered.

Through a house you continued your chase, through some strange ruins, and finally you caught him standing in the middle of a patch of flowers. Carefully you approached him, but a vine snatched your legs and hoisted you up. The laughter turned into a roar, and as you managed to escape you realized that it wasn’t Sans’ voice.

His form burst into roots and disappeared into the ground. Left standing was a flower just barely taller than the others. It introduced itself as Flowey, and politely asked you to reset. When you couldn’t, he shrugged his vines and said that he tried to be nice, but evidently it didn’t work. When he couldn’t convince your soul to show, he attacked you.

You put up a fierce battle with him, but he tricked you. He left you barely clinging for life, but that was only what he had planned for you body. Your soul is what he wanted, and just as he was about to get it, he was hit with a ball of fire.

Flowey retreated down into the ground as Asgore rushed to you. He demanded the humans summoned help, and as your vision faded, he promised you would survive.

The next thing you remembered was being jolted awake by men in suits. Before you could understand that you were in a hospital they started questioning you about what you heard during your time in the Underground. In your pain and panic you let it slip that you heard something about dead humans.

What follows is a haze of waking up and losing consciousness again, eventually you learned that you were under legal protection, sparked by the rude awakening the men in suits gave you. Monster Lawyer, Monster Kid’s dad, introduced himself to you as your legal representative. He expressed great interest in your case, and was happy to have you as a client. You extended your hand to thank him.

While the gesture might’ve been a bit fruitless, he at least appreciated the thought behind it.

Rehabilitation is a tough road to walk, whether Undyne helped or made it harder, that you’re still debating about, but nevertheless, you walked it to be able to walk again. It took some time, and some effort, but eventually you were discharged with a pair of crutches. Papyrus gave you a ride home, and a nicely cooked meal for once. After you helped him with it, of course.

An old friend also greeted you, and you immediately questioned why it was even able to do it. Alphys admitted that she used some spare parts to repair your wheelbarrow, she even gave it a pair of legs that even Mettaton would be jealous of.

With spring finally back in your knees you returned to teaching the monster kids about the new world around them.

For about five minutes.

Another group of suits interrupted your lesson, and after you finished it you were handed a letter. You were summoned to a hearing regarding the monsters returning to the Surface. You were asked as a witness by the humans. Because of the nature of the trial you were also forbidden to have any sort of contact with them until the court’s closed.

Bogged down with this, you decided you needed some legal advice, or maybe just a way to vent. You sat down next to your family and tried to make sense of things. It didn’t go so well, and in your failed attempts you attracted the pastor. He reminded you that despite not being able to forgive what your parents did, he still mourned their deaths, like with everyone under his wings. He showed you a scar that looked just like one you had. The same vicious cut, and he told you that the monsters had that name for a reason. Some legends are true, and some turn to dust. Your family knew that.

With this in mind you rushed as fast as you could to the building site. You demanded that the builder told you what he knew about your dad.

You still weren’t ready, but that didn’t matter now.

He told you what happened all those years ago. You and your family were tending your summer home on the other side of Mt. Ebott when a creature came from the forest carrying a child. The builder approached the monster as it fell down on its knees.

He was slashed wide open by the monster. He remembered the other humans driving the monster away, and he remembered crying for his wife and kids. Your father came up to him, and healed him.

Not a minute after the builder stood up, he was weak, but he was alive. He turned to thank your father, but he couldn’t find him anywhere close.

Your father had left the builder, and had approached the smoke left behind by the monster. A red glow was fading away in it, but your dad forced it back into the still body. A piece broke off and disappeared before your father could grab it, and the builder’s spine tingled as the pained howl your father let out still haunted him to this day.

The pastor warned your family about this, he warned them about the curse, but they wouldn’t listen. They were responsible for the attack.

And now both the pastor and the builder were to testify in court, but the monsters had chosen the builder.

They arrived to discuss with the builder, and you had to hide. In your haste you picked up a clipboard and made yourself look busy. With some luck you managed to slip past Asgore and Monster Lawyer’s surprise visit.

You had no idea what to make of the builder’s story, but you knew where you would find out. The village where it all started.

After a bumpy ride on your wheelbarrow you arrived at the abandoned community. There was something there, a thick aura that covered the place. You felt it inside you, and in the middle of it you saw a patch of withered flowers. An outline of a small human child caught your eye, and with heavy legs you walked closer.

The aura became thicker the more you approached the flowers. Your face blossomed, your legs felt stronger. You tossed your crutches away, you didn’t need them anymore. You stood tall over the pathetic mark you left behind so many years ago. You started to think, about the trial, about the monsters. How weak they really were, how they dared to demand equal footing with you humans.

An invisible hand squeezed your heart, draining whatever strength you received. You fell over, and had it not been for your wheelbarrow carrying you home, well, you don’t really know what the hell would’ve happened.

You arrived home parched and weak, but before you could fully rest you were summoned to the trial, effective immediately. The paper had found out about it, and both parties had agreed that sooner is better. You were given a sandwich and hauled to the court.

The trial, a chance for the humans and monsters to reconcile old hatred and bury the hatch. What really happened, was a bit different. The humans had found out what an Echo Flower was, and they had managed to get their hands on the one your wore during your encounter with Flowey.

Feeling a corner close in on him, Asgore decided to play his trump card. He summoned the pastor, and had him explain the legend of the crimson heart. A heart said to hold immense power, but that power wasn’t stable. Uncontrollable, almost. The beings possessed with this soul were said to be a great weapon, but untameable.

Asgore explained that one of these cursed beings had fused with his son, and because of that he had done what he did. A curse had shattered the Underground that day, and it still echoed throughout the Underground until the Barrier was finally shattered.

One with this curse had been summoned to the trial, and they were now invited up to the confession booth. All eyes were upon you, and you took your place.

Asgore begged for your forgiveness as he summoned the curse from within you. You became possessed by it, and monster and human alike cowered as you threatened anyone that would stand in your way.

You were quickly taken care of by a shock pistol from behind. Your unconscious body was escorted out of the court, and it continued without you.

As a thanks for your service, and as a gesture of goodwill, you and Toriel were invited to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. It was cut short though as you were then invited to the revealing of the brand new and shining example of human and monster cooperation, Above Laboratory. Well, it wasn’t completely done, but it was done enough to warrant celebrating.

After the first half of a very boring tour you were dragged to the side by Sans. Your contributions to monsterkind had not gone unnoticed, and to congratulate you on that Asgore had given you access to the building. Sans just gave you the card a bit earlier since he was also curious what was going on. Frisk as well.

Sans took keen interest in the most ominous door, and when you pointed it out to him, he waved it away. You three entered to find Alphys tinkering with a machine the likes you’ve never seen. As fascinating as it was scary, and as scary as it was confusing. As Sans started it up you took notice of a familiar clipboard lying on a nearby table. You recognized the handwriting on it, it was your own. You didn’t have time to warn them before the machine started collapsing on itself. You grabbed Frisk and ran.

With the void right behind you, consuming everything it could find, you ran for your and Frisk’s life, but you weren’t fast enough.

You woke up to the same silence, to the same ray of sun slashing the bed at the same angle as always. This morning however, was different. You felt something, a rush of energy surging through you. With unfamiliar spring in your knees you decided to go for a run. Why? You just felt like it, right? Call it magical if you will.

Anyway, after a quick stop to greet the family that left you behind, you set off up towards Mt. Ebott. One of many times to come.

You reached the plateau after some pained effort. The setting sun blinding you as you took some rest while swinging your legs over the edge overlooking your town. Then you heard a sound, a voice. You turn around to meet it, but the only mouth you saw was that of a cave. Curious you peeked inside, and scared you bolted away from the monsters closing in on you. You tripped, and after a long fall, you landed on a patch of flowers.

Then you met me, your twin. I did you the favor of telling you everything that had happened so that you wouldn’t make the same mistake you did before Frisk was forced to reset. With the help of your family, I set your head and broken soul together again, and gave you a second chance.

You only had to do one favor for me, bring back Asriel. I didn’t exactly say it to you, but I figured the implication was good enough.

Turns out it wasn’t just me that wanted him back, but maybe not for the same reasons. Thanks to you forcing Frisk to reset the memories of it lingered with your friends. They struggled to separate what didn’t happen, and what was actually happening. They had been spared that fate the first time you met because of you being such a big change in their life that the previous resets didn’t apply anymore.

Who else could do the same?

Asriel.

So, you hatched a plan together with Sans and Frisk. You were to try and convince Flowey to follow you back up to the Surface, but disguised as his best friend. This way you would have the biggest chance of success.

So you prepared, you watched our tapes, you went clothes shopping, and you had a haircut. All to be as much as your twin as possible, both in looks, and in manner.

Making your way down to the Underground again, you danced around as me, you tried to lure him out, but he wouldn’t show himself. Not in Asgore’s throne room, not in the CORE, not in MTT Hotel, not even in Hotland. He was nowhere to be found.

During your search you came across something else though. Another level to the Lab, and the secrets it held.

Secrets you were lied to about, and boy did you let Sans and Frisk know how you felt about it. So much so that Sans figured that you weren’t you anymore, and attacked. You held your own against him, but you didn’t win without taking a few hits too many. Just as you were about to collapse you were grabbed by a vine. A soft flower leaned over your face.

He promised he would heal you, his best friend.

You woke up in a bed too small for you. Blood stained your entire being. Hunger and thirst plagued you, your entire body screamed in pain, but you were alive. You were alone though, and Flowey was again nowhere to be found. You had to go after him, again, but not in the state you were, and not in the clothing you wore.

Luckily you found some food to eat and some clothes to wear. Unfortunately Toriel’s robe weren’t exactly your size, but it had to do. A blue jacket you also wore, its previous owner now just a pile of dust underneath a boulder. Again limping from your encounter with Flowey, you made yourself through the Underground.

Once in Snowdin you ran into Asgore and the human tour. He had some questions about your familiar attire. You were lucky he had more pressing matters on his mind, and by the skin of your teeth, you managed to continue without a pair of guards escorting you.

Your clothing drew a bit more attention in the Waterfall, especially the condiment stained jacket you had. With a well placed leg you tripped and fell into the dark water. A soap was tossed and instructions to wosh your jacket echoed as the sound of your loud splash died off.

Gerson heard you cussing out the Woshua and came to help, after you had washed yourself. He kindly offered to take the queen’s robes off of you and gave you some less conspicuous clothing.

With fresh clothes you navigated through a trap set by Mettaton, and arrived back at Hotland. After some small talk with Tsundere plane, who totally just did it because it had nothing else to do at the moment, really, you hitched a ride to MTT Hotel.

From there you found your way back to Asgore’s house. The door was unlocked, and slightly ajar. Someone else was there. You looked around the house, and in one room you found him. Flowey, dressed up as Asriel.

He quickly realized that you weren’t Chara the second you opened your mouth, and lunged at you. He easily toppled you over since you were so weak, but when he tried to escape you asked for his forgiveness. Curious, he stopped, and tried to pry some more out of you.

You explained your goal, and he scoffed at you. He asked you what would happen if he didn’t wanted Asriel to come back. Would you still force him?

You said that you wouldn’t, and that this wild chase had taken more out of you than bringing back Asriel would ever give you. It wasn’t worth it to chase him anymore, you were done. Flowey agreed to come with you, on the condition that you showed him where I lived before I fell into the Underground. You agreed to his terms.

As you arrived back home however, you were lured down into your basement. A new soul extractor, stolen by Sans, stood menacingly in the back end. With a blue glow Flowey was thrown into it, and with a bony finger, Sans switched it on.

He gave you an almost empty bag of fake dust he’d used to fool you that he was dead. He also told you that you were free to open the extractor and save Flowey, but that he would die if you did.

The process had already started.

So there you sat with Sans, waiting. Watching Flowey twist and flinch in agony. At last the machine finished its task with a cheerful ding. Sans gave you a memory box and told you to be ready to catch whatever soul came out of the hatch. You caught the bright white soul.

But not in the box. You caught it in your own soul.

Asriel’s essence spread around your body, changing your form into something that had only existed once before. You felt your mind fade away, and as soon as your form stopped changing, you fell down limp and unconscious.

You and Asriel traveled your mind until you met Chara and Flowey. After a hectic discussion Asriel joined Chara’s side, and you realized that he was a memory, the real soul inside you was Flowey. Chara wouldn’t let that be though. They hunted you down and ripped Flowey out of you, and forced Asriel in. They reminded you that the one you were supposed to bring back was Asriel, Chara’s Asriel. Not Flowey, not the one that realized who Chara actually was.

You awoke alone in your new form bound to the machine by a chain. Undyne stood guard over the foreign monster with her spear, threatening you to spill the beans before she spilled them for you. Sans thanked her for her enthusiasm, but her energy was best spent explaining what was happening to Toriel and Asgore. Before Undyne could loudly protest Sans shortcutted away with you and Frisk to try and wrestle Asriel out of you.

There’s one place that might work. The place where it all started.

The village.

Your head started spinning as soon as you stepped foot into it. Asriel’s memories mixed with your own. You saw yourself die, you saw Asriel run away, and you heard your parents cry.

But you fought him. You were determined to force him out of you. You dragged your combined soul out of you, and you ripped him out of it! You woke up shortly after still with fur on your chest, but it wasn’t yours.

It was Asriel’s.

He was back!

That means that your promise was fulfilled. With the burden of your friends memories removed from your shoulders you packed your things, and left them to their own future.”

Chara takes a dramatic breath of air.

“And that’s your story so far, Aofil.”

Aofil sighs and rubs their forehead. “Again you leave out some of the most important things, Chara. If anything I’m now less likely to believe what you said the first time. Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know.” Chara shrugs their shoulder. “I’m pretty sure that I’m just your head trying to make sense out of all this. To be honest, you kinda need to if you really intend to leave everything behind.”

“Well, I was on my way until you felt the need to bring it up again.” Aofil looks around the black nothing that they and Chara stand in. “So, this is just a dream? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

Aofil raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

A chuckle from Chara echoes throughout the void around. “Well,” they lean back into their hands behind their head, “that’s for you to decide.”

Aofil wakes up to the new silence, the new ray of sun slashing their bed at the new angle. They look at their alarm clock, still an hour or so before they have to get up. They turn to their side, and closes their eyes again.


	63. Echoes of a previous life

"And there it is, ladies and gentlemen. The first day of the trial to determine the shared future of monsters and humans has began on this cloudless day. The air around here is tense with expectations. What was not long ago just legends are now staking claim on a home they once inhabited. To say that the people are split about it is to be gravely underestimated. You sir, what are your thoughts on this?”

After rubbing the tiredness out of their eyes, Aofil reaches for the dial.

“YOU SEE!”

Their hand hesitates for a second.

“I, THE GREAT!”

The voice fades away as Aofil turns off their radio. They sigh at having to be reminded again, and curse under their breath before getting out of their bed. Their yawn bounces around the living room as they near their kitchen. Scrounging through their pantry, they eventually find the last bag of tea. They make a mental note to buy some more on the way home before putting their kettle on. It’s not long before the smell of generic tea fills their apartment.

As the water heats up Aofil makes their way to the bathroom. On the way they make a quick stop by the door to pick up today’s newspaper. They don’t make an effort to read it, but they still catch the headline out of the corner of their eye. Again they twist their lips into a frown and sigh. Guess they’re gonna have to be reminded of everything again, despite their best efforts not to.

They place the newspaper in their bathroom sink to prevent clogging. Their electric razor beeps as they take it off the charging station. They comb through the fur on their arm to get it as separated as possible so that their razor removes as much as possible. With a couple of methodical strokes on their forearm they cover the large headlines about the new monster city with a small shower of glistening white fur.

They rub the last strands off their arm and fold the newspaper over the small mounds of fur. They rinse the blades under the faucet, and return the razor to its charger next to the unused manual razors. There’s still some stubble left on their forearm, but Aofil isn’t gonna risk cutting an artery to get rid of it. They’ve already prepared an excuse for it so there’s no need to risk bleeding out on a consistent basis. Having different colored hair on your body than on your head isn’t rare, so Aofil’s sure that they’re gonna be in the clear about it.

With the fur out of the way they check their eyes in the mirror. They detect a faint red glow deep inside their iris. It’s not much, and no one except Aofil would notice it, but it’s there. They tap their cheeks and the surrounding skin. They’re not sure whether it is because they slept on their side or not, but their cheek feels just a bit warmer than the rest of their face.

They fill a small cup with water and fetch their medicine. They bounce a pill in their hand before looking at their eyes again. Aofil shakes out another pill, better not risk it. Not today. With a confident throw the pills hit the roof of Aofil’s mouth and they rinse the pills down with a mouthful of water. They put the lid back on the pill jar and drop it into their pocket. Again, better not risk it. Before they leave they clear their throat and spit some of the night’s determination into the sink to wash it away.

After a quick shower Aofil brings the folded newspaper along with its contents to the fireplace. They lit a match and throw it onto the newspaper. As the fire starts to spread they close the hatch to keep the smell of burning hair from escaping. They made that mistake once, and will never make it again.

The kettle whistles a sharp b tone, and Aofil pours themselves a cup. They rinse the taste of determination out of their mouth, and then proceeds with the rest of their breakfast.

Aofil brings a bowl of cereal out to the living room and opens a window to let some fresh air and sun in. The announcer on the radio was right, it is a cloudless day. Though that’s probably just a coincidence. Any weather forecast at Mt. Ebott isn’t gonna be representative of where Aofil lives now.

Not to say that Aofil doesn’t welcome the sun despite it shining the same on what they’ve tried to leave behind them. They still haven’t shaken off the habit of eating outside, and having the window open is their way of easing it out of their system.

What they haven’t found is a way to subdue the feeling of silence that’s present in their apartment. Sure, there’s traffic outside, but that’s just noise. There’s no life anymore, or, to be specific, it’s so much less than before that it could just as well be described as dead. Before all that happened, they had the same silence with every meal, with every minute, and with every second. It still tingles their spine a bit, but they’re making progress in trying to ignore it. Aofil’s has told themselves that the feeling is a side effect from their medicine. Despite the feeling, they’ll take that over what their medicine subdues any day of the week.

They know that it will fade once they get a goal in life, and today’s the day. Afterwards they just have to make it through their morning routine. Easy, compared to now. Still, it doesn’t help that they were reminded again, but they’ll roll with it.

Aofil taps their spoon on their bowl.

They’ll roll with it.

As they catch the clock Aofil hurries the rest of their breakfast down. They rinse their dishes before heading back to the bathroom to brush their teeth. With that done Aofil checks their eyes in the mirror again. The red inside their iris is gone, and their cheeks are the same temperature as the rest of their skin. No determination as they spit out the toothpaste either.

Good.

They still decide to bring along their pills, just to be safe.

With their backpack over their shoulder Aofil nods to one of their neighbor as they make it down the stairs. Aofil holds the door open for them and get a thankful nod back. The street outside is buzzing with the usual morning traffic, and Aofil joins the stream of people making their way to whatever life they have. After a bit of struggling, Aofil manages to untangle their headphone cable and puts on some music to calm themselves a bit. Both from what they heard, and where they’re going.

The subway station isn’t that far away from their apartment, and then, the school they’re heading to be interviewed at isn’t that far from one either, so all in all it’s a pretty easy commute should they land the job. Combine that with their music holding their focus, Aofil can almost blink and be at work. Again, if they land the job.

It’s been a rough couple of months with them not really making any progress with forgetting, or moving on. The pills helped a bit, but not as much as they wished. They’re still gonna need them even if they succeed with the interview, but not for the same reason.

This time they will actually help.

Slowly they got a grasp on themselves, and realized that the best way for them to cope is to occupy themselves so that they have more pressing matters in their head. They have to actually do something to be able to forget. Aofil has to make a habit out of not thinking about their past.

At first they thought that being a teacher again would just be the complete opposite of what they were trying to do, remind them every single day. But, the more they thought about it, the more they convinced themselves of another possibility. Instead of reminding, being a human teacher would replace monster memories with human memories.

Aofil’s still not fully convinced, but they believe it enough to give it a chance. It’s the only way they can think of.

Today’s the day they start to forget.

Something catches their eye though while they’re making their way down the stairs leading to the subway. Their heart race as they spot a red convertible idling before a stop sign. The driver is human though, and as Aofil mutters to themselves for scaring themselves, they get bumped by a passerby that gives them an annoyed glare. The light turns green and the car drives away. Aofil readjusts the straps on their backpack and continue down into the subway.

//

“Morning, Aofil,” greets one of their colleagues. “Coffee?” they ask with a cup outstretched.

Aofil takes it and gives it a sip. “Thanks.”

“So,” the colleague serves a cup to himself, “did you hear the news? First brick has been laid for the new monster city.”

“Nah,” Aofil shrugs as they sit down, “I’m not into monster stuff, really.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” the colleague laughs out.

“Neither did I,” Aofil corrects. “It’s just,” they blow their lips nonchalantly, “I don’t know, I’m just not interested. You have those prints I asked for yesterday, Tylior?”

“Sure do,” he throws them down in front of Aofil and takes a seat opposite them, “but honestly, Aof, come on. Not even a little bit with the monsters?”

Aofil furrows their brow as they drink some more coffee. They shake their head as they swallow.

Tylior rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you don’t care about literal legends reintegrating into society. Of course you wouldn’t be interested in the biggest event in human history. We’re living this, Aofil, at least you could feign some interest?”

Aofil lets the question hang for a while as they skim through the papers handed to them. “Hasn’t really been relevant the years I’ve been working here, Tylior.” They reach the end of the papers much sooner than they thought they would. “I mean, you’ve only brought the monsters up today despite them being on the news at least once a week for like five years.”

“You weren’t really the talkative type at the beginning, Aofil. Took some time for you to come out of your shell, you know? By that time I just didn’t bother asking.”

Aofil scoffs. “You and no one else, you mean?”

Tylior drums his fingers on the table. “How many pills did you take this morning, Aofil?”

“One,” comes an emotionless response.

“Take another, I can hear your voice slipping a bit.”

Aofil meets Tylior’s concerning eyes and blinks out of the haze they see building up in front of them. Dammit, they shouldn’t have risked it this morning. They put down the papers and take out their pill jar and swallow another one along with some coffee. The mix is not sitting well with them. “Thanks,” they still say.

“No problem, Aof.”

The room is silent for a minute as Aofil flips the papers back and forth. They read and reread the bullet points again and again, but there seems to be some stuff missing.

“You sure this is all, Tylior?”

He nods. “For today that is, there’s gonna be some new stuff later tonight, but I’ll have a printout for you tomorrow. Did you see that about the new data system?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure they’ll find a way to make it so that it won’t save us any work.”

Tylior chokes on his coffee as he hears Aofil’s quip. “Yeah,” he coughs one more time, “you’re probably right. Oh, speaking of something entirely else, Julie thought that maybe we could go out for a movie and drinks this weekend?”

Aofil nods. “Sounds like a plan! I’m pretty sure I can get Wednesday's test done by Friday so I should have the weekend free.”

Tylior puts his hand up, “Nice,” and Aofil meets it. “Sunday lunch as well?”

“Sure. Depends how hungover we’ll be, though.”

Tylior checks the clock and downs the last of his coffee. He scoots out of his chair and leans into Aofil as he passes them. “Exactly.”

Aofil waves him off as they return to the papers Tylior printed out. They furrow their brow at the bullet point stating that a new standard test is on its way, but that shouldn’t be a problem for them.

Worse things have happened.

“Morning, class,” Aofil greets as they enter the classroom. They get a halfhearted response, but it doesn’t really bother them. Were it not for the coffee they just had they would be feeling the same. It’s always the same with morning classes.

“So,” Aofil picks up a whiteboard pen and takes off the lid, “let’s continue with friction today. As we learned yesterday, when there’s a difference in velocity between two objects, be it a table and a book,” Aofil pushes one on their desk, “or my pen on this whiteboard. Even ice on ice experiences friction, just not as much.”

Aofil writes some formulas on the whiteboard.

“Who wants to guess how this works?” they ask the classroom while pointing to the first formula. There’s no hands to begin with, but one is raised eventually. “Yes?”

“Magic?”

The classroom starts to giggle. Aofil feels the grip on their pen harden. They breath in calmly, and exhale carefully to steady their voice. “No, not really.”

They spin the pen in their hand as they wait for the giggling to die down. It takes a while. Good, means Aofil managed to catch themselves in time. As the room becomes silent again, Aofil starts explaining how the formulas come together, “It all starts with the force equation,” and as they continue they see more and more heads nod in understanding. Aofil finishes by making groups and handing out some assignments for the class to complete.

Most of the class manages to complete it before the class ends, and Aofil gives out some light homework for today’s lesson. There’s a bit of a sigh from the class, but it’s for their own good.

And for Aofil’s amusement, of course.

As the class leaves the principal enters after a knock on the door frame. “You got a minute?”

Aofil nods. “Sure, what is it?”

“I saw that all the information didn’t make it out yesterday.”

“I thought it felt a bit small, yeah.”

The principal nods. “Right, we’ll get it sorted out until tomorrow morning though, but I’m just gonna tell you right now that you might need to stay a couple of hours extra on Wednesday. I got an offer of a sponsored lesson not so many days ago and I want you to hold it.”

The principal catches Aofil’s less than happy expression.

“You’ll get payed for it though, pretty well actually. At least double.”

Aofil’s frown turns back up. “So what’s it about?”

“If you could condense the sophomore year’s science curriculum to around two hours it would be fantastic. You don’t really have to delve deep into the specifics, just keep their attention for two hours.”

Aofil catches the time and starts erasing the last lesson’s notes from the whiteboard to make way for the upcoming one. “Who am I presenting for?”

“I’ll have the specifics tomorrow, that okay with you?”

“Fine by me, I’ve been waiting to get a beachfront property.”

The principal laughs. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did.”

Aofil fails to properly catch the last part as their new class starts pouring in through the door. They still nod and smile as the principal takes her leave. Was probably not important though.

Again, Aofil’s been through worse.


	64. Persuading a ball into a square hole

"And there it is, monsters and humans. The first day of the construction of the first monster city on the Surface has began on this cloudless day. The air around here is tense with expectations as the first brick is laid.”

A loud cheer bursts violently from the radio and Aofil gasps as it almost blows their ear off.

“Just listen to that crowd!”

Aofil rubs their face while being careful not to get any fur onto it while waiting for the cheer to die down. This again? Are they being serious right now? It’s the same reporter as well. It's been years!

“The city will of course be open for any human that wishes to move in,” the radio continues with an endless excitement. The crowd doesn’t seem to be dying down, and as Aofil realizes that it’s actually increasing in strength, they reach for the volume dial. “A sea of different shapes, both human and monster alike, stand before me eagerly waiting for the announcement,” the reporter almost has to scream into his microphone. “You, sir, what are your thoughts on this?”

“YOU SEE!”

The radio shuts off as Aofil throws their closed fist at it. Their knuckles connect with the dial, and the voice trails off as the radio bounces off the wall. It wobbles as it lands back on their nightstand, and falls face down, on the dial again.

“I, THE GREAT!”

Aofil slaps the backside, shutting the radio off a second time. They hover their hand over the radio for a second, just to be sure it did the trick. It stays silent, and Aofil tilts it back up. They sigh, guess they’re awake now. Or are they? They carefully lift the radio to check the time. Yup, they are, they have to be. They swing their legs over their bed and push off with their hands.

Aofil yawns and stretches their arms up. The crick of their back, and the subsequent worried exhale bounces around their living room as they near their kitchen. They give their back a careful stretch, but it seems to be fine. While they massage the area they put in two slices of bread in their toaster and put on some coffee, before heading to the bathroom.

They wonder if they should refill their prescription today or after the presentation tomorrow. Depends how many pills they have left, really. Aofil picks up today’s newspaper from their doormat and folds it over their hand so that the headline stays hidden from them. They don’t have to look at it, they already know what it is if the radio is anything to go by.

Aofil can still read the comic on the back of the newspaper as they remount their electric razor. Not much fur today, which is always a good sign. Their eyes and cheeks feels normal as well. Could it be that today’s the day it recedes forever? Who knows? Aofil would love to, but for now they’ll just take one pill. It has sated worse days, but not as much as they thought it would yesterday. Their neighbor must’ve been doing some family magic bonding the night before yesterday to warrant the amount of fur Aofil had on their arm yesterday morning. What if it carries over to today though? And if so, how much?

Aofil rolls out another pill into their palm, and weigh their options in their head. Risk it today, or risk it tomorrow? The decision is made for them as the pill falls out of Aofil’s startled hand from the loud whistle their coffeepot makes to mark that the coffee is done. The pill misses the hairy newspaper and falls into the drain with a mocking bounce. Aofil quickly shuts off the faucet, but their pill has probably already been rinsed away.

“Well, shit.”

Aofil counts the pills left in the jar. Three left. If their suspicions prove correct, then they’re gonna need all three tomorrow, more if they’re unlucky. While twirling the almost empty pill jar between their fingers, Aofil calls their doctor. It goes to voice mail explaining that the doctor is off today for an important conference. Aofil smacks their forehead and mutter a curse. They can’t even get a refill today since their doctor is away.

Aofil’s fingers get caught in their wrinkled skin as a thought strikes them. What if the doctor is at- No. Aofil shakes that idea out of their head. No, that’s just stupid. If Aofil can fool their doctor it’s not one good enough to be invited to that big of an event. They leave a message saying that they need a refill on their prescription, preferably tomorrow. They hang up with a sigh and when they return to their bathroom Aofil puts back their pill bottle into the cabinet before heading for the shower.

The last match in the box flickers into a flame as Aofil drags it along the tinder. They put the empty box on top of the crumbled newspaper and add matches to their shopping list. The headline screaming about the new monster city being built crumbles as the flames reaches it.

Aofil pours a cup of their coffee and fetches their toast. A couple of layers of condiments later they eat it while leaning against their countertop. They glimpse outside to check the weather. Ominously cloudy. A flash of lightning illuminates their apartment, and a couple of seconds later the strike of thunder shakes their cup. Yup, definitely ominous.

On their way down they pretend to not see their neighbor locking her door with her claw, nor do they hold the door for her. Why would they? Aofil’s in a hurry, and waiting over ten seconds while holding a door is just awkward for both parties. Besides, it would drag in a lot of rain.

Aofil cups their umbrella handle underneath their armpit while they fumble with their headphones. They nimbly dodge a monster mother with a small child flying hand in hand underneath a magical umbrella. A small trail of steam shows where they’ve been. The two monsters came from the subway, where Aofil’s headed.

The train arrives just as Aofil reaches the platform. They look at the large clock hanging from the ceiling. Nice, they caught an early train, means they can take another ten minutes going through that information Tylior promised to print out.

The doors open, and both human and monsters torrent out from the cars. Aofil can hear talk about the monster city, but it’s drowned out as they increase the volume of their music. Once inside they take a seat next to some humans. After a couple of stations the humans are replaced by some monsters. Two red, one kinda orange. Aofil shifts their eyes to the window. They see the reflections of the monsters for a bit as the subway car passes through a tunnel.

Once outside the reflections become less visible as the outside becomes brighter. Not too much brighter since it’s still pouring like a waterfall, but still brighter than the tunnel. A bright neon sign forces them to narrow their eyes from the jarring increase in light. A long purple leg welcomes any and all darlings into the biggest MTT branded store this side of town.

The store disappears just as quickly as it arrived from Aofil’s vision as the subway enters another tunnel. The orange monster in the returning reflection are up in arms about their arms, and fingers. The orange monster pats a small horn on one of its fingers carefully, and immediately retracts their hand from it while breathing through their teeth. Its friends all stare at the horn with awe. One of the monsters meets Aofil’s eyes in the reflection, and Aofil lets their eyes wander away.

The subway car slows down at Aofil’s stop less graciously as it normally does, and the orange monsters falls over his friends. Aofil leaves the group struggling to not prick themselves on the orange one’s horns, and unfold their umbrella once they reach surface level.

“Morning.”

Aofil takes the outstretched coffee cup. “Morning.”

A couple of stapled papers lands in front of them as they take a seat in the teacher's lounge. Aofil nods to Tylior, who nods back. “Nice weather we’re having,” he sarcastically states with a sigh and a small grunt as he sits down across from Aofil.

Aofil’s ear catches the tone of Tylior’s voice. They raise a playful eyebrow at him. “You make it sound like it’s my fault.”

Tylior leans out his leg from underneath the table. Everything up to his knee is soaking wet and dripping. “If it was then could you dry this please?”

“Oh.” Aofil offers their condolences. “Car?”

Tylior tries to dry as much water off as possible with a couple of napkins. “Nope.” His leg doesn’t get any drier, even though the napkins soak up as much as they possibly can. After ten napkins he gives up with an annoyed sigh. He throws the napkins into the trash where they land with a loud squish. “Monster, actually.”

“Monster?” Aofil repeats with their focus now bent away from the papers given to them. “Like, did it piss on you or something? If it did then you might need to call the news.”

Tylior’s unamused expression doesn’t stop Aofil, not in the slightest.

“You know,” Aofil continues, “since they don’t usually do it.”

“Yes!” Tylior interrupts with a grunt. “I know they don’t,” he starts collecting his things, “but since you have this waterproof theory,” he fakes a monotone laugh, “I’ll just take my leave.”

Aofil reaches for him as he passes, “Tylior,” but he turns his head with a smile. Aofil takes the stack of papers and smack him on his back. "Screw you for scaring me like that!" Tylior laughs it off and Aofil joins him as Tylior exits the teacher’s lounge. Aofil rolls out a handful of paper towels and dry the small puddles Tylior left behind with their foot. The towels also land with a squish in the garbage can.

Aofil returns to the papers. More bullet points about some small reforms regarding administrative systems, upcoming standardized test, and at last, the sponsored lecture tomorrow. Aofil’s mouth twists into a frown when their suspicions turns out to be correct.

Monster lecture, that’s what they’re gonna hold. Apparently it’s pretty important as well? Why didn’t the principal say that?

Aofil blows their lips. Fantastic.

Well, good thing they saved the pills, they’re definitely gonna need them all tomorrow. Aofil rubs their forehead, why didn’t they decline the offer? They knew from the beginning that it was gonna be monsters, why did they try and convince themselves otherwise? Dammit.

Maybe it’s not too late to back out? Aofil looks at the clock, they still have a bit of time left before their next class starts. They drink the last of their coffee and head up to the principal’s office.

After three knocks they’re invited in. “Hello, Aofil.”

Aofil closes the door behind them, “Hey,” and takes a seat. “Listen, I think I’m gonna need to pass on that lecture tomorrow. I just don’t think I might be the best one to hold it considering my allergy. I don’t have time to refill my prescription, and unless we do it with me in another building then I don’t think this will work out.”

The principal finishes off some work on their computer before meeting Aofil’s eyes. “Aofil, I know you’re not allergic to magic, I know the truth.”

Aofil’s entire body tenses. Their eyes dart around the principal’s face, but they find no sign of them lying. Aofil looks down, and puts their hand over their shaking lips. “How do you mean?” they ask with fear blossoming from every syllable.

“When you applied here, Aofil, I did some research, as is standard for all employment regarding children. Some medical records fell into my lap, and what caught my eye was the one from your psychiatrist. The pills you’re taking aren’t for monster allergy, but for anger issues. I came in contact with your doctor, and they told me you were in stable condition, and that your illness wouldn’t affect your work. I took her word for it, and from what I’ve seen, I made the right choice.”

Aofil is still tense, despite it being not as worse as they thought it would be.

“Which is why I didn’t bring it up with you. You probably thought that admitting to having anger management issues might’ve cost you your job, and in a sense you were correct to think that, Aofil. I looked the other way and went along with your explanation because you excel at what you do, and you have proven to be able to keep your anger under control. The few times you’ve cracked is when others would’ve as well. Despite you lying to my face, I still trust you, because I know why you did it. You are an excellent teacher, Aofil, and I’m glad to have you as my employee. I preface this because I want you to be open to what I’m about to inform you about. I trust you, so could you please trust me?”

The principal waits for Aofil to nod before taking out a folder from a binder. She searches some documents before pulling one out and flipping it to Aofil. “Here.”

Aofil stares at the symbol on the top right of the document.

The Delta Rune.

“Read it, Aofil,” the principal asks carefully as Aofil’s skin drains of color. “I’ll ask Julie to fill in for you now, because this is important. Please, read it.”

Aofil skims the headline. “Why this high school?”

“Because our students scored remarkably well on the last government test.” The principal digs out another document from the folder. “Or, to be specific, your students did. From what I could gather the scores were sent anonymously to the monsters along with the inspection for the teacher responsible for the class. I’m not saying you were solely responsible, everyone here put in a damn good score, but you tipped us over the edge, so to speak.”

“So the lecture tomorrow is a test?” Aofil asks almost accusingly.

“Yes, it is, and that’s why I want you on it, Aofil. I asked the others as well and they said that you would be the best, if only I could convince you. So, here we are.”

“And you couldn’t have told me this yesterday?”

“No, because I got the information this morning, just like you. I thought at first that it would be a human lecture sponsored by the monsters, not a monster lecture altogether. Everyone else told me it should be you, Aofil, and I’m inclined to agree with them.”

Underneath the Delta Rune is paragraph after paragraph of congratulatory language about how through this new chapter in human and monster cooperation the future of both species will shine brighter than ever. A cooperation that will see the connection between monsters and humans grow beyond what it was before the Barrier.

A school for both human and monsters, where the curriculum will embrace both magic, and science, and the overlaps they share. This school is to present what it’s made of in front of a monster committee, because it has proven for the humans that it is of the highest quality.

The future is shaped by the joint forces between human and monster, and this is an opportunity to spearhead the world into a new era of prosper.

The principal nods sheepishly to Aofil’s perplexed reaction after they finish reading the document. “Yeah, I know, the language is very, um,” the principal scratches her nose, “grandiose, but I can assure you that they’re very serious about this. I guess they wrote it like this to take the edge off a bit, but as you just read,” the principals shakes her hand, “it didn’t really work.”

“What is it you want, exactly?”

The principal straightens her back. “I don’t want you to be left behind, Aofil. I know that your history with the monsters is a bit tense, but the ones that killed your family isn’t the entire monster species. You don’t have to tell me who they were, but you do have to recognize that the monsters are here for good, and that they want good. I was very skeptical as well of them, especially after the trial.”

The principal leans down her chin on her knuckles. “I remember being furious about how they got off so lightly after having murdered six kids. Six kids! There was also this mumbo jumbo excuse of a curse that I was just baffled about, but then again, I wasn’t really comfortable with knowing that magic existed at that time. I guess you thought the same, Aofil?”

Aofil folds their arms over each other, and their eyes wander downward. “Yeah,” they agree without emoting.

“I don’t know how they did it. Their king must have a tongue made out of gold.” The principal scoffs. “I guess both his tongue and pockets to be completely honest with you. Anyway, I was very much fuming over how easily they just walked out seemingly without any form of punishment. I’m sure that things were settled behind the doors, but I didn’t see anything.”

“The riot?”

The principal hangs her head in shame. “I admit I was rooting for them a bit in the beginning, and whatever that king and queen said seemed to only fuel the fire. But then it got to a point, where I think that I realized that we used to live together before. We used to have peace in between us, and the threat that caused the war isn’t really that relevant now. I mean, we have guns now, and the monsters have showed that they’re actively working on protocol to make sure that one of those supposed god forms can never happen, and they’ve shown progress for that.”

“So just all your suspicions about them just,” Aofil flutters with their fingers, “vanished?”

“Not vanished, more like, understood and accepted. Yes, they are forcing some smiles because they know they’re much weaker than us. Yes, there is still tension between us. Like what happened with your-” The principal catches her tongue in the last second. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Aofil assures with a calming hand.

The principal nods. “Thanks. Like I said, there is still a lot of bumps that have to be smoothed out, but I want it to happen, and I believe it can happen. They’re just as human as us, despite their appearances. Faults and all, and for me, not giving them hope is to not give humanity hope. That’s why I’m begging you to do the lecture, Aofil. Because I think that it might help you reach that point as well. You have your reasons for your feelings towards them, Aofil. I understand that, but this world will leave you behind if you don’t at least give them an honest chance. And that’s why I’m asking you to do this lecture, for you sake.”

Aofil picks up the document with the Delta Rune on it again. It’s stamped on the right side of the paper, whereas the stamp of the government is on the left side of it. Agreeing on this. They skim through the text again before pinching their forehead and sighing. “I’m gonna need today to prepare then,” Aofil gives back the document to the principal. “Because I won’t have time tomorrow because of the test.”

The principal nods. “Go home and prepare if you feel like it, Aofil.”

Aofil stands up and heads for the door as the principal collects the papers back into their folder. “Oh, and one more thing,” they halt Aofil at the door. “Thank you.”

Aofil nods without meeting the principal’s eyes, and close the door behind them.

The watery trail of Tylior shows that he’s holding a class at the moment, so Aofil isn’t gonna bother him. They go into the teacher’s lounge and pick up their umbrella.

It’s just as rainy as it was when they arrived. A crack of thunder manages to pierce Aofil’s headphones, but Aofil pays it no mind.

Once home they shake off their umbrella and clothing before unlocking their door. They hang up their backpack and jacket and head into the bathroom. They catch a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. A faint red glow stares back at them. Aofil opens their cabinet, but halts their hand. They close it again, and head into their shower.

They try to breathe calmly, but they feel their fist clench harder and harder with each passing second. The hot water splashing on their back doesn’t even out the tingling from their cheeks. Aofil strikes the wall next to them with their hand, almost cracking both the tile and their bones. A wave of pain is sent out from their arm, but the pain doesn’t help.

They throw open the cabinet and pour out another pill. Before they have time to swallow it a mouthful of sick swells up inside them. Aofil almost breaks their toilet lid, but they manage just in time to open it. Determination stains the bowl of their toilet, and Aofil flushes with an angry mutter. They rinse their mouth and swallow the pill.

Only two left.

Dammit.


	65. A worse past for a better tomorrow

A flash of lightning and the ensuing strike of thunder again shakes Aofil's coffee cup. They steady it, and while they’re at it with having their hand on the cup, they sample their coffee again, despite them just putting it down before the lightning struck. They feel like they need it now, what with their pounding headache kicking and screaming inside their skull. It draws power both from their struggle to condense a year’s worth of material into just two hours, and them feeling the fur on their arm stand upright. If it’s from the weather outside or their recent episode, they don’t know, and it’s not what they need right now.

It’s not what they need ever, as well. But hey, at least they’re branded for doing something good. Doesn’t help their headache or their mood, but it’s nice to think that it would.

And now they’re gonna help the ones that caused them to feel this way. That caused them to forever be cautious and aware of their own thoughts, lest the patch on their arm decides to spruce their anger up a bit with a few good dosages of determination. There’s probably a patch of white in their soul as well, but for some reason they haven’t really been eager to look at it these past years. For some reason they aren’t really clicking their heels with joy at the notion and or thought of looking at the broken piece inside them that’s the cause of all the hurt in their world.

And then some.

A thing that they can’t remove as well which is always a nice bonus. Magic and science has to be intertwined, right? A symbiosis, if you will. Aofil doesn’t, but it’s not like they have a say in the matter. Shaving doesn’t work, and trying to dig it out doesn’t work. It’s a part of them.

So, they ask themselves, is this symbiosis a parasitic or a cooperative one?

“Not a goddamn clue!” Aofil shouts and letting their voice bounce around their kitchen while they sweep up their cup into their hand dangerously quick. They take another mouthful and twirl their pen between their fingers. With the way the fur acts from day to day it would be classified as parasitic, judging by the way it causes them to act, but apparently determination is something that a soul wants, so it’s actually Aofil’s fault for not appreciating something that would make anyone else feel powerful.

It’s their soul that’s at fault, right? Broken and scarred like a clay pot after more than a meter of free fall. It’s their soul’s fault that they can’t use this supposed gift. A gift on a curse would cancel it out though, right? Guess it depends on the right type of gift, and this wasn’t the right type of gift. Aofil looks at their arm in disgust. Is it another curse then?

Aofil pokes it with their pencil. There’s no sign of the scar that they had after their failed excavation. It’s completely healed. A small sign of something positive, or a sign that they have no control over it?

Aofil sighs.

No, this isn’t the time to go down that path again, they have work to do. Aofil flips their pencil in their hand again. “Physics first!” they exclaim as they place their pencil against the paper.

Two thunder roars pass, but the paper is still as blank as it started, bar the upper right edge which is stained slightly by a drop of coffee that fell out during the first thunder strike. This situation is all too familiar to Aofil, and they hate that.

They roll their fur stained arm around to try and get some blood going, but it doesn’t really help. The paper stays blank. Aofil tries to massage out an idea from their head, but all they manage to extract is more annoyance and irritation. And a reminder of their headache.

Their headache, which again, is caused by the ones that it prevents Aofil from helping. So the more they think about it, the less it makes sense. They should just give it all a pass.

Well, they tried to, but it failed. They went into the principal’s office with the intention to skip it all, and they emerged having gobbled everything up instead. And here they thought that the principal was gullible for believing their pill story, but here Aofil are, trying to rub away the hurt that the principal insisted that they mantle.

But the principal didn’t know about that.

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open. Or did she? Yes? No? OK, what if the principal knew? Did they try and set Aofil up? What if they didn’t know? Aofil grunts as their headache knocks on their skull again, they aren’t getting anywhere.

Why did they agree to this? It’s all just a wash, just like the weather outside. It’s pouring like the…

Aofil holds that thought, they won’t allow it another step. They’ve gone this long without thinking of the past, and they’d be damned if they surrender now. They’ve left that life behind, they had to. They saved everyone else’s memories, at the cost of their own. This new life was supposed to be Aofil’s drastic change! Yet still they’re constantly reminded. Why? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be shaving their arm every morning, and then burning it! They haven’t read the newspaper in ages, and the one in this city is written by actual journalists!

Aofil drags their hands over their face slowly. They should just pull off their finger and let the monsters scatter in fear, get it all done with.

Wait a second.

Aofil’s hand grips the pen again. They’ll start with some simpler stuff, nothing that would just be uncomfortable, to lead up to the finger popping off. A card trick? No, that wouldn’t sail. Just stick with magic including hands.

Aofil’s list grows, and so does their smile. They feel their cheeks tugging and their lips separate from each other. Yes, and then Aofil starts shaking their hands as if they were hurting.

“Let me see what’s wrong with them,” they say to themselves. Oh yes, it sounds just as good as in their head. Just a bit of stretching first, and then.

“Pop!”

Aofil chuckles to themselves as they picture the monsters running around in fear. Them looking horrified at their finger, like everything’s gone horribly wrong. The monster will think thrice before going back to their school afterwards.

Aofil holds up the paper and reads it back to themselves. Yeah, this looks good, really good. The monster will never think about setting their foot or whatever they have in their school again. Aofil’s eyes continue reading back their master plan.

But their smile fades.

No monsters means that the school will fall behind. Their colleagues, friends, it’s not just Aofil that’s at stake here. If they did this, then it would lead to them being hurt as well. No, Aofil can’t do this, they shouldn’t do this. It would lead to more of those monster deniers congregating, and worse, at their workplace. Worse? Would it really be worse?

It would mean no more risk of their curse blossoming if there was no monster for them to think about. It would mean that they could stop thinking about them, and stop being reminded all the goddamn time. They would finally have some peace of mind. They could move on, finally. Their downstairs neighbor’s contract runs out soon. It’s only a matter of time before their building becomes purely human again.

And then? Perhaps they could figure out a way to keep the monsters at their own city? They built it for that reason, right? They just need some persuasion. Aofil could probably lean on them if they wanted to. Pay them a visit, have some tea, and then perhaps change their minds while they’re at it. They would trust Aofil. After all they did, why wouldn’t they? How couldn’t they? They owe Aofil, they owe Aofil so much. They’re gullible, easily manipulated, and they hold a lot of power. So why not just give them a nudge in the right direction? Yes, humans and monsters have lived together for so long, but look at what we’ve accomplished while we were separated. Just a few words would be enough. Aofil has the potential to topple an entire kingdom. It would be so easy.

They just need to remind the monsters why the humans won.

The sky opens up wider and a wave of hard rain hits the window behind Aofil. They jump out of their chair, and feels that their breath has become agitated. Their heart is pounding, and there’s a bitter taste in their mouth. Aofil’s grunts as they touch their cheek with a finger.

It’s hot.

Dammit, what the hell are they doing? How old are they? Twelve? They can’t do this, it’s childish. They would sabotage the future of Tylior, Julie, heck, everyone, if they were to do this. Kneecap everything good that has happened, just because they can’t focus right now? Why did they even think it was a good idea?

Well, Aofil knows the answer, but it doesn’t really cheer them up. They made the right choice in taking another pill, otherwise they would’ve probably gone to bed dedicated to go through with this. They should probably take another one, but that would leave only one left for tomorrow, and they’re pretty sure they would need two even without the presentation. They’re already at least one pill short for tomorrow, they can’t compromise any further. Aofil crumples the scribbled paper in their hand.

They toss it inside their fireplace and grab the sealed package of matches. They unwrap the plastic and take out a match. They place it against the tinder.

But they hesitate.

“No!” they force out while at the same time flicking the match. The sparks run along the top of the match for a second before igniting and summoning a bright flame. The color is different. It looks familiar though, like it was made with magic.

Aofil throws the match onto the crumbled paper, which burns a more normal color, and flips the match case over.

“To commemorate the building of Monster City, a component has been added to make the fire a bit more magical,” the back of the box states proudly. Aofil bounces it in their hand for a while before throwing it in the fire as well.

They return to the table and sit down with a deep sigh. The pill is starting to calm them down now, good. Shouldn’t be that difficult now.

“Aofil?” Tylior tries while tapping his pen on the cup he brought Aofil loudly, and without rhythm.

Aofil lifts their head up from their pillow made of arms and tries to blink away the tired. It doesn’t work. They sink back down again with a sound somewhere between a mutter and a snore.

Tylior smacks his pen on Aofil’s head. “No,” Aofil responds after a couple of seconds. Tylior gives Aofil another smack, this time on their exposed hand. Aofil instinctively drags it away, but it falls back down once the tiredness flows back into it.

“How did you even manage to get off at the right subway station, Aofil? I’ve seen more awake people under the sand at an archaeology dig site.”

Aofil fumbles for the cup of coffee with a couple of unglamarous and uncoordinated taps on the table. Tylior scoots the cup closer with his pen. “Thanks,” Aofil says with their head still in their one armed pillow. They brings the coffee closer and drink it.

With a painful cough Aofil lunges out of their chair and bolt for the closest sink. They spit the coffee out and rinse their mouth as fast as they can. “What the hell is this coffee?”

Tylior shoots Aofil a knowing wink. “It got you up, didn’t it?”

Aofil leers at Tylior from behind the stream of water flowing from the faucet. Their mouth is full of water so they can’t answer, but their piercing gaze tells Tylior everything he needs to know.

He bows his head, “You’re welcome,” and tilts his hand towards Aofil.

With their stomach full of water and their mouth almost completely rinsed of water Aofil returns to the table and their chair opposite of Tylior. “Not gonna thank you.”

“Long night with the presentation?” Tylior pries while drinking some coffee of his own. He enjoys it a bit too loudly for Aofil’s taste. “You’re usually a bit more spiffy than this in the mornings, and the presentation is all I can think of right now. Well, that and how good this coffee is.” Tylior takes another sip and closes his eyes in enjoyment. “Ah, fantastic.”

Aofil holds out their empty cup and Tylior pours some of his into it. “Yeah, long night. Was a bit harder than I expected, but I think I got it under control.”

The jar of just a single pill in their pocket would like to say otherwise, but it’s the best Aofil can do at the moment. Their doctor didn’t come back today, so it’s gonna be a couple of interesting hours later at the presentation.

Interesting is the last thing Aofil wants it to be.

They pat the folder next to them on the table. “Got everything here.”

“It looks a bit thin,” Tylior comments while reaching for it. Aofil snatches it away violently.

“Then please don’t touch it, otherwise you’ll break it,” Aofil explains while waving it back and forth.

Tylior nods. “OK then."

They sit both in silence for a couple of minutes before Tylior notices the clock. He motions for it with a nod. “Test soon.”

Aofil returns the nod. “Yeah, brilliant,” they mutter before downing the rest of their coffee.

“You have your pills with you, Aof?” Tylior taps his throat. “Your voice.”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods again, this time slower, “I got it with me. I’ll take another one before the test.”

Tylior leans forwards. “Take it now.”

“Tylior,” Aofil replies, “I’ll take it, don’t worry.”

Their voice is getting rougher by the word, they can hear it themselves. Nothing they can do about it though, they need it later more than they need it now. Tylior doesn’t seem convinced though. He opens his mouth to speak, and despite Aofil’s hand trying to stop him, he continues. “The presentation is just a presentation, Aofil. This test is important, even for you. I don’t want you to have lesser pay next year because your students failed.”

“Why would it matter now that I’m angry?” Aofil responds with a throw of their hand. “They’ve already studied for it, and their grades aren’t gonna change if I look a bit tired.”

“There’s an inspector this year,” Tylior reveals. “Nothing official, but I saw someone that blended in here as well as, well, a government official at a high school.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aofil growls.

“I don’t believe you, Aof, and you’ve said that my judgment is valued higher than yours when you are like this. Every time with this.”

With an annoyed grunt Aofil takes out their pill jar and pop it open. They throw the pill into their open hand and show it to Tylior. “Only one left, and I need that one for the presentation! It’s not really a choice!”

Tylior’s brow furrows. “Why?”

Aofil curls their fingers around the pill. “Because...” They throw it back into the jar and close the lid.

Tylior’s waits patiently for a continuation that never comes. He leans over the table and clamps his hands together slowly. “I thought you cared more about humans than you did monsters, Aofil.”

Aofil’s just a smidge away from calling Tylior out on that, but they know it’s what he wants. Tylior knows how to play Aofil, but he’d never do it out of malice, just to show Aofil how far they are, and that they need to back down.

But not now.

He can’t know, no one can. The principal knowing is already far too many along with their doctor, who probably saw through Aofil’s lie from the very start.

“Aofil?” Tylior tries again with a snap of his fingers in front of Aofil’s face. “You still with me? Monsters in your head?”

Aofil ignores the joke. “That’s why I’m saving it for them, and not my students. I know my students, but I have no clue who the monsters are gonna be. I’ll be fine, Tylior. Just trust me on this, please. I’m already on the brink of losing it. I was up all night and morning with this. I didn’t get any sleep whatsoever. I’ll manage the presentation, but I need my medication for me to not break the pointer over my knee.”

Tylior looks at Aofil who meets his eyes with theirs. They know he’s searching for the smallest crack in Aofil’s already thin facade. He cares, he’s a good friend.

But not now!

This one time he has to trust Aofil, or not care. Either way, Aofil needs to hold their mask.

Tylior catches the clock again. “If you say so, Aofil,” he smiles out with a nod. He leaves with a pat on Aofil’s shoulder. “Good luck, with both things.”

“Thanks, I really mean it.”

Aofil sits alone with their thoughts for another while. The jar in their pocket presses uncomfortably against their leg so they pull it out again. They place it on the table, and they’re surprised that it doesn’t bend it. It weighed much more inside their pocket.

Aofil flicks the top and it falls over. Nope, table is still intact. They give the container a spin and watch it slow down as, in their own words, there’s a difference in velocity between the two objects. Eventually the jar slows down to a halt, and the pill inside just a couple of seconds afterwards.

The lid points to the empty chair opposite of Aofil, and the pill does too.

Aofil pockets the pill jar again and collects their things. As they leave the teacher’s lounge they look back at the table.

They shake their head. No, it couldn’t have been magic. The monsters aren’t here yet, it’s too early.

Their gaze floats up to the chair. It hangs for a while as their mind races.

Again they shake their head. No, that would be far worse.

Please, don’t let it be his.


	66. Presentation is in session

How?

Aofil clenches their fist to try and contain the warm feeling their arm is sending out. It helps a bit, but only the tiniest of bits. Their nails dig into their palm, but they don’t feel their skin burst.

Not yet, anyway.

They reorient their smile and return their eyes to overseeing their class again. Two dozen heads and necks are bent down, silently scribbling away at their test. It’s been like a looming cloud over their heads for a while now, but Aofil’s sure they’ll be fine. Aofil’s done their best to prepare their class for it, shouldn’t be a problem. They let a bit of pride wash over them. If anything just to try and dampen their determination building up. It seems to be working as the fur underneath their button shirt relaxes, as does Aofil’s fist. They run their thumb over their palm. Yup, there’s definitely some indents from their nails, but no blood.

They still take a swig of water to quell their stomach, just in case.

The government official in the back writes a couple of lines in his notebook before returning to his previous position with his arms crossed and leaning back in his chair. He’s surveying the class as much as Aofil is, if not more. Aofil couldn’t tell if he’s surveying them as well, but apparently he is. They don’t recognize him, which is a good sign. Pretty sure he doesn’t recognize Aofil either. Hopefully he’s only here for the test. If he’s here for the monster presentation that could pose a problem.

What kind of problem? Aofil doesn’t know yet, but there sure that it would be one. All their interactions with any and all government people thus far has been nothing but problems. Aofil’s sure that they had their reason for what they did, and again, they know what those reasons were, but, they still remember how it felt when one woke them up at the hospital after their fight with…

Aofil sighs, another close call. Another stinging wave shoots out from their arm, and this time they barely manage to keep it quiet. Their fingernails finds their previous dents in their skin, and again it feels like it’s about to burst. It takes a minute or so for it to dial itself back, and Aofil sighs with relief.

A suspicious movement catches the corner of Aofil’s eye, but it was only a student readjusting themselves in their seat. Aofil hangs their look on them for a couple of seconds though, to try and spot something else she might’ve been doing. No cheating this time though, it seems. They meet the official’s eyes, and he nods before striking a line in his notebook.

How serious is this test, really? Yes, it is a standardized one, but it appears to be the most standardized one in ages. Strange, very strange. Aofil wonders if they should confront the official about it, but their thoughts are interrupted as a small wave of sick is sent up from their stomach. They mange to contain it though, but they feel their face contort from it. A couple of students react, but Aofil motions for them to get back to their test. The official writes something down in his notebook as Aofil takes another mouthful of water.

They roll their eyes, great.

“Time’s up, pen’s down. Good work everyone!” Aofil congratulates. “Just hand these in and then gossip about the answers like you usually do outside. Hindsight is twenty twenty, but your eyes are in front of you, not behind you, unfortunately.”

The official makes another note, and Aofil grumbles. Don't he dare steal that one.

The papers are handed in with various amount of trembling. For some the papers weigh like a brick, for others a feather. Standard procedure, for a standardized test.

“You got a minute?” the official asks while leaning a bit too close for Aofil’s liking. His eyes dart for a second to Aofil’s desk, but he quickly returns them to Aofil. “Just need you to sign here.”

Aofil takes the document and reads through it.

“Just a formality.”

“As they always are,” Aofil adds in their head. The document just states that the signer acknowledges that the notes from the official will be used along with the test results for future revisions of said test and other school related improvements. Aofil signs their name and hands the paper back to the official who thanks Aofil while pushing together the tests. He opens his briefcase and fastens the pile of papers together with an unusually large paper clip along with the document Aofil just signed. He bids Aofil farewell and heads out with a couple of long steps.

Aofil takes their cup of water to refill it, but their hand hits something else.

An apple? Yeah, sure looks like it. But where did it come from?

Aofil shrugs, one of their students must’ve forgotten it. They leave their classroom door slightly ajar for the student to pick it up later and head down to the teacher’s lounge. They sit down in their chair and flip open their folder with the presentation material. Aofil’s deep down with reading it when Tylior sinks down on the opposite side of the table.

“Did you have the official at your place?” he asks with his fingers together on his stomach.

Aofil looks up from their notes about biology. “What do you mean ‘the’? Was the only one? Didn’t you have someone there?”

Tylior shakes his head. “Nope.”

Dammit! The official did know! Was this another one of their tests before the presentation? To see how honest Aofil was? Aofil berates themselves for not confronting the official. They should've trusted their gut feeling.

“I mean, I had a suit and tie sitting at the end of the classroom, but she wasn’t really that official. She even waved away one of my student’s phone ringing. Yours looked quite stoic and emotionless, like a statue of someone who didn’t have any sleep before modeling,” Tylior explains while pouring himself some water and fetching a fruit. “You want anything?”

Gut feeling, eh? So much for that.

Aofil motions for whatever. “Doesn’t matter.”

A pear comes flying their way and they catch it with two hands. Tylior grabs himself a banana and peels it. Aofil furrows their brow. “I had you for a pear guy. What’s with the banana?”

“Hm?” Tylior asks with his mouth full. He swallows and drinks some water before answering. “How hard do you think banana pie is to make?”

“Um,” Aofil is slightly taken back by the question, “I don’t know? Shouldn’t be that difficult if you follow a recipe.”

Tylior spins the banana in his hand before taking another bite. “I see.”

Aofil bring the pear slowly to their nose. They sniff it, but it seems fine. They taste it, but it’s still fine. Tylior is too busy contemplating about the banana peel hanging from his hand to notice what Aofil’s doing.

“I’m off to my next class,” Aofil notifies to Tylior as they spot the hour.

Tylior nods without turning his head. Aofil’s pretty sure he didn’t hear. Whatever, maybe he’s hungry?

“Half an hour left,” the principal advises to Aofil. Aofil closes the final blind to shut out the setting sun. They motion for the principal to switch on the light before finally closing the blind completely. Outside the classroom comes some soft talking with various sounding voices. The principal is visibly both excited and nervous. Her hand on the door frame shakes a bit. Aofil’s is as well, but not for the same reason. The pill jar is firm within their grasp. They were just about to take it before the principal barged in, but now the principal’s head is smiling and waiting eagerly for an answer. She enters with a cup that she places next to Aofil’s stack of papers.

Aofil clears their throat to loosen up some determination that they then swallow. It taste very bitter. “Yeah, sure.” They can hear it not sounding nearly as normal as they wanted it to be, and the principal catches the tone. She drum her fingers on the door before nodding with another smile.

“Just,” she search for the right words in her head, “think of it as a carnival of sorts.”

Aofil shakes their head slowly.

“Or,” the principal clears her throat, “something.”

“You’re very excited for this.”

It takes a couple of awkward seconds for the principal to realize that she's standing at Aofil’s desk for no reason. With a sheepish smile and nod she closes the door behind them. Aofil swallows the last pill quickly before anyone else has time to enter again. They wash it down with some water from their cup, and swirls their chair around so that they face their blackboard.

It’s empty, for now. Hopefully Aofil can spend the majority of the presentation with their face against it, and not the crowd. Minimize the contact with the monsters, that’s priority number one. The less magic they expose themselves to, the lesser the chance that they’ll have an episode. They do have a backup plan if things go badly, but that would only seem good to them when they’re already too far gone.

They glance at the clock next to the door.

Twenty minutes left. Aofil returns their nose to their folder. They tap it with their pen as they read it, but they can’t shake away their throat feeling somewhat dry after only a couple of minutes of reading. Must be their medication. Aofil reaches for their cup and bring it up to their mouth. After a long sip they halt the cup on their lips as they notice the taste.

That there actually is a taste.

They remove the cup from their mouth and stare at the liquid inside horrified. No, is it really- But how didn’t they smell it? They do now though. Was it the bitterness from the determination? Doesn’t matter now, they’ve already drunk some.

Shit!

Aofil dries off the tango on their lips quickly, and bolt for the door. They throw it open a bit too quickly, and it silences the commotion outside. Their eyes ignore the various forms of monsters around them, but they can’t ignore the plate in front of them.

Aofil puts up their hand to politely decline. “No, thank you,” they forcibly smile. Their stomach rumbles, and the plate in front of them is offered a second time with a cheeky bounce. This time Aofil manages to ignore it. They lock eyes with the principal and beckons them back into the classroom. Harshly.

“What,” Aofil quells a wave of sick, “what did you give me?”

The principal looks a bit worried over Aofil’s tone of voice and heavy breathing. “Some tea the monsters offered, I thought it would calm your nerves. It did it for me.”

Aofil sits down in their chair and clamps their hands together to regain focus. They lean on them to not have it look too suspicious.

“I’m gonna need another fifteen minutes to prepare,” they say very carefully. “Can you stall?”

The principal approaches Aofil carefully. “Are you alright?”

Aofil stops them before they manage to put an arm around Aofil’s shoulder. “Fifteen minutes, yes or no?”

The principal nods. “Yes. Don’t worry. You sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Magical allergy.”

“Ah,” the principal nods again, genuine this time, and heads out the door. “The presentation is gonna need a bit more time to prepare, so let’s start with the tour now. Please, follow me,” Aofil hears through the door.

Once they’re sure that the others won’t hear they head for the classroom sink and drink until they almost drown. Diluting the Golden Flower tea is the next best thing they can do. Getting it out of their system is the best thing, but forcibly vomiting is gonna leave them worse, and their throat burned.

The lesser of two evils, again. Aofil spits out some determination and flushes it away.

Just like always.

Aofil pokes at their cheeks, they’re starting to get hotter. They sigh, and pray that the pill they took was wrongly produced with at least twice the strength.

Stupid to think that? Yes, but it’s the same level of stupid that got them into this to begin with, so not all hope is lost.

Not yet.

As the door opens and a torrent of differently colored and shaped monsters enter the classroom hope seems to be fading rather quickly. Aofil recognizes a couple of them, hopefully not the other way around will happen as well.

After some time, as the more oddly shaped monsters finally manage to squeeze into the chairs, Aofil takes one last moment to prepare themselves. Their cheeks are tingling with heat. As long as their eyes stay somewhat normal it won’t bring up any suspicion. Right now it’s only their behavior that might cause suspicion.

Only…

Aofil waits for the commotion to reach silence before they stand up slowly. They drink some water to clear their throat, and as the monsters lean in closer, Aofil opens their mouth. “Welcome!” They immediately close it as they hear the snarl in their voice. They drink some more water and try again. “Welcome.”

It’s not much better, but it’ll have to do.

“You see, us humans have a bit of a different view on the world,” Aofil starts, “we didn’t use magic to deduce the world around us. We didn’t use our souls to interact with the forces that govern our planet, our universe, and that govern us. But, our world view is similar, despite our differences.”

Aofil turns around and draws a monster and a human on the blackboard. “Whereas you are made out of magic,” Aofil adds some squiggly line and sparks inside the monster, “you observe the world through magic,” and does the same outside the monster. “Whereas us humans are made out of science,” Aofil makes a small model of an atom inside the human, “we observe the world through science,” and does the same outside the human.

Their arm halts as they feel the room fill with excitement, magical excitement. They flex their cheeks to try and contain the increasing stinging coming from them. They have to contain themselves for longer than comfortable, and they can hear some whispers before they continue.

“So,” Aofil begins again, still with their face towards the blackboard, “what we’re gonna do this evening is to explore the world of science. From the smallest atom to the infinity of the universe. We’re,” Aofil takes another mouthful of water to quell the growing rumbling inside them. It lessens it, but not by much, “we’re gonna start by learning about the fundamentals. The forces that act upon us, and that we can act upon.”

Aofil turns around to meet the monsters. “Who can tell me the fundamental forces of the universe?”

Their smile is not perfect, they can feel it themselves. It’s a bit crooked, but Aofil does their best to lean into it to make it at least somewhat natural. Their fur stained arm is pulsating slowly, sending out small waves of determination throughout Aofil.

A three fingered hand is raised. “Yes!” Aofil points, also a bit too forced.

The monster hesitates a second before answering. “Gravity?”

“Gravity is one of the forces, that is correct,” Aofil nods. “Anyone else?”

Two hands are raised. Aofil points to the one that was raised first. Both hands are lowered, as they’re attached to the same dark green monster. “Soul strength?”

“That would be magic, I’m afraid,” Aofil searches their head for something constructive to say. It’s hard to navigate through the haze that’s building up, but they somehow find something. “Although, there are the forces that hold together the atoms that we’re all made out of. The souls of matter, if you will.”

The monster nods in agreement and sits down again satisfied.

“Why does he look so smug about it though?” Aofil thinks. He was completely wrong. Not only that, but this entire lecture is about science, not magic. Didn’t anyone tell the monsters beforehand? One would think so, right? That they wouldn’t give magical answers to scientifical questions? Some effort would be appreciated. Aofil’s standing here feeling their determination build up more and more every second, the least the monsters could do is try?

A mitten covered hand is raised. Aofil acknowledges it with a nod only.

“Is lightning a fundamental force? I remember it being a lot inside the CORE.”

“No,” Aofil mutters underneath their breath, “that isn’t magic!”

Why can’t they understand?! This isn’t about them. It has nothing to do with magic. It’s about how the humans see the world, and how they will in a bit. Not if they continue to make everything about magic though! Aofil feels a smile grow on their lips.

Oh yeah, they will.

The monsters know the answers, they’re just scared to say them. They know that they can’t win, yet they desperately struggle. The monsters want to come back to the Surface? Then they’ll better hurry up and accept what’s around them!

No magic.

No souls.

Souls?

Aofil looks at their reflection in the water inside their cup.

Red.

They look up to the monsters in front of them. They want to tell them all to go back to the Underground. It’s what’s screaming inside their head. Aofil looks over to the principal, who’s hand is curled up on their lips, scared. Aofil can’t go on much longer. The haze have already clouded their mind, it’s only a matter of time before they’re lost in it.

They need to pull the plug. Or to be more precise, their finger.

They position their hands next to each other, and with a twist and a jerk, they summon their illusion. They hold their pulled of thumb for all to see, and wait for the panic to ensue. Their last way out.

“I’ve seen that one before. It’s a good one!” applauds a monster. It croaks as it applauds. “Is this a fundamental force? Human magic?”

No! Why isn’t it working? It was Aofil’s last resort! Didn’t the monsters believe in magic just a second ago? Was Aofil wrong?

A wave surges over them, almost drowning them and sweeping them out into the dark sea that’s their curse. They have to figure out something quickly.

Aofil looks at their arm. Their pulsating arm, with the fur standing stiff against their shirt. They try and calm it with their other arm, but the fur fights back. It pushes against them.

Aofil raises their head. It’s a moronic idea, but they have no other.

“One of most important forces,” they begin as they walk to the side of the blackboard. The wall next to it is pure brickwork, “is force.” Aofil prepares themselves as best as they can. “One important rule to keep in mind is,” they raise they arm and lean back, “when you punch something,” they breath out one last time, “it punches back with equal force.”

The crack of their arm echoes throughout the room. The sick inside Aofil fades as it’s dragged away to their injured arm to heal. It hurts like something they’ve never felt before, but at least they can control it. They wipe away a pair of tears with their other hand, and then use it to suppress the shaking of their other arm.

They turn around to their crowd. “Any questions?”

The stunned silence produces only furrowed brows and faces that are both impressed and horrified at the same time. The principal’s eyes scream bloody murder, but Aofil tries to calm them with a controlled nod.

“So,” Aofil swallows some pain, “how about we continue to chemistry?”


	67. Souls in blue

"So."

The principal taps the envelope on her knuckles as she searches for the right thing to say. Her face is conflicted in more ways than one. As tapping doesn't seem to work she resorts to flipping it over on its side and drumming it with her fingers.

Aofil takes the opportunity to try and wedge their fingers under the plastic casing holding their broken arm stiff and in place. They don’t quite reach the spot where their arm cracked, but they tug at their shirt nonetheless to try and suppress the itching.

It helps just a little bit.

It’s still pulsating uncomfortably warm. Both from waves of pain, and from waves of magic trying to heal the bone. It’s broken, no doubt about it, but it served its purpose. It dampened the determination flowing around them during the presentation.

They had to hold the rest of the presentation through gritted teeth, but they got through it. However well they did is in the envelope flipping through the principal’s thinking fingers with various amount of success. It doesn’t bother the principal though, since her mind is occupied elsewhere. She open her mouth, but closes it immediately afterwards.

Aofil glances at the clock on the principal’s desk. It’s an hour or two past dinner, and Aofil feels it. They felt it during the presentation. For as much irritation as it added, it didn’t really make a difference. Another layer to add to the already staggering amount of layers isn’t gonna make that huge of a difference, but now that it’s only one of few layers its screams are much more easier to hear.

No fruit or anything else edible is in the principal’s room. There’s a plate with a half eaten slice of pie on the desk, but it’s not edible. Maybe for the principal, but not for Aofil. Nor is the untouched plate of pie they were handed. The tea summoned enough of a relapse for the day, or week, or month. However long it’s been since the last one. This one was much more hurtful though. Both figuratively. Aofil tries to flex their fingers carefully, but to no avail. And literally.

The principal makes a final flair with her fingers and the envelope lands in between Aofil and her. “Considering everything that happened,” the principal stops, as if they’re having a hard time believing their own words that they’re about to say, “I think it went well, Aofil. Despite the,” she pauses again to inhale through her clenched teeth, “unorthodox,” she hangs on the word for a second, “methods you used, you still came through when you managed to relocate and follow your thread of thought.”

The principals eyes move to Aofil’s injured arm. “I even heard some of the monsters next to me whisper something about how they’ve never seen someone teach so visually. So you got that going for you.”

The principal smacks her lips. “They were a bit skeptical with the frozen pie that almost froze the lizard’s tongue off, and I’m not gonna lie and say that you’re not entirely innocent in that regard. You’re not entirely at fault though since they volunteered, and you couldn’t have known that they didn’t have any arms. In either case,” the principal produces a letter knife, “let’s see what they said.”

The Delta Rune holding the envelope together is undisturbed as the principal slices the top in two. She drags out the paper inside and read it quickly. There’s a smile on her lips, and Aofil feels a bit of calm wash over them.

They really needed that.

The principal’s smile fades. “Here,” she folds the paper and gives it to Aofil, “it’s better that you read it instead of hearing it.”

Aofil grabs it with their one functioning hand and open it back up.

“Congratulations!” the paper starts.

Always a good start.

“The monster council has deemed your performance as extraordinary barring some questionable decisions during the presentation. The sheer novelty and visual spectacle is something the council have never seen before, and that enough is grounds for continuation to the next step.”

Aofil raises an eyebrow. Next step?

“Unfortunately, the attitude during the presentation gave the council a cause for a second opinion. The chance is still open, but an extra laurel has to be earned to ensure that the supposed reason for the attitude was an isolated event, and can be controlled should the teacher advance further through the program.”

Aofil’s eyebrow is lowered, and turns furrowed along with the other one. Program?

“If the human test comes back with exceptional results, then an interview will be planned. This decision is final and not negotiable.”

Signed, the monster council of human scouting for teaching for the monsters, by the monsters.

Sure is a royal council with that kind of name.

“I don’t know what to say, Aofil. I think congratulations are in order, but I’d be lying if I said that a part of me wants you to stay. With that said, if you plan to pursue this career option then I won’t stand in your way. None of us will, but we’ll miss you.”

Aofil throws down the paper. This is the complete opposite of what they wanted to happen! Again they’re dragged closer when all they want is just to be left alone. This was supposed to be for the school, not them!

“Dammit,” Aofil mutters. They bury their forehead into their only functioning hand now that the other one is disabled because of the monsters. Again!

“God fucking dammit!” Aofil curses as they slam their hand into the principal’s desk.

“Aofil!” the principal interrupts Aofil’s growing anger with a snap of their fingers. “This is your chance to prove to yourself that you’re willing to change! The one chance you have to understand that the monsters aren’t monsters. That they’re flawed, yes, but that they mean good.”

“It’s not that,” Aofil sighs.

“Of course it’s that,” the principal scoffs at the notion that it isn’t. “It’s time to put the past where it belong, Aofil. You have this opportunity to take a step towards bettering yourself. I’ve been lenient with your hatred towards monsters, but I can’t be anymore. This is as far as I’m willing to give you. It’s your turn now to take the step. Not for me, not for the school, but for you. I don’t want to give you an ultimatum, but I’m going to push for this school to be one of the first to incorporate monsters and their proposed curriculum. This will happen with or without you, Aofil. I can’t hold everyone back just because one of my teachers have history. If push comes to shove,” the principal looks Aofil deep into their eyes, without blinking. The gaze is hard like diamond. The principal doesn’t have to say anything, Aofil gets it, but she opens her mouth anyway, “they’ll not be one of my teachers anymore.”

A minute of quiet hangs over the two like a thick blanket, bending both necks down in contemplation. The principal is the first to lift up her head. “I don’t like being the bad guy here, Aofil, but I’m the principal of the school, not over you.”

Aofil nods without lifting their head. “I get it.”

“Good,” the principal nods as well, “and good work on the presentation, Aofil. It was a good one, take pride in that you managed to win them over despite your allergy towards them.”

Aofil doesn’t join in with the principal’s chuckle.

“Go home and get yourself some dinner, Aofil. You’ve earned it.”

Aofil nods and stands up with intent for the door. They stop at it and turn their head around. “See you tomorrow.”

The principal returns a smile. “Until then, Aofil.”

“Excuse me!”

Aofil looks around for the voice that called them.

“Over here.”

A monster beckons for them. A light blue one, with scales that flow almost like hair. It stands a head or two taller than Aofil. Four arms move awkwardly as it tries to figure out the right words to say. It scratches its beak, and blinks with its four eyes. It’s a she, Aofil notices that very easily. It’s hard not to, judging by how taut her suit shirt is.

“This might be a bit silly, human, but are you a friend of Tylior?” she asks.

Aofil nods. “Yeah, I am.”

A pair of almost transparent wings extend from behind the monster with a soft snap. Aofil takes a step back in reflex.

“No, no, sorry.” The monster retracts her wings. “I didn’t mean to scare you, human,” the monster flusters as she gestures wildly with her hands. “Forgive me.”

Her voice sounds strangely desperate, but she recuperates as Aofil steps back where they were. She extends her hand with an innocent smile. “I’m Sevoltne, a pleasure to meet you.”

Aofil hesitates for a second before grabbing the hand. Her claws are gentle against their wrist, but they’re still sharp enough to be acknowledged. “Aofil.”

“Your presentation was really good, Aofil. Congratulations on passing. I was the one that proposed that your,” Sevoltne clears her throat, “attitude, was just a one time event.”

“Oh,” Aofil doesn’t really know how to react to that statement. “Thanks.” They try hard to make it not sound like a question.

Sevoltne’s four eyes close with a smile. “No need to thank me, I would’ve done it even if I didn’t already know about your illness.”

Aofil’s smile is sucked in. “My illness?”

“Oh, Tylior told me yesterday.”

Aofil’s brow furrows so hard that they have difficulty seeing.

Sevoltne puts a hand up to her beak to silence a small chuckle from her. “I should probably start from the beginning.” She motions for a nearby bench with her other three hands. Aofil sits down, despite them just barely seeing it through their brows.

“Yesterday morning I was hurrying along to work, and accidentally stomped in a deep water puddle. I say stomped because that’s how I run.”

Sevoltne taps her feet on the ground very clumsily. Aofil joins her chuckle despite not finding it funny. Their concern is overwhelming them.

“The stomp launched a wave of water that crashed over a human. He said that it was fine, but I felt really bad about it afterwards. I don’t know why, it was an accident.” She leans closer to Aofil with a hand next to her beak. Aofil leans away just enough for it to not be noticed. “I guess I caught a glimpse of his face,” she chuckles again.

“He is pretty proud of that stubble, yeah,” Aofil adds.

Sevoltne nods very ecstatically, and with a wink.

“Seeing as he turned into this building I came back around lunch and asked a human female if she’d seen anyone with a pair of drenched trousers.” Sevoltne taps her beak with a claw. “I think her name was Julie.”

Aofil nods.

“She pointed to a trail of wet footsteps,” Sevoltne continues with an ever growing smile, “and I followed them. I caught up to Tylior, and asked if there was anyway for me to repay him. It took a while for him to answer, but eventually he said that dinner is always nice.”

“A date?” Aofil asks, being careful to make it sound as pleasant as possible.

“It turned into one.”

An avalanche of worry falls over Aofil. “Oh.”

Sevoltne nods. “Yeah.”

The hair, and fur, on Aofil’s arm solidifies into spikes, burrowing into their arm, stinging like hot needles. They muster a smile, but it’s not genuine to them. “How nice.”

Sevoltne rolls her claws as she notices Aofil’s change in tone. “I’m sorry if I came to you with a bit too much information. Tylior’s tongue seems to loosen up after only a couple of drinks, and we had more than few. I’m surprised he came to work today.”

“Yeah, he,” Aofil pauses to exhale, “he can’t handle alcohol when he’s awake, but he can when he’s asleep. I’ve never figured it out.”

Sevoltne again puts her hand next to her beak. “I have my theories.”

“How do you mean?” Aofil asks unnaturally quick. Their eyes dart around Sevoltne’s face, but they can’t seem to catch her eyes. They’re off to the side, avoiding Aofil’s.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” comes a sudden whisper in Aofil’s other ear.

Aofil almost jumps out of their skin, causing Tylior to laugh loudly at their reaction. “Dammit, Tylior!” grumbles Aofil. “Aren’t you supposed to be home?”

“Got a call from Julie earlier this evening. She said that Sevoltne was here at your presentation, Aofil. So, knowing that it went well?” Tylior hangs a pair of questioning fingers on Aofil and Sevoltne until Sevoltne nods. “I looked up a recipe and tried my hand at baking something.”

The edge of Sevoltne’s wings poke Aofil before retracting in embarrassment. “Did you?”

Tylior nods. “Yes, banana pie.”

Sevoltne stands up quickly and clamps her hands together. “For me?”

Tylior glances down at Aofil. “For you as well. If you want, that is.”

Aofil lips curl together. “I’m fine.”

Sevoltne doesn’t pick up on their subtle huff, but Tylior does. It’s a sound all too familiar for him, Aofil knows that as well. “Sevoltne,” Tylior summons a calm smile, “where’s your bag?”

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten it in the classroom. Um, Aofil?”

“Two doors down, second door inside the corridor,” they answer without any emotion.

Sevoltne nods and gives Tylior a peck on his cheek as she passes him. Tylior sits down with Aofil when he hears the door close behind him. He meets Aofil’s eyes, but breaks eye contact to sigh. “Aofil.”

“One day? You’ve known her for one day, Tyl. Are you being serious right now?”

“She’s,” Tylior sighs again, deeper than before, “she’s wonderful. She finds me funny. She’s funny as well. She has a nice job. Smart. She has some nice, you know.”

Tylior’s hands work their way up his body, but Aofil stops him almost immediately. “Spare me.”

“Yesterday was one of the best nights I’ve had, period. Everything clicked, it was,” Tylior hesitates, but Aofil already knows what word he was about to use.

“Yesterday was magical, Aof. In way more ways than one. We,” Tylior hesitates again, but this time there’s a smile on his lips as he recalls the event, “went all the way.”

Aofil can’t tell which emotion that’s showing on their face. Tylior sees which though, and scoffs at his own words. He leans back onto the wall behind him with his hands together and his fingers drumming rhythmically.

“I know, Aof. It’s silly. It’s real goddamn silly, if not stupid as well. But, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with her. We just,” Tylior balls his two hands together, “click, you know? I’m not gonna move in with her or propose to her tomorrow, but I did take some time out of my day to make her a banana pie. That should say it all, really. I’ve never baked something before in my life, let alone for someone else. Let alone again for a monster! A monster that almost destroyed my pants, no less.”

Tylior puts a hand on Aofil, who debates whether or not to allow it. As they debate it in their head, Tylior catches his breath. “That’s why I want you to come and have some with us. You’re not gonna be the third wheel, I promise. If anything I’m afraid that you’ll steal her from me, but I’m willing to take that risk if it means you getting closer to understanding, Aofil.”

“Found it!” announces Sevoltne. Neither Aofil or Tylior react. They don’t even acknowledge her when she walks up to them and swivel her head back and forth between them. “You two ready?”

Aofil breaks eye contact with Tylior, and does so coldly. They smile to Sevoltne. “You and Tylior enjoy that pie without me. I’ve had enough for today.” Aofil pats their stomach. “We humans actually get full, even from magic grub. Right, Tyl?”

Tylior tries to reestablish their eyes to Aofil’s, but Aofil isn’t letting him. They look at him, but not in the way Tylior wants. Aofil’s fake smile is good, but Tylior knows it. He gives it one last chance before breaking off himself and shrugging to Sevoltne. “More for us!”

“I guess so...” She seems a bit sad over Afoil’s rejection, but as Tylior motions for the exit after a brief goodbye with Aofil, he assures Sevoltne that’s it’s not because she’s a monster.

He’s a good liar.

Aofil sits alone while trying to gather their thoughts. It’s fruitless, just like their taste buds are gonna be for the rest of the night. No, this is for the better. Aofil rolls up their sleeve and pushes down the fur. It stings from the broken bone inside, quite a lot actually, but the itching is driving them insane.

Well, more insane.

They’ve kicked everything Tylior thought he’d accomplished straight to the curb, and then some. He’ll recover though, he’s a good person. A great friend that always have Aofil’s back.

So why can’t Aofil be happy for him? Why are they angry with him? They touch their cheeks.

Normal, no blossoming heat. That’s even worse!

Why can’t they be glad that he’s found love? Even though it’s a monster, Aofil should be happy for their friend. They look down at their arm again.

At least now they know why he radiated magic earlier today. Is what why they’re mad at him? Is it because of Sevoltne that Aofil is angry and disappointed? He didn’t choose to fall in love with her! They can’t think like this. Aofil can’t blame him!

Yet they do! Why!?

“Fuck!”

The word bounces around the empty building, not dying out for an extremely long time. Aofil’s sure that the principal heard it, but right now they don’t care about her. They massage their throat, the word took a toll on it.

And it didn’t help either!

Aofil sighs, they’re too tired for this. Too exhausted from their curse, their arm, not having eaten properly, having to probably do another interview, and this time with a monster. They need to get home and calm down, nothing else will help at the moment.

Their mouth tastes bitter, would’ve been nice to have a slice of that banana pie right now. Human pie, no magic. But alas, they’re cursed.

And now they can’t be around their friend anymore, because he’s in love. Love comes before friends, especially friends who can’t even appreciate the company. Especially friends who are now allergic to him.

It’s not fair, any of this.

Aofil’s quiet mumbling and vacant behavior has them sitting alone on the subway home. If they had any mind to spare they would’ve enjoyed it, but their head is full with the realization that their best friend is now food for their curse. The rain at their stop is a blessing though, since it gives them a reason to blame their wet face on something other than the tears staining their cheeks.

The street to their home is more crowded than usual, despite it being late in the evening on a workday. It gives their mind something peculiar to think about, and Aofil welcomes it with open arms. A couple of fire engines stand around the corner of their building at a stop light.

There’s no smoke in the air, and it’s raining. Why are they there? No flames wherever Aofil turns their head neither.

Heavy footsteps make their way down the staircase and Aofil holds the door for whoever it is. Two firemen thank them as they pass Aofil, and Aofil’s so baffled that they forget to ask them what they were doing there. When they realize that they could ask them, the firemen have already disappeared into the now dispersing crowd.

Aofil unlocks the door with a very tired yawn. At least they’re home now. Just need to make something simple to eat and then sink down into their sofa to watch something that they don’t have to dedicate any though to.

Their kettle whistles, and Aofil freezes in place. They didn’t use it during the morning, and if they did then their home would’ve been nothing but soot by now. Is that why the firemen were here? No, can’t be. They sample the smell heading their way.

Sweet, and sour.

The springs on Aofil’s sofa sing that someone is using it. Aofil rushes the corner, and their eyes almost burrow through the back of their skull.

“a bit smaller than your other place.”

A bony finger is dragged on top of the back of the sofa.

“not as dusty though, heh.”


	68. Blues in soul

The sport shoes squeak loudly as they're dragged through the apartment along with their wearer. The shoes find footing outside the door after some light stumbling from the forceful shove over the front door sill.

"is this how you greet an old friend?"

Aofil slams the door shut, but as they turn around they come face to face with the smile again, startling them like no other.

"must've been keeping busy if you already forgot i could do this, aof."

"Get the fuck out, Sans! I'm serious, and I don't need this right now." Aofil opens the door, not having let go of the handle. "If you have any respect for me then you'll leave now. Please, I'm begging you.”

Sans tilts his head up and meets Aofil’s eyes. He keeps them there for a while before shrugging and leaving. Aofil closes the door behind him, and breathes out. Their head turns light and they have to support themselves on the wall with their hand as to not collapse. The spinning eventually fades, and Aofil diverges their attention to the tea on their stove. They take their kettle and pour it all out into their sink.

“now that’s a bit rude.”

The last drops of the scolding hot tea fly off the startled kettle and onto Aofil’s exposed hand. They drop the kettle and it crashes into the empty sink with a loud and jarring sound. Aofil clenches their teeth as a gentle breeze sweeps their legs. They massage their hand before rinsing it under cold water.

“What do you want?” Aofil sighs tiredly.

Sans leans in closer while cocking his head to the side. “in my good ear.”

“The fuck are you doing here, Sans?” Aofil repeats with a vicious glare.

“had my ways past and noticed that your window was open. thought i would swing by and say hello.”

“And now that we’ve said that, are you gonna leave?”

Sans snaps a finger to the sink. “well i was planning on having some tea with you, but if you want to make some human tea instead to share with an old friend i’m not gonna say no.”

Aofil inspects the scald on the back of their hand. They feel some magic diverge from further down their arm and travel up to their hand. Their veins pulsate as they’re filled more than normally. It stings, both from their arm having less magic dedicated to it, and from the pressure in their hand. They tug at the band around their neck holding their plastic brace, and it evens out the pressure.

“you alright?”

Aofil’s hand clenches into a fist, “No, Sans,” and then a bit more, “I’m not alright. I know you don’t have any eyes, but I also know that you’ve seen it by now. You saw it as I left as well. Why would now be any different?”

The furrowing of Sans’ brow is just as uncomfortable as it ever was to Aofil. “because isn’t that the very reason as to why you left? so that things would be different? but the more things change, the more they stay the same, right? it was pretty obvious from your presentation.”

“You,” Aofil’s face drains of color, and their eyes focus on a horizon far far away, “you were there?”

“it was either signing up for jury duty for a human teacher,” Aofil looks down at where Sans was, but he’s gone. His voice comes from the living room, and when Aofil peeks their head around they find Sans on the sofa with his feet on the table in front. He continues, “or helping out with building the city. if you ask me, living in a house is much more comfortable when you’re not aware of all the flaws it has. i can sleep through a dull presentation, not a bunch of hammering and constructing.”

Sans lifts a proud finger. “speaking of that,” his voice is filled with the same pride as he smiles at his segue, “you should start staking claims in the new city as soon as you can, aof. the lots are flying off the shelves, so to speak. i’m sure that you’ll have first pick though if you choose. You have monsters in high places, remember?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“are you gonna commute all the way from here?”

Aofil puts up a confused hand towards Sans. “What?”

“how else are you gonna get to work?” Sans repeats slower and more clearly.

“What!?”

“when you eventually nail the interview with the monster school. the writing is on the wall, aof, even i can see that.” Sans bends both of his hands into a pair of bony binoculars and puts them up to his eye sockets. “and like you said, i don’t have any eyes.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” scoffs Aofil with a plastered smirk. “I know how to fake being stupid.”

Sans’ fingers finds its way into the side of his skull. He bores it a bit before rolling and flicking something away. Aofil shakes their head at the behavior. “you know how to be stupid for real so i don’t doubt you on that, aof. you remember when you accused me of blowing things out of proportions? making a big deal out of stuff and putting on an overtly grandiose show?”

Aofil chuckles. “You holding a damn grudge?”

“when someone is being stupid as mettaton would be if stupidity sells.” Sans nods. “yes, then i’ll hold a grudge. you told toriel and asgore that you were their child’s twin, their dead child’s twin, and then you drove off into the sunset. at your parents graveyard no less, because why not? a bit of drama hasn’t killed anyone.” Sans snaps his fingers in realization. “oh wait, that’s what you accused me of.”

“Get out, Sans,” Aofil’s voice is cold like Snowdi… Like a blizzard, “or else I’m calling the police.”

“i know the king and queen, so good luck with that. besides,” Aofil barely has time to react as Sans shortcuts to them and then back to the sofa, “your phone is out of battery. or, to be fair,” Sans pats the backside of Aofil’s phone against his palm, “the battery is out of your phone.”

Aofil takes a heavy step forward.

“you never stopped to think how the others felt when you left?”

The question halts Aofil in their step, like a brick wall.

“guess not.”

“Asriel came back, Sans. Not even me leaving can hold a candle to the prince of the monsters coming back, especially not for the king and queen. I’m gonna be a footnote in the history books, and I’m hesitant to say that I even want that much. Tell them to rewrite it so that I was possessed by Chara or something. At least that way I’m not involved directly, and I can also refute any knowledge of you. It also keeps the story more focused on the core group as well, no additional and superfluous characters such as me to muddle the events. It makes Chara the hero as well. Not their last name, just Chara, if you can. They were the hope of the Underground, that’s what the monsters thought of them. Having the humans believe that too negates any conflicting views, at least on that front.”

Sans doesn’t make any attempts to stop Aofil from retrieving their phone and battery out of his hand. He tilts his head to them though. “wow, you have stopped to think about it.”

“Couldn’t think of anything else for quite a while. I tried, by god did I try, but I couldn’t shake them off,” Aofil raises their fur covered arm, “and with this shooting determination constantly I also imagined a hundred ways how I would kill them and force them back into the Underground. And before you ask, no, it didn’t make me feel any better. If anything it made it worse.” Aofil sighs as they lower their arm carefully back down. “So much worse.”

“didn’t say that you were right in your thinking, just that you made the effort to.” Sans narrows his eyes on Aofil’s arm before they have time to react with an answer. “what is that?”

Aofil doesn’t look down, they already know what Sans is looking at. They noticed it peeking out of the cast as well. “Fur.”

“it looks like...”

“Yup,” Aofil interrupts, denying Sans the tension, ”Dreemurr fur.”

“that’s,” Sans drums his fingers on the table in front of him, “interesting. got it from your fusion with asriel?”

“It’s the only explanation I can think of. Not that I’ve thought of anything else, to be honest.”

“is it soft?”

Aofil shoots down the question with a fiery look.

“very soft, then. so,” Sans leans back into the sofa again and pats his chest. Some mustard sticks to his hand, “what about your soul? does it have a piece of asriel’s in it?” Sans leans forward again, with his unstained hand on his chin. “does asriel have a part of yours in his? that’s actually the better question.”

“Haven’t bothered to check.”

Sans prepares his hand for a snap of his fingers. “may i?”

“No, you may not.”

Sans leans in with his smile and wiggles his eyebrows playfully. Aofil summons an even angrier glare, and Sans opens his hand upright.

“fine, fine. forget i ever asked.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do all this time. You being here is not really helping.”

“you’ll have to excuse me then for not being one of your pills.”

The burning gaze in Aofil’s eyes freezes, and Sans takes the opportunity to shortcut his arm into Aofil’s bag. He fishes up the empty jar, and shortcuts back to the sofa. With it spinning in his hand he reads it to himself.

“side effects may include, gastronomical issues,” Sans chuckles loudly so that Aofil can hear, “insomnia, and,” Sans lifts a finger and holds the last symptom for dramatic effect even though he’s well aware that Aofil already knows it, “depression.”

Aofil’s forehead is buried into their palm. “Don’t.”

“so the gastronomical problems explain you not eating the pie, sleepiness explains your attitude during the presentation, and the depression explains your attitude right now.”

Aofil tries to cross their arms, but they only manage to put one underneath their injured one. “What’s your point here?”

“stop being so dramatic. do the interview, and do it good,” Sans counts the points down on his fingers, “and then come back. we miss you, and we’d like our aim to be better. can’t really practice it without you not being present.”

With a hand on his lips Sans thinks over what he just said with a audible hum. “it sounded much better in my head.”

“Haven’t had anything to indicate that you’ve been aching for my company,” Aofil nods towards the door, “no mail, no phone, no nothing.”

“come on now. i just figured out where you lived.”

Aofil shakes their head. “Don’t believe you.”

“you believed that the best way to solve everyone’s problem was just to cut them off directly without talking about it first, so i’m not holding your belief in high regard,” Sans returns his hands into his pockets. ” listen, we’ve kept our distance from you because you needed it, but it’s been years, aof. you’ve had time to think, and we both know that you want to go back.”

“Do we now?!”

Aofil rips off the brace and buttons down their shirt arm. They roll it back, exposing the vibrating fur on their arm. “You see this?”

Sans almost fuses with the sofa as he braces from what he just saw. He hangs his eyes on the shaking arm and the crazy grin on Aofil’s face. “yeah, i did. we just spoke about it.”

“It’s not something that should be there! It’s a nice little source of determination, my parting gift. My award for being the hero! For having saved the monsters I was given this. For being the reason the monsters aren’t clawing their heads out I was pushed away. A nice reminder that all this soul and magic business, my curse, will never stop haunting me. Despite my best efforts not to have it be a part of my life. I have to take medication so that I don’t get overwhelmed by thoughts that I know aren’t mine, but that I still believe in. I constantly have to question myself, and that’s all because of you! So pray fucking tell me, Sans! Why should I ever listen to you? Why should I ever come back to the ones that rewarded me by shackling me to the curse they so eagerly wanted out of their life? They, you, got what you wanted, I didn’t get anything!”

Sans again cleanses his non existing ear as Aofil catches their breath. “you done?”

Aofil sinks down next to Sans. Their hand run over their heavy head. It weighs a tonne in Aofil’s hands, like a boulder. Their wet hair hangs down over their hands, hiding their face further.

The tears run as heavy as the head. Crashing down on the sofa and mattress, and darkening the fabric. Aofil’s pained sulks interrupts their sharp breathing, and the sound bounces around the living room like a tragic symphony.

“we both know that i’m not the one to be helpful in these kind of situations, aof,” Aofil hears the creaking of the fabric on the sofa as Sans jumps out of it, “so i’m just gonna take my leave. none of us are mad at you, aof. i know that you know that, but again,” Sans chuckles for himself, “i’m terrible at this. i am gonna be mad at you if you don’t give it a proper chance though.”

Aofil dries their nose with their sleeve. It stains it pretty bad. “Before you go, how did you get in?”

Sans nods to the kitchen window. The toaster is down on its side on the windowsill. "you really should open your window a bit more, aof. i'm not the slimmest of monsters, and you’re well aware of that."

"There was quite a bit of commotion outside, you know?"

"yeah, i got stuck. i guess people called for the fire brigade as i was trying to wiggle myself inside. don't worry though, i told them that everything was fine when they rang on the door."

“My door.”

“semantics.”

"If I had any energy left I would be mad at you for answering it. Heck, for entering without my permission as well. But right now I’m, I don’t know. I feel exhausted, and hollow”

“don’t worry, i’ll lock the door on my way out,” Sans gives Aofil a pat on their shoulder, “you sit here and do whatever. i’ve been here long enough, and i’d rather not shortcut home, it gives me such an appetite. i don’t like eating this late though, not a fan of having an appenight.”

Aofil doesn’t have the strength to argue Sans over how he would lock the door before exiting, instead they just shrug their shoulders at the joke. Sans does too, before walking up to the door, and locking it. He then lifts up the letterbox, and vanishes as Aofil blinks. The mail on the doormat flutters in the wind left behind by Sans’ shortcut. A small brochure detailing the new upcoming MTT branded mega store is flipped Mettaton face up. Aofil tries to quickly forget it as they use their last strength to head for the kitchen.

A microwaved meal and glass of water later they collapse in their bed. Their pulsating arm keeps them up for longer than they want, but eventually they feel their eyes close together.

“Feels a bit weird writing you a letter, but seeing as I’m off for a trip with my class, I think this is the best.”

Aofil pours themselves a cup of coffee and fetch an apple from the fruit bowl inside the teacher’s lounge. They sit back down in their chair and pick up the paper left for them by Tylior.

“Don’t worry about yesterday, Aof. We’ll figure something out later down the line about you and the monsters. I’m not gonna give up on you, and you know that. Don’t give much thought to it, that’s my recommendation. I know that you like to downplay your illness, but I also know that you have to take medication for it.”

Aofil flexes their thigh, rattling the now refilled jar of medicine. Unfortunately they couldn’t get anything for their pounding headache from their doctor, but it will probably fade as the day goes on. Their arm feels fine as well. It stings, but not as much as it should do. Aofil has it in the plastic casing just for show really, and the itching it produces rivals the pain, so they don’t have to act it being hurtful.

“And,” the letter continues. Tylior’s writing being as decipherable as something a Temm… Aofil shakes their head. Decipherable as their doctor’s writing. Much better, “you were also tired and exhausted from the presentation, and with your arm being broken. Sevoltne isn’t angry with you either, she understands. What I’m trying to get through is that I’ve let yesterday become water under the bridge, and I want you to think of it as well. Your class passed the test, by the way. Just thought I’d let you know.”

There’s a couple of lines afterwards that are layered on top of some previously erased lines, making the rest of the letter more difficult to read. “Anyway, I’ll see you when I see you. There’s some leftover pie in the freezer as well, behind that package of hotdog buns.”

Aofil reaches over for the handle and scoots away the frozen bread, revealing a rock hard slice of pie. They tap it with a nearby fork, and it clinks like it was made out of stone. Aofil runs it in the microwave as they read the last part of the letter.

“Sevoltne gave me some tips on cooking, and used her own magic on your slice!”

God. Fucking. Dammit!

“It’s so much better because of that! Believe me!”

Aofil doesn’t bother with the rest. It’s already ruined. Both the letter, and the pie.

The microwave dings, and Aofil throws the pie directly in the trash along with their apple. They crumple the paper, and throw it on top of the pie.

Hopefully Tylior won’t notice. The last line is still visible when Aofil closes the trash lid.

“Lunch on Sunday still!”

“Yeah, sure,” Aofil whispers to the lid before heading for their classroom.

“Your homework for tomorrow are these pages,” Aofil ends their class by pointing to the pages on the blackboard behind them. The bell rings directly afterwards, and the students head for the door. Aofil drinks some more water to wash the last of their headache away. When they see the last of their pupils leave they take their second pill for the day. Another swig of water helps it go down, but as they replace their glass on their desk, it hits something.

An apple? Aofil picks it up. Sure is one. Wait, they tossed theirs in the trash before the class, who’s this? Maybe it’s the same student that forgot it yesterday?

Aofil puts it back on their desk and starts cleaning their blackboard.

One of their students knocks on the door, and Aofil invites them in without looking. “Come in!”

Footsteps close in and stop in front of their desk. “Is this apple yours?” Aofil asks, finishing up the last part of their blackboard.

No answer.

“Did you forget one yesterday as well?”

No answer.

“Yes, I know I gave you a short notice on the homework, but we’re coming up on some real exciting stuff, so it will be worth it!”

Aofil rinses off their sponge in the sink next to the blackboard, and dries their hand on the towel. They turn around with a smile.

And stop with it fading into disbelief.

A striped arm picks up the apple, rubs with with a finger, and then puts it back down.

“Frisk?”

They nod.


	69. Two that fell, but only one that rose

"Why, why are you here? To talk?"

Frisk's smile fades from their lips as their eyes break from Aofil's. They look ashamed, and Aofil quickly remembers why.

"Sorry. Still not, even after all these years?"

Frisk shakes their head with their eyes down on the desk. They run their finger around on it, drawing figures.

"Everyone else, but not me?"

Weak nod.

"And you won't tell me why?"

Weaker shake.

“Just like before?”

Nod.

Aofil taps on the apple. “Just like before," they repeat. "You doing fine in school, by the way?”

Proud nod.

“Good grades, good friends?”

Reserved nod.

“Friends?”

Relaxed nod.

“Grades?”

Another reserved nod.

“I see. Good, very good.”

Aofil leans back in their chair and exhales a tired and a bit annoyed sigh. First Sans, now Frisk? Very suspicious. Did he shortcut Frisk here, or were they already here earlier? Strange, and again, very suspicious.

Aofil rolls their thumbs together, not caring that one of their arm is supposed to be broken. It's only Frisk here, and they already know everything.

Or do they?

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open. No, they don't. Frisk doesn't know about the fur! Oh no, did they mess up? What if they tell the others? Sans is enough of a risk, and with Frisk to testify with him...

As Aofil is screaming inside their head, Frisk lifts theirs, and tilts it towards the plastic case around Aofil's arm. Aofil sighs with relief. Is it really relief though? Relief from that they didn't mess up, sure, but shouldn't Frisk knowing about it be worse for them? When did Frisk learn about the fur?

The curtains over the open window at the end of the classroom flutters as winds flows in pass it. Aofil scoffs, should've guessed as much. They unholster the band around their neck and place their arm down on the desk. "Sans told you?" they ask Frisk while unhooking the straps around their arm.

Frisk nods, and Aofil detects eager anticipation on Frisk’s face.

More and more fur is exposed as Aofil rolls up their arm. They keep an eye on the door, just in case. "How much did he tell you?"

The look on Frisk's face contains a strong undertone of disappointment as Aofil stops at the bend of their arm. The anticipation on Frisk’s face doesn’t explode into glee, instead it peters out like a sigh not unlike the one Frisk exhales.

Aofil can't help but chuckle a bit at Frisk's reaction. "That much? Well, should've expected him to blow it a bit out of proportion. How much did he say it was, exactly?"

Frisk holds up their hand, points to the edge of their fingers with one on their other hand, and then runs that finger up their arm and over their shoulder, stopping, and then expanding their fist into an explosion covering their entire chest.

Aofil shakes their head at the imagery. "Did he say something about horns as well?"

Hard shake.

"I see."

Frisk reaches for the fur with their hand, but Aofil stops them gently, but firmly, with their other hand. "You already know what it's going to feel like, Frisk."

A couple of second passes before Frisk gives up, and returns their hand willingly. Aofil nods in thanks, and rolls back their sleeve. They return their eyes to Frisk's. Wait a minute...

Frisk's eyes, they're there!

Frisk smiles at Aofil's very loud reaction, "What?" and nods while blinking.

It takes a while for Aofil to collect themselves. "Contacts?"

Frisk nods and blinks at the same time.

"They're very nice, Frisk. Same as Tori..." Aofil catches their tongue, and averts their head. Frisk readjusts themselves at the same time, and the air between the two turns very uncomfortable.

Aofil forces themselves to collect their thoughts, and push away whatever memories that came surging back. They clear their throat. "Same as hers, I guess?"

Weak nod.

"Good choice. Listen, I never really got the chance to ask, did I hurt you before when I?"

Frisk interrupts with a very aggressive shake of their head. They regret their decision pretty quickly, and is forced to sit down on a nearby chair. They clutch their head. If it's from the question, or the memory?

Aofil can't tell.

"Frisk, I'm sorry."

Weak nod, coupled with a faint snivel. Aofil feels their shoulders getting heavier looking at Frisk. They take strain by leaning on their arms with their hands closed together on the desk. The weight is under control, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hurting like hell.

"You've grown a lot," Aofil comments after a couple of minutes of silence. "You're not the kid I saw through the taxi window. You’re big now, these years have been very kind to you."

Aofil notices the smallest of smiles underneath Frisk's curtain of hair obscuring their face.

"Though, I guess you had grown up enough for a lifetime during your," Aofil searches carefully for their next word, "adventure. For better, and for worse."

Frisk's arm finds its way up their other, comforting as much as it can, even if it's futile. They squeeze their own shoulder, hard.

"I guess the same can be said for your, um, brother?"

Very weak nod.

"You two doing fine now?"

Weak nod.

"Good parents?"

Nod.

"Figured as much. You saved them, Frisk. You've earned your good life."

The grip on Frisk's shoulder loosens, and eventually they let go of it. They brush their hair away, and look up towards Aofil. Their gaze is stern, but caring. They don't speak a word, but Aofil hears clearly what they want to say.

Aofil looks down at their arm and sighs deeply before leaning back and massaging their forehead with their healthy arm. "It's not that simple, Frisk."

Aggressive nod!

“No, it isn’t.”

Stern twist of the lips.

“Yes, it is that hard for me, Frisk! You have a family that’s yours, and that’s there for you. I,” Aofil’s hands harden the grip on the other, “I don’t,” Aofil finally manages to force out of themselves, but not without it sapping a lot of their strength. “I was so close to moving on from them, I was so close to starting my own life. I was just a corner away from accepting that they were dead, and that I was left alone, but when you, them,” Aofil corrects with a involuntary snarl, “came, I was reminded. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I latched on to them like they were my own family. My own dead family! I couldn’t move on with them around me! And no wonder, because Chara was a part of theirs! They became my substitute for a family, and I became their substitute for Chara! You, Frisk, you didn’t have anything before.”

The words hit Frisk like a train, and they visibly recoil in their chair.

“Don’t believe for a second that saying this doesn’t hurt me as well, Frisk! You were something new in their life whereas I was something that reminded them of a better time, and so were they with me. I was something new for their memories, but I wasn’t new for them. Me and them, it doesn’t work, not when the foundation is something else. Is someone else. We’re replacements for one another, not something new in our lives. We can’t and will never be able to fully replace the ones that went away before us.”

Frisk flies out of their chair, with fists clenched in anger. Their mouth is quaking and exposing their teeth. Their glare could level a building, but Aofil weathers it. They feel it though.

It’s piercing through their heart.

“Say it then!”

Frisk shakes their head.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Frisk! Tell me there’s a way out of this!”

Frisk marches towards Aofil, still with their head jolting from side to side.

“Tell me,” Aofil hears their voice waiver. “Please, Frisk. Tell me that there’s a way.”

Frisk stops in front of Aofil’s desk. Their last hinder. Aofil’s hands are quivering on the desk, but they still have enough strength to keep their face cold. Frisk looks down at the desk, and takes a step around it. They close in on Aofil, and fall into their arms. Aofil welcomes them. Embraces them.

Weeps with them.

“I miss you,” Aofil whispers, felling their energy fading with every tear falling on Frisk’s shoulder, and with every tear from Frisk hitting their shoulder. “I miss you all so much. Every day, every second! I try so hard, but I can’t let go of you. I want to come back, there’s nothing else in the world I want to do, but,” Aofil pushes Frisk away gently, “I can’t. It’s not the right thing to do. It’s not fair to them, or to me. It wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place! This wasn’t my story. It was yours, still is yours.”

Aofil drops their hands from Frisk’s shoulders. “Not mine.”

Frisk tries to go in for another hug, but Aofil holds them back. Frisk tries again, but it fails.

But they refuse!

Again they fail, and again they refuse!

They’re determined, but so is Aofil. It sends shock waves of pain from their injured arm, but they still keep Frisk away.

“It’s no use, Frisk. Please, we both don’t need for this to be harder than it is. You have your life, I have mine. This is for the best, for everyone.”

But it refused!

“Frisk!” Aofil grabs Frisk’s arms. “Stop it!”

But it refused.

“Listen to me, Frisk.”

But it refused…

“Please.”

But it…

“If you really want me to be happy.”

...refused.

“Then let me live my own life.”

…

Frisk’s arms go limp, falling down on either side of their body. Aofil catches them though, and holds Frisk’s hands in their. “I am so glad to see you, Frisk, and I’m so glad to see how much you’ve grown. Never forget that. But please, do forget me. Do it for me. I can’t be with them. Literally as well. I’m cursed, and there’s no place for a curse in your kingdom, Frisk.”

Heavy sob.

“It is your kingdom, Frisk. You made it possible, you’re royalty now. You’re not the hope of the Underground, you’re the hope of the Surface. I’m a reminder of a time before the Surface. I love everyone of those characters you brought up that day, but that’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m not a part of their life anymore, because I wasn’t supposed to be one. I was just the first human they saw, and by far not the best one. Surely they’ve met hundreds if not thousands of humans by now. I want to be a face in the mass, and not even that. I don’t want to be remembered, because then I will remember. I want, I need, to finally find peace about my own family.”

Frisk’s eyes quiver with water. Aofil offers a helping arm sleeve, and dries off the tears on the brink off falling down, “Frisk, live your life. Help the monsters coexist with us humans. Do that by living your life, with your family. Not me, I’m not apart of it. I never was. I can’t be, because of my curse. You’re wasting your time on me. Please, Frisk, don’t you have something better to do?”

Aofil welcomes Frisk into their arms again, “Thank you,” because they feel it’s different now. Frisk isn’t trying to convince them, Aofil feels. Frisk is trying to cope now as well.

“I know it’s hard, Frisk, and I know that there’s a chance, but I don’t want to risk my life on long shots. Not again. It burned me once,” Aofil brings their stained arm into Frisk’s view, “and it’s still hurting. It will never stop hurting, and it’s because I made the choice to have them remember me. It would’ve been better if I just left instead of playing the hero. Maybe then I could’ve returned, but that’s way past us now.”

Frisk’s grip relaxes on Aofil’s shirt.

“No reset.”

It hardens again.

“It’s not gonna get better than this, Frisk. And you know that. If not this, then something else will be worse, far worse. You have your life now, and I have mine. It’s fine now. We just have to,” Aofil gives Frisk’s back a couple of reassuring pats, “learn to live with it.”

Aofil let’s Frisk rest against them for a while, but eventually they have to pry Frisk away.

“Remember when you told me that it wouldn’t get any easier knowing about the past?”

Frisk’s nod stains and wrinkles Aofil’s shirt.

“Well, it doesn’t.”

Aofil’s chuckle doesn’t help, quite the opposite, really.

“And the best way for you now is to pay me no mind no more. You don’t need another weight on your shoulders. They’re already heavier than what they should be. Don’t put me on them as well. I’ll miss you, Frisk. I’ll miss them as well, but it’s time now.”

Frisk gives Aofil one last hug.

“Goodbye.”

A pair of heavy knocks on the door forces Aofil to quickly wrap up their arm again. They put on their wind jacket to cover up the stains on their shirt, and nods to Frisk. “Come in.”

The principal enters. “Ah, they found you.”

Aofil’s confused at first, but they soon realize who the principal is talking about. “Hm, oh yeah,” and pats Frisk on the head, “they did.”

Before the principal has time to answer Aofil stands up with Frisk’s hand in theirs. “And they were just about to leave, right?”

Frisk slips their hand out of Aofil’s, and closes the door behind them. The principal recoils from the slam, and follows Frisk with their eyes through the window in the door. Aofil sits down again. “Anything on your mind?” they ask.

The principal answer comes in the form of a conflicted hum. She glances towards Aofil, but then quickly turn her eyes back trough the window. After a couple of seconds she glances back to Aofil, and this time her eyes linger. She clears her throat and tug at the edges of her suit to straighten it. She twist her lips in thought before smacking them together. “So, your cousin’s kid?”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, been a while since I saw them last time.”

Technically they’re not lying.

The principal turns her head from the door to Aofil. A smile builds on her lips, and she raises an eyebrow and scoffs with a chuckle. “I knew it!”

Aofil’s smile turns into a worried frown. “What?”

The principal takes a seat opposite of Aofil’s desk. “You,” she points with a waggling finger. “You know the monster royals, don’t you?”

A knowing smirk builds up on the principal’s lips as Aofil freezes up in fear. She has the courtesy to wait for Aofil to thaw out a bit before continuing though, but it takes a long while of suspended silence. She nods towards the door with a wink. “That kid, that was Frisk. The adopted human child of the monster king and queen. Been on the news for like, a couple of years now. Impossible to not have noticed unless you make a distinct effort not to engage in any form of news regarding the monsters.”

The principal’s wink is almost audible. ”They just showed up an hour or so ago, and asked for you specifically. I thought they were here to congratulate you on passing into the next step of the monster school program.”

The principal scratches her chin in thought. “A bit weird sending a kid, I admit, but I thought they had some monsters accompanying them so I sent them to your classroom. Didn’t see them when I went for the printer. What was it, ten minutes later or something? So I guess they must’ve attended your class. Did you see them?”

Aofil shakes their head, but their neck is stiff like a concrete pillar so it only barely moves. The principal crosses her arms and readjusts herself in her chair. “So again, I guessed that they were staking you out further. For that clause in the contract, remember? Who else to send to see a teacher in their natural state, but a pupil of the same age? Color me surprised then when I came in here and saw you two holding hands!”

The principal has to quell her chortle with her hand. “My first thought was that you must’ve done beyond excellent to warrant that reaction. My second thought was a bit more,” the principal clears her throat, “insidious, but I quickly dismissed that one. I was a bit dazed trying to figure out what I saw, but then another explanation hit me. The reason you’re angry with them, the reason you’re so hellbent on getting away from the monsters. Why you have to take medication. Aofil, you were at the trial, right?”

Aofil doesn’t answer the question.

“You lost someone to the Underground, one of the six kids were close to you. And worse, you were close to the monsters. You only figured that out after you made friends with them!”

Aofil’s can’t see the principal in the eyes, and they lower their head.

“No...” The principal unravels her arms. Her eyes expand until they’re as big as her hanging mouth, and just as stunned. She struggles to form words, because she can’t believe what she's about to say. It all fits though, it all makes sense. “You were one of them. One of the kids! Oh my god...” The principal grabs her head as it turns light as air. “How long did you live down in the Underground? Did the Dreemurrs adopt you as well? Why didn’t you die?”

The principal’s breathing stops. “Why aren’t you with them any longer?”

“I’m handing in my resignation tomorrow,” comes the answer.

The words wash over the principal like a avalanche. She contemplates in silence before sighing. “You left them for a reason?”

Aofil nods.

“And now you’re being forced back to them?”

Aofil nods.

“I’m,” the principal runs her hand over her mouth, only know realizing what sh's done. “I’m so sorry, Aofil.”

Aofil gathers up their books and bag quietly, “It’s not your fault,” before leaving the principal alone and with a panicked expression on herr mouth. She looks pleadingly towards Aofil. “You couldn’t have known.”

The door is closed gently, but the apple on the desk still falls over.


	70. Leaning in too far

The doorbell on Aofil's door has been ringing for over a minute, but they keep on ignoring it. They know who it is, but they’ve no interest in speaking with him. The ringing continues for another minute, and is eventually replaced by heavy knocking. The knocking fades, and are replaced by some rattling from the handle, and from the lock. An angry voice yells something from outside Aofil’s door, and another tries to explain the situation as best it can.

Aofil recognizes the voice, and its quick wit that rapidly disarms the angry voice. It used to bring such happiness to them, but now? Now it's a voice from another past that they have to leave behind. The rattling of the lock continues while Aofil scrolls down on their phone. Pictures of apartments and houses fly past the screen. Anything that seems viable has the same words next to them.

Written in a green font. "Monsters in the neighborhood!” It’s something positive, the monsters are something positive. The monsters are good, for everyone.

For everyone, except Aofil.

They’re alone in this. They were naive to think that they would ever get away from this. They really are an idiot. And now they have to do it all over again. Find a new city, a new house, and a new life. Will they ever be able to settle down? Do they have to go further and further away until they reach the sea? What happens then when the monsters come to the beach?

Shit, there are monsters in the water as well! So nowhere is safe! Fantastic!

“Goddammit!”

The rattling from the lock on the door stops for a second. When it starts again the tone is different, very different.

Aofil returns to their phone. Just keep scrolling, there has gotta be something they can afford that’s not surrounded by monsters? Are they already forced to leave the country? How much time will that give them? A couple more years? More or less than what they had this time? There can’t be that many monsters though? Eventually it has to stop pouring out from that damn mountain, right? And monsters don’t grow up that quickly.

What’s this though? A whole slew of modern looking apartments without that green text next to them. There’s some red text though stapled next to the offerings. It’s bright red, but it makes Aofil smile.

“Monsters need not apply. Human applicants only.”

With eyes widened in surprise and interest, Aofil leans in closer, as a wave of relief washes over them. The apartments are nice, but where’s the catch? Very good looking. Reasonably priced, now that’s a surprise. Normally you’d have to pay an arm and a leg for these. Wait a second, Aofil has already payed an arm, so they only have to offer a leg. Aofil scoffs, they really needed to see this today. Too bad these weren’t available the first time they had to this, but hey, seems like now’s a turning point for Aofil. Half a year or so until they’re available though, but that’s fine.

“That’s fine,” Aofil repeats for themselves. They’ve lived longer than that all by themselves, so half a year won’t be a problem. They just have to go back to noodles and tea for the time being, but that’s worth it.

Where are they located though?

“Monster City.”

The phone glides slowly out of Aofil’s hand, and they sigh.

“Fuck.”

The lock on their door turns, and it opens. Aofil doesn’t care who it is, right now they kinda wish it was a robber.

“You didn’t lock your door.”

Yes, Aofil did.

Something is thrown at Aofil. They look out from their hand and down on the floor next to them. It’s their shoes. They look at the thrower, who has a mixture of pride for hitting Aofil from that far a distance, and concern, because they had to do it. Aofil shakes their head sternly.

“What are you doing here, Tylior?”

“It’s Sunday. It’s lunchtime. Let’s go.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Aofil’s stomach rumbles, as if summoned.

“Doesn’t matter!” Tylior snaps his fingers towards the door. “We need to talk.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing this entire week, Tyl! I’m exhausted, just leave me alone.”

“Yeah, I know you’ve been talking this entire week. Aof. You’re a teacher.”

“Was,” Aofil corrects viciously.

“Are,” Tylior deflects. “You still got a couple of weeks left.”

“Just don’t.”

“You also made a promise, Aof,” Tylior is quick to remind.

“You serious?” Aofil asks with disbelief and an eyebrow raised high. “Are you ten or something?”

“And how old are you? Five?” Tylior retorts with an even higher eyebrow. “Going home and locking yourself in your adult room instead of discussing like the adult you act to be.”

The fuck is he talking about? Aofil bursts out from their chair, knocking it over with a loud crash. “You think I’m like this because of some goddamn prank or something? You’ve no idea what I’ve been through!”

“Then tell me, please!” Tylior throws his arms in the air. “Wow! I don’t know what you’ve been through because you haven’t told me anything. What a surprise!”

“Maybe because I don’t want to relive the darkest moments of my life!” Aofil taps the sides of their skull with both their hands. “Ever thought about that?”

“I’ve been there for you every step of the way, Aofil. And you know that. You’re mad at me because of something you insist on not telling me. That’s fine, and I’ve respected that. I haven’t pried beyond what you’ve been comfortable sharing. I know that you have a past, and I know that it is bad. And that’s fine, we all have our skeletons in our closets.”

He has no idea how bad his choice of words are! Or does he?

“But,” Tylior marks with a ferocity that Aofil’s never heard from him before, “you can’t hold against me what you refuse to say. You’re mad at me, and you expect me to understand, but you don’t trust me enough to explain to me why. And that,” Tylior eyes harden on Aofil, “that, Aofil, is fucking respectless. That is not being fair to me. I should be furious at you for thinking so little of me, even after everything I’ve done, even after everything you’ve had me through. You’re full of shit, Aofil, but I’m willing to look past that, because we’re friends. But, here’s where I have to put my foot down, and only meet you halfway this time. That’s not me being unfair, that is me demanding a healthy friendship, where we both trust each other enough to be at equal footing.”

Aofil takes support on the table, and with their other hand they pinch their forehead. “Tylior, when have I ever lied to you? Honestly?”

Tylior explodes into a series of flails and desperate laughs. He regains himself after a few seconds, and throws his hand towards Aofil. “You’re leaning yourself on an arm that’s supposed to be fucking broken, Aof! Goddammit, what the hell is happening?”

Aofil returns their arm to their side, but it’s too late.

“Put on your damn shoes, Aof!” Tylior opens the door and holds it open. “Let’s go eat.”

The two don’t say a word on the way to the subway, on the subway, and from the subway. What is there to say? Small talk? No, what they have to get through between each other is too big to be filled with small talk. They need to do it public as well, so that their emotions don’t get in the way.

After some walking after their subway stop Tylior motions with a nod towards a nice little restaurant on the waterway.

“It’s packed full, Tyl.”

“I got us a reservation, Aof. Don’t worry.”

Aofil halts. “What do you mean? Reservation? What if I didn’t come?”

Tylior rolls his eyes and shakes away the question, “I know you, Aofil,” while putting a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “I know you more than you know.”

Aofil swats away the hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, really,” Tylior admits with a chuckle. “Just felt like I was supposed to say that.”

“Yeah, well it’s a bit creepy. I could’ve just as well called the police for you breaking into my apartment.”

Tylior starts walking again, and Aofil catches up. “Like I said, you didn’t lock your door. I mean, you did, but not after your landlord opened the door for me.”

“How?”

“She knows Sevoltne.”

“Right?”

The two arrive at the back of the line to the restaurant. “And she knows me as well, Aofil. How many times have I visited you? She also knows who I am because her son is in my class.”

They advance a couple of places in line. “Have never seen him in my building.”

“Was just as surprised as you were when I met her for the teacher parent talk. Her son lives with his father because of some medical thing I didn’t really catch up on.”

They arrive at place two in the queue. “You can always say that you know how to pick a lock, Tyl. That would also explain why my chocolate usually disappears and its wrapper ends up in the trash. On top of the trash as well, almost as if it’s to provoke me.”

Tylior turns to Aofil with a smile. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then I guess we live in a very small world.”

“When one of the royal heirs of the monsters come visit and asks for your name, then I’m surprised we even need airplanes to travel across this apparent pebble of a world.”

“Sorry, no tables left,” apologizes the waiter as Aofil and Tylior reaches the end of the line.

“Tylior and Sevoltne,” Tylior states, “we have a reservation,” and flashes his identification.

The waiter moves his eyes to Aofil. He hangs on them for a couple of seconds before deciding that it’s better not to ask. “Certainly, right this way.”

The angry muttering and seething looks of the people and monsters in the line crawl up Aofil’s back. They feel something tingle in their arm as well, so they take a pill, just to be safe.

Tylior and Aofil are seated at the edge of the waterway. A nice breeze flows from the water. Boats and monsters navigate carefully around each other on and inside the glittering water. It’s a nice view, even Aofil can admit that much.

“A tall glass of spirits with some monster dust sprinkled inside to start things off?” Tylior asks while browsing the menu.

Aofil can’t stifle their scoff. “That what you had during your young days on the countryside?”

Now it’s Tylior’s time to chuckle. “If there had been monsters at that time I would’ve probably.”

Aofil nods. “Hm. I think I’ll just have something light.”

“Two bottles of vodka then. No glasses.”

“Yeah,” Aofil lowers the menu, “sounds like a plan, actually. What with everything that has happened this week.”

“Sevoltne recommended a wine so I’m thinking I’ll order that for us.” Tylior closes his menu. “Sounds good?”

“A monster recommending a human drink. Why not? She and you are getting along pretty well.”

“Yup.”

Aofil closes the menu gently as well. “I’m sorry about what happened, Tyl.”

“It’s nice hearing that from you, Aofil. Believe me, it really is. I never thought that you really felt like that, but there was this nagging part at the back of my head that didn’t want to just go away. Hearing you say it has silenced it now, thanks. I also knew that you had a bit of an episode after that presentation. I could see it in your eyes,” Tylior waves his hand over his own eyes. “They became a bit red. Redder.”

A chill goes up Aofil’s spine, and they struggle to find a comfortable position, despite the lounge sofa they’re sitting in being one of the most comfortable seats they’ve ever had.

“All this time, until yesterday, actually, I thought it was just my imagination. Just my mind tricking me, but in a good way. Turns out it was actually real and my best friend’s eyes shift color when they’re angry.” Tylior ends his sentence by looking out over the water. His face is furrowed, contemplating. He knows, but he’s having difficulty accepting it. “Who knew?”

Tylior sighs with the wind. “I know that we humans used to know magic, what with us erecting that barrier and stuff, but I don’t think I know that we still have it. I know it, but I don’t know it inside me.” He turns to Aofil. “Am I making any form of sense?”

“Actually, you do. To me, at least. I went through it as well, but unlike you I was kinda,” Aofil interrupts themselves to let Tylior order the wine from the waitress. When she’s out of audible distance they finish their sentence, “forced.”

“How do you mean, exactly?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it exactly. Because I don’t think I know it exactly. There’s been so much stuff that’s happened to me, but that I’m not sure is even real.”

“Do you trust me enough for the short summary?”

Aofil sighs, “I guess I do,” and looks at their arm. “I know the monster royals, and their closest friends. I’ve lectured for Frisk, for Undyne, for Alphys as well.”

Tylior can’t really believe his ears. “The scientist?”

“She still is one?”

Tylior nods. “Yeah. Wow, you’ve really been hard at work sticking your fingers in your ears.”

“She was very hesitant before about continuing. I guess seeing real science changed her mind. Did you know that they called magic science? You should’ve seen her face when I told her what atoms were.”

Tylior struggles to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. “You’re not pulling my leg here, Aofil? Because seriously...”

Aofil scratches their head. “You asked for the truth, Tyl.”

“Yes, I know, but what you’re saying, it’s like,” Tylior stops as the bottle of wine is placed on the table He beckons for Aofil’s glass and fills it up, “it’s like you were best friends with them or something.”

Aofil swirls the wine in their glass before sampling it. It’s a good one. Fruity, yet with a vintage aftertaste. “Oh, and I’ve had Undyne and Alphys naked and showering together in my house as well.”

The loud choking from Tylior startles the nearby tables. A couple of heads turn, but only for a moment. The pillow next to Aofil is stained by the wine. Aofil turns it around before anyone else notices.

“Aofil,” Tylior manages to force out of him in between gasps of air. “Knock it out.”

“They used a lot of shampoo and body wash. Scales takes a bit more cream to get clean, or so they’ve told me,” Aofil finishes by taking another sip of wine.

They’re actually enjoying this.

“If you’re such good friends, then why did you leave?”

And right back down it goes.

Aofil’s smile disappears as quickly as it formed. “I brought Asriel back to life.”

Luckily Tylior wasn’t drinking, otherwise the wine would’ve leaked out of his jaw as it smashes the floor underneath him.

“And in doing so I learned too much about the monsters, and too much about myself,” Aofil continues. “I actually have an allergy to magic. My soul is broken, it can’t handle determination without leaking all inside me. Do you know what determination is?”

“I’ve heard the monsters talking about it. Like, our souls made manifest?”

“Kinda, I’m not so sure either. It tastes horrible though, that’s for certain. When I have it running through me, thoughts flood my mind, terrible thoughts. I get mad, my cheeks turn red, and my eyes as well. More redder. It’s a curse of mine, and because of it I can’t go back to them. It’s why I can’t be with you either, Tylior, not when you and Sevoltne are together.”

“Because her magic rubs off on me?”

Aofil nods. “Yes. Even now I can feel it tingling inside me from all the monsters around us. My anger medication helps, and I’m so thankful that it does. Otherwise,” Aofil sighs, “otherwise I would’ve been in the loony bin.”

With a conflicted hand scratching the back of his head, Tylior sinks down in the sofa he’s on. “Damn,” he says while exhaling a thoughtful sigh, “explains a lot.”

“Like why I refused to tell?”

“I guess? Kinda? I’m not fully convinced, to be honest. But you were honest with me, so I guess I can’t ask for more. I’d still like to know how you met them in the first place.”

“Screamed in fear and then hit my head on a rock.”

Tylior watches very carefully for any shift in Aofil’s face. For the smallest smirk to form after that ridiculous statement, but nothing happens. “Right then. Fair enough.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m sure plenty, but nothing right now,” Tylior scoffs silently. “I guess when I’m finished digesting this you’ll already be long gone.”

Aofil runs their finger around their glass. “Yeah, I guess too.”

“Nothing I can say that might change your mind?”

“Don’t think so. With monsters joining our school, it’s only a matter of time before my allergy overwhelms me. My pills only hide the anger, it doesn’t remove it.”

“Then I won’t bother.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you still going to that interview?”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, I am, tomorrow afternoon. Got the tickets on Friday. It’s at the monster city as well, so that’s gonna be fun to see, despite everything.”

“You sure?”

“About me feeling fine about it? No. But, you’re still my friend, and I still love my job, so I’m not gonna blow it just because I’m moving away, or because I might feel like shit afterwards. I’m comfortable enough to sacrifice a day or two of my life feeling like my soul is gonna explode.”

Tylior doesn’t join with Aofil’s worried chuckle.

“No really, I am,” Aofil states again, seriously, “seriously.”

“If you say so.”

Tylior raises his glass. “It’s been good, Aofil.”

Aofil meets Tylior’s with theirs, “Sure has, Tylior. I hate to have it end like this,” and moves the glass to their lips. “Heck, even for it to end.”

“Will you visit?”

“You’ve no clue how much I want for that to happen.”

“You’re a good person, Aofil. You’ll see this through. I’ll have a banana pie ready for you the next time we meet. I’ll make sure to swat Sevoltne away from it as well.”

Aofil looks out over the water again, and Tylior joins them. “I remember telling Undyne that despite everything that has happened, I was glad that they resurfaced.”

A boat stops for a small talk with a large fish monster.

“And you wish that you could still say the same?” Tylior asks after another sip of wine.

“I guess I do, Tyl.” Aofil nods to themselves. “I guess I do.”

“You ready to order?” asks a waiter patiently with a pen and notebook ready at hand.

Tylior looks at Aofil, who gives their blessing. “Yes, we are.”


	71. Away to home

A loud notification jolts Aofil awake from their daydreaming. They take out their phone and grumble at the warning plastered on the screen.

“Your monthly bandwidth has been used up. For more information, respond to this message.”

The music in their ears stutters and eventually fades. Why they didn’t lower the streaming quality before setting off, that Aofil can’t answer, but they can berate themselves for doing it. And that they do. They take out their headphones while blowing their lips.

How far along are they now? Aofil drags the curtain next to them aside and narrow their eyes at the midday sun surprising them. They wait for their eyes to adjust themselves before trying to get their bearings on where they are.

Green hills and fields of wheat is the only thing they see. Some houses here and there, along with a small town or so. Not much really that stands out or helps them, but it’s not hard on the eyes, so they can’t really complain. Could also be the reason they aren’t getting a connection for their music. Either way, the rest of the journey is gonna be boring.

“Wow!” comes a breathy whisper from the opposite side of the bus. Aofil turns their head, and then immediately turns it back. “Is that Mt. Ebott? Where the monsters came from?”

Aofil only caught a glimpse, but that was enough. It’s far away, really far away, but Aofil knows it like their back pocket. They’ve lived in its shadow for the majority of their life. Did the monsters build their town next to Mt. Ebott? On the other side of their own? Didn’t they want to leave the Underground behind? Didn’t they shut down the CORE? What else is there left in that area for them? The color on Aofil’s face drains, so much so that they become light headed.

Did the monsters find their summer home?

Oh no, what if that’s the reason? Asriel might’ve been able to let Chara go, but what about Toriel and Asgore? Is there another Above Lab? But why? Asgore has his son back, there’s no need for it to exist.

Unless…

If Asriel coming back to life was possible, what’s stopping Asgore from trying to bring back Chara? And that’s why Alphys still is the royal scientist! Dammit! And Asriel is probably in on it all. Everyone is! Even Frisk! Is that why this is all happening? Is the interview just a trap? Just a reason for Aofil to get close enough so that they can replace their soul with Chara’s? Frisk will be rid of them, and the Dreemurrs will be a complete family again. Aofil couldn’t replace Chara, so they’ll replace Aofil with Chara!

The bus makes a sharp turn, away from the mountain, and Aofil feels blood returning to their head. The rushing sound echoes in their ears, and a wave of sickness washes over them. Aofil looks at the reflection of their eyes in the screen of their phone.

A faint red. Their cheeks are a bit hot as well.

Must be all these monster sitting around them. Good thing Aofil brought with them their medicine. They take a pill, and swallow it down with some water they brought along for the ride.

They shouldn’t really let their mind wander like that, but without music or anything else to distract them…

And it’s only going to get worse once they’re completely surrounded once in the monster city. So much can go wrong. Aofil has to keep their head level throughout not only navigating through monsters, but also having an interview with one. If they’re lucky they can play it off like in their presentation, but even that gave them trouble.

The driver informs that up next is Aofil’s stop, where travelers to Monster City are transferring to another bus. Hopefully it too won’t be heading for Mt. Ebott. Even with the increasing distance, the looming presence still nags at the back of Aofil’s head.

They’re going away from it, but it still feels too close for comfort.

“For anyone transferring to the Monster City, you’ll be doing so from platform D,” the driver announces as the bus slows down at the stop. Aofil waits for the monsters to exit before following. They grab their bag and head for platform D.

The bus there is human made, but the paint and accessories on it can only be described as monster like. The name of it isn’t the biggest surprise either.

“Monster City Bus,” Aofil mouths silently, feeling every syllable roll off their tongue. They’re passed by a couple of monsters that pay no mind to the name.

“Excuse me,” one turns to forgive as it accidentally bumps Aofil’s shoulder. Aofil puts up a reassuring hand letting the monster know it’s fine.

They board the bus, and flash the ticket to the driver. She hangs on Aofil for just long enough for it to be awkward before she approves the ticket and smiles. Aofil turns some heads walking down the bus to their seat as they’re the only human on the bus. They sink down in their seat, which is adorned with various monster shapes.

They’re seated in the Undyne section, if the sign over them stating that this is the ‘Undyne Section’ is to be believed. Aofil leans out into the corridor. There’s a Mettaton and Papyrus section as well on this floor of the bus. Aofil wonders who’s on the upper floor, but not enough to go up and look. Instead, they lean back for a nap. A strange feeling washes over them though, and they open on eye slightly.

The monsters around them are looking right at them. Not many humans traveling to the Monster City? Strange.

“Human?”

Aofil opens their eye fully. “Hm?”

The monster opposite of them, a red one with a set of irregular teeth, points with a wing down towards Aofil's feet. “Your luggage.”

Aofil looks down at their backpack, with a large chunk of textile ripped out of it. A sandwich is missing as well. “Oh.”

They catch a glimpse of the monster that bumped them heading up the stairs at the front of the bus. Some ragged cloth and a packed sandwich is hanging on one of its spikes. They twist their lips, but again, it’s not enough to get them to risk seeing who’s upstairs.

It could be her. Aofil can hold themselves up to Sans, even Frisk, but not her. Or him, for that matter.

Aofil nods to the monster opposite them. “Must’ve ripped it.”

“I heard that there was a sale at the MTT Shop in the city, human. It’s just a couple of blocks away from the bus stop. You can’t miss it.”

“Screaming pink and neon?”

The monster is taken back a bit. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Then I know how it looks. Thanks.”

The monster’s lips stretch, and another set of even more irregular teeth is exposed. “No problem. If you don’t mind, may I ask what you’re doing in Monster City?”

“Actually,” Aofil runs their tongue over their lips, “I do.”

“Ah,” the monster bows its head. “Sorry then.”

“It’s okay.”

The monster returns to their business, and Aofil returns to theirs. They lean back, and as the bus starts and the gentle rocking of the suspension lulls them. Aofil falls asleep.

“Monster City. Final stop,” informs the driver through the speaker system. Aofil blinks awake as the rest of the monsters disembark. They stretch out the last of their sleep and pick up their bag. It gets stuck underneath their seat and the medium sized hole turns into a gaping one with a loud rip.

“Dammit,” Aofil sighs, picking up the papers and food that fell out of it. The entire side of their backpack is missing. Useless. Guess they have to make that extra stop at the shop.

First though, they have to find a toilet. “Excuse me?” they ask the driver. “Where can I find a toilet?”

The driver looks at Aofil perplexed. “Toilet?”

“Yeah, I need to use one,” Aofil explains in a hurry.

“Um,” the driver forces a smile. “In the nearest human apartment or workplace. Since the human population at the moment is so small there hasn’t been a priority to build any public ones. None that I'm aware of, that is.”

Aofil’s eyes widen. “Do you know where the nearest human is, then?”

“No idea, sorry.”

Aofil flies out of the bus with panic in their eyes, and everywhere else. They rush up to the ticket vendor. “Is there a human working here?”

“No, only monsters. But I will be happy to help...” the monster barely manages to finish their sentence before Aofil rushes away.

The city is beautiful, but Aofil doesn’t have the time or thought to take it all in. They need to get it all out first! They navigate through the crowd of monsters with their slashed backpack in their arms, but there’s no toilet, or human, anywhere. This backpack isn’t doing Aofil any favors either, they can’t move through the crowd with it in their arms, it’s too clunky.

“Yoho, darlings!” comes a voice. It’s distorted, like it’s originating from a cheap speaker. “I can see that you’re not MTT branded fabulous, like me. Why not fix that huge personality flaw by shopping here, at MTT Outlet!”

There, the MTT store! At least they can fix one of their problems.

“Welcome, darling,” comes the same voice, but from another cheap speaker inside the doors of the store. The tone is patronizing, but that’s to be expected.

“Oh, wow. Another human? Nice to see a new skinny face,” greets an employee unboxing some wares two aisles next to Aofil. “Hey, Multa, there’s another human here!”

Aofil’s ears perk. Another?

“Oh, nice! How’s it going?” nods a girl from a bit further into the store. She waves with a smile.

“Toilet!?”

Aofil’s aware of the bluntness of the question, but right now they’re too desperate to be embarrassed.

The girl beckons for Aofil. “This way.”

She navigates swiftly through the customers and unlocks a door behind some shelves. Aofil thanks her, and proceeds to be relieved over the sweet relief of relieving themselves.

With a weight literally expelled from them Aofil finds the girl again. “Thanks.”

“All good?”

“Yeah,” Aofil recoils a bit from the bluntness thrown back at them, “sure. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that not many humans come through here?”

The girl’s cheeks blossom, but unlike Aofil, hers is from embarrassment. “That obvious? You’d be amazed how much you miss stuff you took for granted.”

“I mean,” Aofil tries to hide their emerging smile behind their hand, “I’m pretty amazed that you asked me how my visit to the toilet was.”

The girl shrugs. “When you’re surrounded by creatures that don’t have to use it.”

Aofil nods, still with a smile on their lips. “Fair enough. How is it living with monsters all around you?”

Multa turns her head to the other monster customers in the store. “I’d love to tell you all about it.”

Aofil shows her their backpack. “I need a new one, you can tell me while I’m browsing.”

The girl again beckons for Aofil. “This way, then. They’re on the other side of the store.”

“How convenient.”

The girl chuckles at Aofil’s eyebrow waggles. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, living with monsters?”

“It’s actually not so bad. I have some great colleagues.”

“We know,” comments one without turning their head.

“There are some more humans already living here. Some are helping with construction, others are here for other types of work, and others wanted to start a new life.”

Aofil doesn’t pry which one the girl is, no real reason for it. “So do you like, greet them in the streets?”

“It was common before, but now when you’ve had time to settle in. You rarely tilt your head at them now. It’s just a part of your life now. Same thing with the monsters. When I see stuff hovering, being conjured, and heck, even exploding, I don’t get startled. It’s there, and it’s weird, but it’s normal to me.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

“Man, I was really frightened the first time I got here. It’s like moving to a new city, times a thousand. I had to tell beforehand that I was a human and that I needed plumbing. It delayed my move by a couple of weeks, and my friends still ask to use it when they’re visiting.”

“None of the monsters in my city do that, though perhaps.”

“Yeah,” the girl continues, “they have it by default. Then it became normal for them as well, I guess. What are they using it for? I’ve always wondered.”

“Oh,” Aofil flusters out an answer. “I’ve not really asked, I still take it for granted, so I’ve not bothered to ask.”

The girl lips turn into a frown for just a second. “Hm. Oh well, guess I’ll ask the next one.”

“About magic, you don’t feel influenced by it?”

Multa thinks for a number of seconds before tapping her finger on her cheek. “Influenced how?”

“Like, messing with your emotions?”

“I don’t really know? I can definitely feel it around me, and sometimes inside me.”

A monster colleague of Multa nudges her side with one of their claws while winking. She swats it away and smacks them with a flip flop donned with Mettaton’s smiling face.

“But I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it affects me. Human souls are much stronger than monster soul, so. Anyways,” Multa points to a rack stocked with backpacks, “pick whichever you like.”

“Just, one more question. It’s kinda personal as well. What,” Aofil take a deep breath, “what did you think about the decision made at the trial?”

Multa moves Aofil into the racks, obscuring them from the others. “I agreed with it. A hundred percent. What they did, they murdered kids!” She growls with a whisper. “But, doing horrible stuff is what we humans do on a regular basis. I was given a second chance, so why shouldn’t I give the monsters one? I’ve lived with them for years now, and sometimes they’re more human than both you and me.”

“What if someone you loved was killed by them?” Aofil asks. They hear the pleading in their voice, and they fear that they might’ve overstepped it.

Multa debates with herself before sighing in defeat. “The opposite almost happened for me. You know the riots that followed the trial?”

Aofil nods.

“I was there, I was in the thick of it. We offered to be fair with the monsters, yet they made these outlandish demands, right? Or so, that’s what I thought of it at the beginning. I was moved here for community service, and once my time was up, I found myself wanting to stay. It’s pretty funny, actually. I did everything to push them away, but once I stopped to listen, I found out that they were good. They’re not angels or anything, like I said, they’re just as flawed as us, but we’re on equal footing. We make mistakes, they make mistakes.”

Aofil can’t even muster a nod.

“What I’m trying to say is that maybe magic and science one day will mean the same thing? Maybe one day we’ll be like we were before the Barrier. I don’t know what happened to you, but maybe if you heard their side of the story you’d find something? What’s there to lose?”

“My other arm.”

Multa doesn’t have time to ask Aofil to elaborate before they grab a backpack and slam the money down on the counter.

“Hold on! Let me ring it up before you...” the cashier yells as Aofil heads for the doors.

“Oh, deary me!” shrieks the speakers as a shimmering wall is erected before Aofil. “What do we have here? A thief?”

The field comes down as quickly as it emerged, and the cashier tells Aofil that it’s fine to leave now. Aofil fails to thank them as they blend back into the crowd.

Why do they insist on gambling on other people understanding their situation? Why are they still naive about it? Aofil’s the only one in the world, the only one ever, to have a situation as ridiculous, yet dangerous, as theirs. Of course they’ve thought about asking the monsters! Of course they’ve tried to stop and listen! They want to, but they can’t. They are physically unable to!

This interview they’re heading to, it’s just a waste of time. Another of Aofil’s attempts to bend reality their way. Another attempt to deny that they’re cursed. If they’re so set on leaving Tylior and the others behind, why aren’t they doing it? Why are they so afraid of people not saluting them as a hero? Why are they not just cutting their losses, again? Why aren’t they leaving behind what they promise themselves to leave behind?

They’re just doing the same thing they did with the monsters! It’s a damn circle that they insist on rounding again and again.

Taking the weight even though they know it’ll hurt them. Not asking for help, because no one can help them. They’re alone in this, yet they’re doing it for others. If only they could have someone that could help them.

But doing so would mean reliving what they cast away.

Is it worth it?

Aofil doesn’t know.

A brick building stands at the end of a raked path. Beautifully trimmed bushes and hedges stand on either side. Aofil recognizes the skillful work.

A large sign above the entrance informs the name with a gorgeous font.

‘Above School’

Aofil opens the double door.

“Oh, you must be today’s human teacher,” smiles the receptionist. “Two doors down that hall to your left,” he points with a tentacle.

Aofil makes their way down the corridor, deep in thought. What should they do? Are they gonna fail the interview? That way they can actually leave things behind them for once. They made a promise though, but again, it seems that it will kill them in keeping it. Maybe not now, but later, when they can’t stand their own thoughts any longer.

Aofil sinks down heavily into a chair inside the room the receptionist pointed out. They sit alone with their thoughts for a solid minute before they hear the door open behind them.

“Forgive me, human, if you had to wait.”

Aofil shakes their head. “No problem, I didn’t have to wait long,” and turns to meet their interviewer.

No…

“Your interviewer called in sick just a couple of minutes ago. I just got word about it, and hurried here.”

It can’t be…

“So, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” a gentle claw opens the dossier, “Aofi-”

A thick blanket falls over the small room, suffocating any sound produced. A quivering muzzle is lifted, and even more quivering eyes meet Aofil’s. A pair of spectacles is lifted away, as a disbelieving sniffle breaks the silence. The chair complains as the weight is lifted off it, and the purple robe drags on the table as it rounds it.

A soft blend of fur and skin cups Aofil’s chin with the utmost care. Aofil wants to turn away.

But feeling the warmth caressing their cheek...

Maybe it’s time they face their problems. Maybe it’s time they explain it. Maybe it’s time for Aofil to ask for help, to not bear the weight alone any longer. It’s time for them to stop running. Despite them sprinting in the marathon of life, their past has caught up with them. It’s asking Aofil to come home. To come home to their family. They might not be able to replace, they know they can’t.

Aofil feels the eyes plead to them. Plead for them not to give in to their curse. They can’t do it alone, but they don’t have to. They need a family to help them.

And that is the family they want to be for Aofil. Why didn’t Aofil see that?

But is it worth it?

Aofil doesn’t know.

Is Aofil ready?

They’ll never be.

The fur on Aofil’s arm is tingling, but Aofil allows the gentle hand to stroke their chin. They allow the tears to fall and stain their lap, and they allow the white ears to flop against them as they’re embraced.

And then, the tingling stops. Gone like the wind. The worries, the anger, the fear. Maybe only for a second, but to Aofil, it’s an eternity.

“Hello, Toriel.”


	72. A principal's principles

“So,” Toriel closes the door behind Aofil, “this is your office, Toriel?”

“I insisted on it being the same size as the others, but since I’m the headmaster it needed to be bigger for logistical and ceremonial reasons.”

Aofil takes the seat Toriel offers. “Ceremonial?”

Toriel sits down on hers, but it doesn’t complain. “I was quick to call out Asgore on his language, but he promised me that it was necessary. I’m still hesitant towards the reasons he brought up, but I can’t admit that I don’t like it a bit more roomy.”

"Oh, just look at me," Toriel laughs while realizing that her eyes are still wet. "I've gone and stained not only my dress, but your shirt as well, human. What a silly mess I am." She hangs her eyes on Aofil, and her eyes are immediately filled with water again. "Oh my,” she laughs again, “you’re a bit more distorted than before,” and moves her finger up to her eyes again, “or am I crying again?”

“It’s been a while, Toriel,” Aofil admits with a lowered head.

“Very much so, human,” Toriel scoffs. Tears land on her desk. “Just listen to me, I’m still calling you human, and not your name. Guess I haven’t shaken that off yet.”

“How do you feel seeing me, Toriel?”

“What do you mean by that? I’m overjoyed, nothing less. Why would you ask such a question? You know I would never think less of you. Despite what happened. Never, my human.”

Aofil still has to pry, they must know. “You don’t feel like your mind is hurting? You still call me human.” Aofil’s worried. Wait, they’re worried?

Toriel curses herself under her breath. “Forgive me, Aofil. I want to say that it’s just a slip of my tongue, but it would be unfair to you to lie like that. You’re my human, Aofil. You're our human, along with Frisk. Frisk saved us from the Underground, and you welcomed us to the Surface. There hasn’t been anyone else these past years that have come close to you. I’ve met so many wonderful humans, but no one like you. No one has touched my soul quite like you did, Aofil. No one has done the things you’ve done for us. You’re our human, Aofil, but calling you that isn’t healthy. We live together now, and such language is something that we should’ve left in the Underground. I hope you can have patience with this old goat, Aofil. I promise you that I’ll make an honest effort in calling you by your name from now on.”

Aofil nods in thanks, but something else is on their mind. Something that Toriel appeared to just say in passing, but to Aofil it’s a wall of a word. “So you’re a goat now? Not a monster?”

Toriel smiles a proud smile. “The first step is to accept it, right? And lead by example? If I correct people and tell them that I am a monster, then I would be dismissing what I’m trying to make the norm. It's my way of easing the tensions between us, and I'm making it a rule of mine to not address someone as human. I have to be a goat, so that one day monsters and humans may be equal. So that we don’t have to refer to us as species, but rather a united people. True, the words will never disappear, but I can take the edge off them. If I have to be called a goat for it to happen, then I'll gladly do it. I couldn't in the Underground, but times have changed.”

“So you’re comfortable with being a goat?”

“Truth be told,” Toriel’s shoulders sink as she heaves a tired sigh, “no. Maybe one day I can visit the zoo again, but not in the foreseeable future.”

She has to be poking Aofil’s curiosity willingly, she just has to. “The zoo?”

Toriel rubs her forehead. “Asgore’s idea. He wanted to show the little ones the animals that inhabit the Surface, for them to learn more about them. I saw through his lie though, he wanted to go there himself. He has this smile when he’s embarrassingly excited over something. The fact that he isn’t embarrassed over it now makes it worse. He should be embarrassed, but he isn’t. He was more childish than the kids once we arrived. When we got to the petting zoo...”

Toriel shakes her head and heaves another deep and annoyed sigh, “He,” and moves her hand from her forehead to over her mouth. It doesn’t cover her growing smile though, “he just stopped and stared at them, and them at him. The king of the monsters, mesmerized by a herd of goats.”

“Did he find his true people?”

Toriel quells a laugh. “Don’t say those things, Aofil. Now I’m questioning it.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’d rather laugh than contemplate over it. Anyways, after realizing that he wouldn’t realize, I walked up to him and dragged him back by the horns. He bleated, and his people bleated in return.”

Aofil tries their hardest to keep a straight face. “Really?”

“Why did I ever marry that fool?” Toriel wonders out loud.

“Has he done something like that before?”

“Only once, long ago, when we were still in the Underground. We were on a picnic with Char...” Toriel’s mouth shuts close, but it’s too late. They both know who she means.

“Yeah...” is the only thing Aofil can say. “You probably were...”

Toriel reaches out for Aofil’s hand and lays hers over theirs. “I never had time to ask for your forgiveness, Aofil. About Chara. Asgore and me, we had our suspicions about your relationship with them. Mostly about your cheeks.” Toriel’s own stretch into a warm and nostalgic smile. She blinks away a couple of new tears before nodding. “You and Chara have the same ones, Aofil. Your human parents must’ve been very fond of them. Did they have those as well?”

Aofil drags their hand out from underneath Toriel’s. “No, they weren’t, not when Chara was still with us. Chara and I,” Aofil takes a deep breath, “we’re cursed.”

Toriel nods slowly. “I know.”

Her eyes show no signs of lying, only understanding. Aofil struggles to form words. “H-how?”

“When you left us,” Toriel struggles to form her words as well, “and as Frisk was explaining to us why, we were approached by the caretaker of the cemetery. He expressed interest over why monsters were among his flock. No anger, just curiosity. When he saw which grave we were in front of though, his tone shifted. Again, not to anger, but of grief, and remorse. He watched the smoke trails of the car you left in dissipate, and then he invited us in for tea.”

Aofil knew that they would find out given enough time, that one day they would know about Chara, Aofil, and their family. Still, Aofil feels like they’ve failed somehow, but they don’t know in which way. Despite it feeling like a stone to ask, Aofil feels like they have to. “Did he?”

Toriel nods again. “Yes, he told us about your family, about you and Chara. About your curse. In a sense, I was relieved to know why Chara behaved the way they did. All this time I thought it was something Asgore or I did, something we didn’t understand we were doing wrong. We did our best in raising them, making them family, and showing them that they indeed were the hope of the Underground. Yet, I could tell that there was something underneath, something that they were hiding from us, something that, despite me promising Chara that they could share anything that burdened their soul.” Toriel stops to put a worried fist up to her muzzle. “Saying it out loud now, I now know why they didn’t answer me. I couldn’t have chosen worse words to say.”

Toriel steadies her voice with a deep breath. “There was always something distant in Chara, but there was so much more love too. They were the hope of the Underground, they were family to us. We loved Chara, with all of our souls, but it was impossible for them to love us back equally. They did their best, they did their very best. Looking back, I feel a bit disgusted feeling relief over knowing that it wasn’t our fault. Asgore as well. When we heard the pastor explain the curse, Asgore and I, we shared a look, and a smile, but as the pastor continued, our smiles melted away.”

Aofil braces themselves, but they know it won’t help. Toriel does so as well.

“About what happened that day which I want to forget, but know that I can’t. When our children died.”

Here it comes.

“And when you died, Aofil.”

Here it comes…

“I...” Aofil’s throat clogs up. There isn’t a single piece of them that want to talk about it.

Toriel makes her way around the desk. She knows what’s coming. She puts her hand on their cheek before they have time to fall into the memory. Aofil grabs hold of her purple dress, and pulls it closer to them. They need something to hold on to, they need to stay in the now, they can’t fall back. The pain, the fear. Aofil knows it, from both sides. They know their own fear, and Chara’s fear. One is enough to be thrown into despair, but both?

Aofil hardens their grip, but Toriel allows them. “Whenever you’re ready,” she calms with a gentle thumb, brushing away Aofil’s hair from their eyes.

A minute or two passes before Aofil feels steady enough to continue on their own. They’re still teetering on the edge, but they know that Toriel’s there to catch them if they fall. Aofil takes a deep breath. “Continue.”

“For as much as he wanted to, the pastor couldn’t forgive us for that which we had done, or the other kids that were killed. We told him that neither could we, and he thanked us for that. In time, he could perhaps be able to forgive us, but never our actions. Aofil,” Toriel tilts Aofil’s head to meet hers, “could you?”

“Toriel,” they cry.

“You don’t have to, Aofil. It’s not fair of me to ask you to either.”

“I want to.”

Toriel embraces Aofil, and presses her cheek against Aofil’s back. “Thank you,” she whispers with a quivering voice. “Thank you.”

“I want to so much.”

“That is so much more than you have to,” she whispers again as she returns to her seat. “The pastor then apologized for making demands, but he had to insist that we should tell the truth about the kids that fell. About what happened to them. What we did to them. Asgore, there was something about him that made the pastor stop speaking. Then, with only a look, he convinced the pastor that he would. I couldn’t see it through his hanging hair, but the pastor nodded with immense relief. I asked Asgore later what he did, but Asgore just smiled and told me that he did what a king should do. I didn’t agree with him not telling me, but at the trial, it all made sense.”

With their shirt arm Aofil dries of as much moisture as they can from their face. “How was it? What happened?”

“He took all the blame.” Toriel clenches her fist. Aofil can tell that she’s holding in a lot of anger. “Granted, as he should. What he did, what he almost did to Frisk. What I almost did to Frisk. The Underground was our prison, and we were desperate. There was another way, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how, but there had to be a way for us to escape without the heinous acts we did! Why did I leave him alone to do these things? What kind of queen was I? I could’ve helped, yet I abandoned the human kids to their death!”

Aofil opens up the top button of their shirt as they feel the air around them heat up. They reach their head over the desk to meet with Toriel. Her eyes are burning, and almost in the literal sense as well. “Toriel!” they shout to try and snap her back. “It’s in the past. You’re free now, you’re on the Surface. I’m here, your human is here.”

Toriel’s clenching fists relaxes, and she moves them up to her face. She runs her hands over her rapidly breathing muzzle. “Thank you, Aofil.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve done more than enough to make up for what you did, Toriel. You’re a headmaster on a school on the Surface. You’re interviewing humans to teach monster children. You’ve come so far, Toriel. Don’t fall back. Don’t return.”

The last words echo inside Aofil’s head. “Don’t return,” they whisper to themselves. Aofil puts their hand on their fur covered arm. The fur is tense, probably from Toriel’s aura. Should Aofil take a pill? Or will that be too suspicious?

“Do you have a bathroom nearby, Toriel? I heard there aren’t many here in the Monster City.”

Toriel picks up her glasses and composes herself. “Certainly, Aofil. I plan to have humans working here, don’t I?”

Her chuckle isn’t as joyful as she wanted it to be, but Aofil pretends they didn’t notice. “Where?”

“A bit further down the corridors. Would you like for me to fetch some tea for you when you return? Maybe a slice of pie?”

“Water, please,” Aofil asks with a smile as they open the door. Toriel’s smile is again not as sincere as she would’ve wanted it to be, but Aofil again pretends it is.

A inconspicuous glowing sign with the text ‘Human Toilets’ hangs over a door. Aofil takes a wild guess and enters it, only to find that they were completely right in their gamble. They rinse their face to alleviate some stress, and the heavy exhale they shed afterwards proves that it was a very good idea.

The pop of their bottle bounces around the room, but there’s no one else in it so Aofil isn’t too worried. They swallow one along with some water.

Three hard knocks on the door has Aofil choking on the water they just swallowed.

“Um, excuse me? How long until your interview is finished?”

Aofil doesn’t recognize the voice.

“I don’t,” they cough loudly, “know.”

“Sorry for bothering you.”

When Aofil manages to suppress their coughing and opens the door, the knocker isn’t there. The corridor is empty. After all these years on the Surface, have they still not learned that humans like to have some privacy from time to time?

Nothing has changed, even after all these years.

Aofil returns to an empty office. It takes a couple of minutes, but Toriel finally comes back with a tray. A jug of water along with some glasses are on it, and she pours one for Aofil who takes a mouthful to remove the last of their cough. Why she didn’t use the water cooler in the corner of her office is a bit suspicious though.

“I want you to come work here, Aofil,” she firmly states.

Why can’t she wait until Aofil’s done with their drinking before interrupting? Toriel stretches out a hand, but Aofil motions for her to sit back down. “Just give me a second.”

“And I’m going to insist on you accepting.”

Aofil fakes a few more coughs as they work their brain to try and figure something out. Toriel isn’t buying it though.

“We will arrange living for you close by, and for transport of your belongings here.”

“Toriel.”

“No!” Her eyes are watering up again, but her face is stern, commanding, yet still sorrowful. “I am not going to let you continue down this path, Aofil. Your place is here, with your friends. With your family. We want to help. Let us. Please.”

Aofil digs in their heels. “And what about the friends and family I have at the moment?”

“I know that you’re planning on leaving them.”

“How?” the question is vicious like poison.

“Sans and Frisk told me.”

They did? Did they tell her about Aofil’s arm as well? She’s not looking at it, so perhaps not. Still, is that why she took so long? Dammit, this wasn’t what Aofil had in mind. “What did they tell you?”

“That you’re hurting, and that you can’t ask for help.”

“And my allergy to magic?”

“Alphys can help you with that,” Toriel replies without missing a beat.

“And what about the things she can’t help me with?”

“We have human doctors here.”

Aofil runs a hand through their hair with an accompanying and irritated exhale. “Toriel, with all due respect, no. I can’t work with you.”

“This isn’t the human that welcomed us into their home, Aofil. This isn’t the human that did their all in teaching this new world for the little ones, and the human that enjoyed every second of it.”

“That was before,” Aofil feels a strong need to remind.

“Then come back to before, Aofil.”

“I can’t ask for you help.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong. That’s why you’re feeling the way you do. You have to put trust in your friends and family. We’re here for you, never forget that...”

Aofil averts their eyes.

“Chara,” Toriel finishes. Her hand shoots up to her mouth again, but again, it’s too late.

Aofil scoffs tiredly. “I sure am their twin, aren’t I?”

“Aofil, forgive me. I didn’t mean...” She can’t finish her lie, Aofil hears it. They both sit in silence while they contemplate what the other said.

Eventually Aofil sighs, and returns their eyes to Toriel’s. She struggles to keep hers still. “Do I have to?”

Toriel nods. “You have to. For your own sake.”

“And that’s the only sake?”

Toriel looks down, and her ears flop down on the desk. “No, not even close.”

Aofil looks at their arm, and recalls that Toriel hasn’t done it once. Maybe there is a chance? Alphys made them like this, perhaps she can undo it as well? What about the others? What about the memories that are sure to flood back? They need advice.

Aofil has to return to their family, before they can return to their family.

“Toriel.”

She nods. “Yes?”

“Can you get me to Mt. Ebott? Please don’t ask me why.”

“Will you return here afterwards?”

“That’s why I need to figure out. Mom studied law, she could help me smooth things over.”

“Your mom?”

“I said ‘please’, Toriel.”

She retracts her hand, and puts it over her chest. “Forgive me. Yes, I’ll arrange for someone to drive you there.”

“Papyrus?”

Toriel’s stunned silence confirms Aofil’s suspicion.

“Sounds good, actually,” they smile. “I could use his optimism right about now.”

Toriel picks up her phone, and dials the number. “Then I’ll be pleased to inform you that he’s still the same Papyrus since the last you saw him.”

“Glad to hear that.”

After a short phone call Toriel stands up and motions for the door. “Papyrus is busy this evening, unfortunately. I’ll call a taxi for you at the front desk, and wait with you until it arrive.”

Aofil follows her to the door. “Thank you.”

“And if it isn’t too much to ask, could I invite you over for dinner later today?” Toriel opens the door and holds it for Aofil. “If you decide to stay, that is?”

It’s been a while since Aofil’s felt this warmth inside them, but they welcome it with open arms. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Mom!”

It’s that voice again.

“Oh, Asriel,” Toriel answers.

Asriel?

“I just wanted to say that I’m probably gonna be late for dinner today. Fuku and her friend need a cameraman. It’s been a while since I’ve filmed something so I thought...”

Aofil’s eyes widen as much as Asriel’s when the two of them meet. Asriel’s thumb falls down from over his shoulder, and is left hanging in stunned disbelief.

A smirk grows on Toriel’s lips. “I’m afraid you’ll have to decline that, Asriel. Aofil needs someone to drive them to Mt. Ebott, and you need some more experience for your license test later this month.”

She fishes up a pair of keys from her handbag. “I’ll pick it up from the parking. You two wait at the front.”

Suppressed giggling can be heard from Toriel as she makes her way down the corridor.


	73. A new road to an old home

"I've driven there a thousand times, mom!"

"No, you’ve not, my dear. There's also construction on our usual road, Asriel. You'll have to take an earlier left to drive around it."

Aofil sits down in the passenger seat while Asriel readjusts the driver's seat, and the rear view mirror. He wipes away some fluff above his eyebrow and starts the car.

"Be home by dinner," Toriel reminds as she waves the two off in her car. Aofil catches a relieved smile on her as Asriel turns out on the street.

"Indicators, Asriel," Aofil comments.

"Come on," he sighs. "There isn't a car in sight."

"It's to make sure it's in your muscle memory at the test. Trust me on that. You miss it once and you fail."

Asriel opens the sunroof to let some of the sweet evening air in, “Yeah, yeah,” but by doing so, he fails to see the warning sign about construction in the middle of the road.

Aofil elbows his side. “Asriel!”

The car comes to screeching halt just barely in front of the sign. Asriel eases the car to the sidewalk, and Aofil sees his stone grip on the steering wheel. His breathing is sharp, Aofil must’ve startled him. “Close one. You gotta be careful, Asriel. Toriel said that there was construction here as well.”

“Just,” Asriel calms his breathing, “give me a minute. Did mom see?”

Aofil is a bit taken back by the question. “I’m not sure.”

“Just look!” Asriel swirls his head towards Aofil. His ear flop against his panicked face. “Please!”

Aofil tries to calm with a subtle wave of their hand. “Sure, I’m looking.” They lean over their seat, but all they see is road and buildings. No momma goat. “She didn’t see,” Aofil relays as they return their eyes to Asriel. “Hopefully she didn’t hear either.”

“Yeah,” Asriel starts the engine again, “that would’ve been bad.”

“Why would she follow you? She worried a lot about you?” Aofil decides to pry.

Asriel doesn’t answer since he’s too busy trying to calm himself. Aofil again checks over their shoulder, but there’s still no Toriel rushing towards the car.

“Listen, Asriel. Mistakes happen, and yes, this was a scary one, but if you learn from it, then it’ll be something positive in the end.”

"You have a license?" Asriel asks after some sharp breathing.

"Yes, but I haven't driven in ages. Last time was when I was out with my famil…" Aofil halts their tongue by biting on it. “Make a three point turn and then take the left that Toriel said you would. It’s a right now, by the way.”

“I know,” the car starts moving again. “I’m not stupid.”

Construction is well under way, that’s for sure. The main street that Aofil walked on earlier is complete, but the further away from it the less complete the area is. Humans and monsters are working together, using both machine and magic. Explains why they’ve come so far in so little time. It looks nice, hopefully Aofil can join with them sometime. If they can, is what they have to answer first. The interview is still in progress even though Aofil landed the job. They’ve convinced their employer to hire them, now they only have to convince themselves. That’s probably gonna be harder.

“So,” Aofil begins as the car ventures past the construction. Now Asriel can actually hear what Aofil want to say. What do they want to say though? No idea, really. “So,” they wonder, “how have you’ve been?”

Asriel shrugs his shoulders, and again misses to indicate. “I don’t know. Good? I don’t really know how to answer, to be honest. I’m alive, I guess.”

Aofil nods. “You’re alive.”

“So you know, I got that going for me.”

“Should keep on doing that. I heard it’s good for you.”

Asriel smacks his lips. “Yup.”

“You still filming stuff, by the way?”

Asriel wants to turn his head towards Aofil, but his eyes are glued to the road. “What do you mean by ‘still’?”

“Just slipped out,” Aofil deflects with a shrug of their own.

“Yeah, I like to film stuff. I’m pretty good with editing as well, I think. Did a skateboard video with Fuku and her friend. It was fun, but there wasn’t really much I could do with the angles. She’s good, but not great. I think once she gets more comfortable I can get more creative with my shots.”

“Sounds fun,” Aofil nods. “My brother tried to teach me some tricks, but it didn’t really work with me. Other things you like to do?”

“Aofil, what is it you really want to ask me?”

He’s got Aofil on that one. Better to just lay the cards on the table. “How is it being alive?”

“It’s been normal for a while,” Asriel sighs. “Until you asked.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s just, I don’t want to talk about what happened. I want to forget about,” Asriel’s grip hardens on the steering wheel, squeezing the leather, “him.”

“Him that you were?”

Asriel nods without opening his mouth. He’s too busy biting his tongue so that he doesn’t scream.

“But you’re you? You’re not him?”

“No.” Asriel hangs on the word, drags it out. It’s bitter, and angry. Like an old infected wound, and Aofil just dumped a handful of salt into it. “I’m, Not. Him.”

“You’re Asriel, prince of the monsters.”

He nods.

“Living on the surface with the humans. What you set out to do with...”

“Stop!” Asriel growls. “Not their name. It’s difficult enough looking at you without having my memories flood back.”

“Could say the same to you, Asriel.”

“Yeah,” Asriel takes one hand off the wheel and leans on it. “I guess you can,” he agrees with a heavy heave of his shoulders.

The city gives way to an empty, yet recently paved, road. Just a few cars, and the majority are heading for the city. Aofil decides not to debate Asriel on his choice of hands on the steering wheel. Seems empty enough, and Asriel isn’t on the weaker side of creatures. Quite the opposite. Aofil can tell that he’s going to take after Asgore.

“Who are you, Aofil?” Asriel decides to ask after a couple of minutes of silent driving. “They all speak of you as if you were a savior. I mean, yes, you did bring me back. And I guess I didn’t thank you for it.”

“Say nothing of it.”

“I’d rather not to, so thanks.”

Aofil is suddenly aware of the fur on their arm. “Same here.”

“But, what they say about you is just so, Frisk.”

Aofil furrows their brow. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“I know, but...”

“You still have something deep down that still resents me? Is that it?”

“No.”

Aofil can tell that Asriel is lying. “Something deep down that resents Frisk?” Aofil tries again.

“No,” Asriel shakes his head tiredly. “Yes. I love them with all of my soul. They’re my sibling, and more so than...”

The steering wheel has its leather squeezed again.

“But, I also know what they’ve done before. Frisk did what I did. They...”

Aofil sees Asriel’s muzzle retract in anger, but before they can make an attempt to calm, Asriel makes a sharp turn into an empty truck stop. He unbuckles his belt and storms out of the car, leaving the key inside.

The seat belt alarm warns with a soft and repeating plinging before Aofil removes the key. They follow Asriel, but keeps their distance as he makes his way down to a nearby lake. He stands on the edge, and picks up a stone.

He bounces it in his hand before lunging it over the water. It reaches way further than Aofil would’ve imagined. Asriel picks up a bigger one, and again throws it with all his might. It makes a larger splash as it lands, and the drops glitter in the setting sun before rejoining the disturbed water. Asriel sits down with a third stone in his hand. This one he isn’t throwing though, this one he’s clenching.

The ripples from the latest impact hit the shoreline after some time, and Asriel flicks the last stone into the water. It lands with a plop, and the new ripples collide with the old ones. The old are more powerful though, and wash up against the shore despite the new ones fighting against them.

Asriel looks out over the blue and orange water in front of him. “How old do you think I am, Aofil?”

“About the same age as Frisk?” Aofil answers while still keeping their distance. Asriel needs the space, and Aofil would rather not that their fur reacts to Asriel’s anger.

“My body is, that I’m sure of. Not a damn clue how, I’m just sure of it. But me? I don’t know. I should be just another teenager. I should be worrying about friends, about being cool. The fact that I’m analyzing this is just proof that I’m not, in fact, a teenager. I’ve seen so many things, I’ve done so many things. I learned everything there was about the Underground, both good and bad. I don’t remember it all, but I remember learning it. So when the subject is brought up in school, I just sigh at it.”

Aofil lifts up a hand from their crossed arm. “Out of the blue it just sounds like normal teenage stuff to me.”

Asriel nods as he lowers his head. “Yeah...”

“But I know that your sky is clouded, very clouded.”

“Damn thunderstorm.”

“I’d say hurricane. You’ve been through much, Asriel.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You live with people you’ve killed.”

“I just told you.”

“I’m talking to you as an equal on that part," Aofil makes very clear with. "Same with Frisk. I’m having trouble looking at them myself.”

“Difference being that you two also saved the monsters. Whereas I...”

“I saved them with your help,” Aofil adds. “And so did Frisk.”

“I wasn’t thrilled about it afterwards.”

“Neither was I,” Aofil intercepts with a sigh.

“And I only did it because of Frisk.” Asriel runs his hands over his face, “It’s just,” and then drags the same tired hands over his head, “it’s like everyone was disappointed, you know? I came back, and nothing magical happened, you know?”

Aofil furrows their brow. “They weren’t happy to see you?”

“Yes, they were. Mom, dad, it was so good to finally feel loved again, and to love in return, but I just feel like they expected more.”

“I’m not sure that either Toriel or Asgore could expect more than having their dead son back.”

“Yes! But I felt like they felt that it could’ve been more.”

Aofil summons a calming smile, “I think you’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” but it doesn’t help.

“But I’m back! I was the hope of the Underground, and I’m back! I was supposed to be the new chapter, but it started without me. It’s like I’m a footnote. Now that I’m here, I haven’t done anything close to what you and Frisk have.”

“Do you have to?”

Asriel bursts up on his feet, “I’m the reason everything happened!” and throws his arm out towards the glistening lake. “I’m the reason we monsters have this!” His quick breathing slows down, and his arm drops down to his side. “I’m the reason that the trial happened. The riots. I’m the reason the kids were killed…” Asriel knees weaken, and he sits down, hard. Aofil wonders if it hurt, but Asriel isn’t showing any pain. Not physical, that is. “How am I supposed to make up for so many deaths? Seeing the parents of the kids. Seeing their eyes inspect every piece of me. It was because of me that their child had to die. And I’m just...”

“A normal monster teenager,” Aofil interrupts.

Asriel scoffs, “As if. I wish it was,” and curls his legs up while putting his arms over them. “Sometimes I wish that the Barrier would’ve been unbreakable. At least then no one had to die for me. I would still have Char-” Asriel moves his eyes towards Aofil. He hangs on them, their hair, their cheeks, their eyes. “You sure do look like them,” he says with a worried sigh. Asriel lays his muzzle on his knees, looking over the burning orange water. It reflects in his eyes.

The same as Toriel’s.

Aofil sighs as well. “So I’ve heard.”

“Could you do me a favor, Aofil?”

“Sure thing.”

“Could you just,” Asriel stops to think, like he’s debating if it’s a good idea or not, “bend your chin down, and smile?”

Aofil instead hardens their gaze. “Asriel,” they remind sternly, “I’m not Chara.”

Asriel scoffs again. “Was a very different tone when you first tried to convince me.”

“Because how otherwise would I have convinced Flowey?”

Asriel’s arms tightens around his knees. “And the extractor.”

“That was Sans’ idea.”

Asriel averts his eyes. “He told me it was yours.”

Aofil growls. “Of course he would.”

“And then you pressed me down against the ground.”

“Look, Asriel,” Aofil extends a hand towards Asriel, but he swats it away.

“All I’ve heard from mom and the others have been nothing but praise, but all of my memories of you are you holding me against the cold dirt and then almost strangling me while staring at me like you’re about to kill me.” Asriel’s muzzle wrinkles, but Aofil can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger. “You roared at me to forget about Chara, and that I had to build a better future for the monsters.” Asriel releases his legs and throws a finger against Aofil. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You told me to forget about Chara, and then you acted worse than them. How did you think I was supposed to forget about them when you told me something worse was in store for me?”

Aofil doesn’t know how to answer.

“And then mom and the others told me about how great you were! My entire being sinks every time I hear something about you.”

“I’m sorry, Asriel.”

“That’s not enough!”

“Then what is enough?”

“I,” Asriel quells a sob, “I don’t know,” but he can’t hold his tears back. He again returns his head to his knees, but this time it’s bent down. His entire body shakes with every sob.

Aofil again reaches a hand out for Asriel, but they retract it. “You miss Chara?”

Asriel nods faintly.

“And I’m reminding you of them?”

Another weak nod.

“Do you want me to come back?”

No answer.

“I’m sorry,” Aofil repeats.

No answer.

“You haven’t had anyone to talk about this to, right? Toriel? Asgore?”

“I can’t talk to them about Chara, or about how I was. It would flip their world over, and this time we don’t have me to bring back to fix it.”

“Yeah, it probably would. But, for as much as we remember what happened, and what we did during those times, they don’t actually matter right now. They never happened.”

Asriel averts his eyes, “Easy for you to say,” and flexes his fist.

“But not to accept. I’ve been through one of these resets, and that’s way too much for me. The fact that you’re living a normal life despite everything that transpired is incredibly strong of you. I know that you’ve just met me, but I might also be the only one you can talk to. And you might be the only one I can talk to. Frisk doesn’t open their mouth for me. Do you know why, by the way?”

Asriel scratches his head. “Haven’t really asked.”

“To be fair you had no reason to. Would love to know though. They’re quite the flirty type, or so I heard they were down in the Underground.”

A small smile grows on Asriel. “I remember being so sick about how nice they were to all the monster. Dry heaving with every childish flirt they did. When they flexed with Aaron, sang with Shyren.”

“It feels a bit different now that you can feel?”

“Sure does,” Asriel’s smile fades. “I still hate to think back to those times.”

“You smiled though,” Aofil reminds, “isn’t that a good sign? You’re thinking back to it as Asriel, not as Flowey.”

“Maybe.”

“It’ll just feel like a bad dream in a couple of years, Asriel.” Aofil puts their hand on Asriel’s shoulder again. “Trust me. You have such wonderful people around you. Frisk, your parents, Undyne, the list goes on.”

“What about you?”

“Sorry for doing what I did.”

Asriel shakes his head. “Not that. What about it feeling like a bad dream to you?”

“I,” Aofil takes back their hand, “I don’t know. I need some advice.”

“You’re telling me to forget about Chara, but you’re still holding on to your family?”

Aofil nods, defeated. “Yeah...”

“Chara was my best friend.”

“I know.”

Asriel's eyes shift into a soft plead. “Could I talk to your parents as well?”

“I guess I didn’t show you my and Chara’s room like I promised.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“We’ll see,“ Aofil lifts their head. The lake is bright orange, and the sun is shining directly into their eyes. They stand up. “We should probably get going.” Aofil reaches into their pocket and hands the keys to Asriel. “It’ll be night soon.”

Asriel grabs the keys from Aofil’s hand and brushes himself off as he heads up to the truck stop. Aofil follows, and seats themselves into the passenger seat again.

“Indicators,” they remind to Asriel as he starts the car. Asriel nods, and indicates when he turns out to the road again.

Mt. Ebott is again casting its shadow over Aofil. Again they’re back. Their city hasn’t changed much in their absent. The same people, just a bit older. More monsters are walking the streets though. Asriel stops at a red light, and out the window Aofil sees two humans and two monsters enjoying the last rays of the day. One human leans into the others, and after some talking they all burst into laughter.

The light turns green, and the laughter is drowned out by the engine noise.

“Take a right next intersection,” Aofil instructs.

“But the sign says straight ahead?”

“It’s less traffic this way.”

It’s also a road that doesn’t pass Aofil’s old house, but Asriel doesn’t have to know that. Is Aofil being unfair? Probably, but it’s not like they can enter it. Aofil sold it, it’s not theirs anymore. They’ve no idea who owns it though, not that it’s important. They got the money, and that was all that mattered.

“We’re here.”

Aofil stops Asriel as he’s about to exit the car. “Give me five minutes alone, please.”

Asriel halts with the seat belt wrapped up over his arm. “I guess. Wave me over once you're done.”

“Thanks. I really mean it.”

The gravel path is once again disturbed.

The iron gate squeaks as it’s opened.

“It has been awhile, hasn’t it?”


	74. Bane of the curse

"Yeah, I know," Aofil takes a seat on the nearby bench. They lean forward with their chin on their knuckles, "last time was dramatic. I was..."

The nearby aspen hushes Aofil as the wind blows through it. Aofil feels their shoulders sink down, almost as if they're about to fall off. The wind blows through them. It's mild, calm. It caresses Aofil's cheeks. They want to imagine it as a hand, but they fail to. It's too cold for them. Not warm enough to be real, at least not for Aofil.

God, how they wished it was.

"Sorry," they whisper to the wind, "I just can't."

The aspen quiets down.

A small smirk grows on Aofil's lips. "For all of my talk about families and how I could never replace you. I guess I've already replaced you. I tried to imagine your hand, mom, but it wasn't a human hand that immediately popped into my head. It was Toriel’s. It’s human now, at least."

Aofil runs their hands over their face as they lean back into the bench. “Ho boy, these years. Or, to be more specific, this week. I had almost forgotten you, and I don’t mean forgotten you.”

A small gust bursts the aspen for a short second.

“Yes, yes, let me explain.” Aofil looks around to make sure that they’re alone. Asriel is in the car, slowly bobbing his head to some music. Other than that it’s as dead as a graveyard…

Aofil shakes away the thought, and rolls up their sleeve. The fur on their arm shines whiter than ever. Must be the sun. “See this?” they ask as they flash their arm towards the grave. “It’s a nice little catalyst for my curse. Pretty sure it’s because I have a piece of Asriel’s soul inside mine. Not gonna bother to look, because frankly, I don’t want to know.”

Aofil rolls their sleeve back down. “So, I tried to distant myself from the monsters, and you as well. I figured, if I could leave anything magical behind, then I could perhaps control it. That includes my soul, so that includes you. It was why I left. Not the single reason, but it was a reason nonetheless. The biggest as well, and I didn’t make it lightly. All I had to do to bring back him,” Aofil nods towards the car, “it was just too much for me. Heck, even the reset was too much for me. It was probably too much for me that the monsters even existed. So when I finally felt that I was done, I cut the cord. I couldn’t look at them anymore, there was too much hurt. I was never meant to be with them. I was meant to be with you, but here we are.”

The aspen is quiet, not a sound from it. Aofil lowers their head in shame. “If you’re mad at me for thinking like that, then you’ll be happy to know that it didn’t really work, since the more I did to avoid, the more monsters became involved. I had to settle for something, so I decided to just not think about anything, or anyone, from here.”

Aofil feels the muscles in their cheeks tense, “That worked,” and their eyes filling up. “Because...” The words clog their throat. “Because now I realize that I can barely remember your faces.”

The wind sings through the aspen. The leafs shake violently, screaming at Aofil. “I’m so sorry...” they whimper. The wind reaches Aofil, and again it brushes against their cheek. It’s warm this time.

Aofil’s scoff throws the tears off their face. “Still not enough...”

But the wind doesn’t stop.

“I miss you.”

It keeps blowing.

“What should I do?”

“You could start by moving over, my child.”

Aofil snaps their head towards the voice, “Oh,” and dries off the remaining moisture from their face while scooting to the side.

They’re handed a handkerchief. “No need to be embarrassed, Aofil.”

Aofil denies it. “It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The frock dances in the wind as the pastor sits down next to Aofil. He takes a deep breath, and exhales calmly. “It’s been a while. I’m pleased to see you again, Aofil.”

“Sure has,” Aofil answers distantly.

The winds doesn’t slow down, but that doesn’t detest the pastor. He lets the wind drag and pull at every seam of his frock. “Are you coming back?” he asks with his eyes closed in enjoyment.

“Well, I’m here.”

The pastor lets out a light chuckle before again breathing deeply through his nose. “It’s a relief hearing you say that, Aofil. Even with everything you’ve been through, you’re still you.”

Aofil doesn’t join the pastor in his chuckle, but they do join him by relaxing against the back of the bench. “Wish I could say that myself.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how have you been with your curse?”

Aofil does mind, quite a lot, but another warm gust push their head towards the pastor ever so gently. Aofil gives in to it. “It’s not been well, father. I’ve tried to keep it under control, but I’m not strong enough.”

“That’s because your soul is strong, Aofil. Not because you’re weak. It’s just misguided, and I apologize for that.”

Apologize? What for? “What do you mean?” Aofil asks perplexed.

The pastor places a finger on Aofil’s chest. “You’ve no idea how much your soul would’ve been worshiped back in the days before the Barrier.”

“That’s not cheering me up, to be honest,” Aofil replies, still as perplexed. The pastor returns his finger to himself. “I also remember you saying that there weren’t any books before the Barrier left.”

The pastor leans his unamused face towards Aofil. He raises an equally unimpressed eyebrow. “Not that I knew about.”

Aofil’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it a bit weird that I just told you that your soul would’ve been worshiped, but you refer to it as a curse?”

“Yeah, I guess. But,” Aofil’s brow furrows deeper, “that’s because you called it a curse.”

“Because it is a curse, but not in the way you think, and not in the way I thought either.”

The wind stop, and it summons a smile from the pastor. “Didn’t mean for it to be ominous like this,” he thinks out loud. “But anyway, what I mean is that the curse you have isn’t real. Not anymore. You’re not cursed, Aofil. You just have a red soul. A broken soul, yes, but other than that, then there’s nothing special about you.”

The pastor’s calm smile is having the opposite effect on Aofil. What’s he saying? Nothing special? Then why?

“What?” is the only thing Aofil manages to produce.

“Determination exists in every soul, Aofil. Which means that determination isn’t bound to the crimson heart, it’s bound to every color. Whether it be red, green, or,” the pastor places his hand over his heart, “in my case.”

Aofil turns their head away. “Don’t.”

“Every human has one, Aofil.”

“Please. I don’t want to know.”

The pastor lets go of his chest. “As you wish then. To continue with my point, your soul isn’t cursed. Back in the days before the Barrier, a red soul was seen as something valuable. So valuable and rare that you would’ve been hunted because of it.”

Aofil glances down at their own chest. “Hunted? By monsters? That why we sealed them?”

“By humans, of course. A red soul is an incredibly strong one. More so than any other color. Whereas the others have known virtues to them, the red soul doesn’t. Because of it being sought after by greed and lust for power there aren’t any records of the virtues for it, only how much it transcended the others. Why it is, we don’t know.”

The pastor smiles towards Aofil, who’s face is twisted in confusion. “I told you that you had a curse because that’s how I interpreted the books at that time. During these years I’ve been taking in the monsters culture. Their customs, spirituality, magic, how they view souls.” His smile falters, and he turns his head towards the gravestones. “I’ve learned that what I thought before was false. That what I said was a lie conjured up to protect the bearers of the soul. I’ve twisted the knowledge, like the ones before me. To me it read as the red soul was dangerous, that it was cursed. The curse isn’t because of the dangers the human wielding it possesses, but the dangers against the human wielding it. It’s not a curse from within you, it’s a curse towards you.”

Aofil is frozen, their world is spinning.

“Forgive me,” the pastor begs the wind. “Had I known what I know now, things might’ve been different. That might be a lie, but it’s the closest I can offer as an apology. All that hatred, misguided, baseless. Your parents deserved better than what I gave them. What if I didn’t tell them about it? Would Chara still be alive? Would your family still be alive?” The pastors clamped hands begin to shake. ”Aofil...”

“Y-yes?” they stammer.

“Even after what I said, what I set in motion? I drove their child away. They came to me for guidance, but they left lost. Aofil, do you think they can forgive me? ”

Aofil sighs. “I don’t know. They might be busy enough forgiving me for what I did.”

“You might not be religious, Aofil,” the pastor stands up carefully, “but I’m still gonna ask you.”

“Yes?”

The pastor kneels before the gravestones. “Will you join me in praying for them?”

The pastor praying for Aofil’s parents? The pastor who begrudgingly agreed to house Aofil’s family in his graveyard, is now praying for them. He who proclaimed that Chara and Aofil was cursed, is now telling Aofil that the curse was spun out of jealousy?

“Aofil?” the pastor asks again.

Aofil shakes the thoughts out of their head. They meet the pastor’s eyes. Calm, inviting, pleading for forgiveness. They nod, “Sure,” and kneels next to the pastor. He offers a warm smile.

“Thank you.”

The pastor lays his hands with the palms up on his knees. “For those who’s bond has been broken, may your souls shine bright now that it’s free, and replace the warmth that vanished with you. Let it illuminate the undiscovered path that awaits you. May it remind you of the happiness you brought to everyone you graced with your presence. Join the ones you thought were gone, and smile to us as we awe at the rainbow you’ve joined. For as the sun brings color to rain, so shall you bring color to the void, so that we may find you.”

The pastor lowers his head, “Forgive me,” and lets the wind dance around him.

Aofil lowers their head with him. “And me.”

The wind dances around Aofil as well.

“Pastor?” Aofil asks after a couple of silent minutes without opening their eyes.

“Yes, my child?” he answers gently.

“You said that you didn’t know what you did now back in the day.”

“That is true, these years have been enlightening to me.” The pastor pats his chest. “In more ways than one.”

“So, what do you know now?”

The gravel underneath the pastor rumbles quietly, and Aofil opens their eyes. He reseats himself on the bench, and Aofil joins him. “Like I said, that determination exists in every soul. This past years I’ve been taking in the monster’s beliefs. How they see the soul, and their bodies. It’s fascinating. For them, it’s the same, but for us, it’s separate. We have a bond between our soul and our body.”

“Is that what you meant in the prayer? That when you die, your bond is broken?”

The pastor nods. “Yes. The prayer you shared with me, it was from before the Barrier.”

“And my soul? My curse? Is it true that it doesn’t exist?”

The pastor swivels his head towards the end of the gravel path. He waves, and then looks at Aofil. “I can only tell you my interpretation. Whether it’s true or not, that I don’t know. Besides, does it matter?”

Aofil nods without changing their expression. “Yes, it actually does.”

The pastor stands up, “No, it doesn’t,” and pauses just long enough to be able to interrupt Aofil’s retort. “Because what’s important is what you think is true. It’s your soul, it’s a part of you.”

“What?” Aofil asks with an irritated hand. “Just tell me, is my curse real or not?”

“It’s real as long as you make it real. Now if you excuse me, I have others in my flock I have to attend to. Thank you for joining me, Aofil. I’m sure it did good for your family as well.”

“No!” Aofil places their irritated hand on the pastor’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “I want a straight answer. Is my curse real or not?!”

“Did you change your mind when I told you that I was wrong?”

“Why would I if you were just lying about it being wrong?”

The pastor shrugs, but the hand on his shoulder stays firm. “If I lied back then, what difference would it make if I lied now? So what if I want to try and atone for the wrongs I did? The important part is that you believe it, and take it to heart, or in your case, your soul.”

“Just...”

“Maybe you’re angry with me because I made it clear that you’ve been lying to yourself all these years?” the pastor asks before removing Aofil’s hand. It doesn’t fight back.

Aofil’s head drowns under the question. What if he’s right?

The pastor leans out from Aofil’s shoulder. “Prince Asriel,” the pastor bows to the jeans and shirt wearing monster, “you’ve grown since the last time I saw you. I don’t mean to be rude, but unfortunately I have to attend to other things at the moment.”

Asriel waves it off. “It’s fine, you do you.”

“Send my regards to the king and queen.”

Asriel nods with a smile. “Will do.”

“Aofil,” the pastor bids farewell before walking away with the wind in his back.

“It was a very long five minutes, Aofil?”

Aofil doesn’t hear the question from Asriel at first. The one in their head is too loud for them to hear anything from outside. Asriel notices Aofil’s blank stare, and he leans into Aofil’s view. “Hm?” Aofil mumbles as their brain realizes that someone is in front of them. “Oh, Asg… I mean Asriel. Yes?”

Asriel isn’t sure how to answer. “Yes, I’m here now.”

“When did I wave you over?”

“You didn’t,” Asriel’s brow lowers ever so slightly. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yes,” Aofil assures. “My head is just a bit busy, that’s all. A lot has happened, I guess it’s catching up to me.”

“I can relate,” Asriel nods to himself. He forms words with his lips, but says none. “I can relate,” he repeats after gaining control over his mouth again.

“So, um,” Aofil presents the gravestones to Asriel, “these are my parents. My siblings are next to them. Not Chara, of course. My adopted ones.”

Asriel waves. “We didn’t have a chance to meet last time.”

From an outside perspective, talking to a bunch of gravestones seems kinda strange. Aofil is the last one to judge though, but there’s just something weird seeing someone else doing it.

“It’s kinda weird doing this,” Asriel admits gently. “We monsters don’t bury our dead.”

“You strew the dust on the deceased favorite things, right?”

Asriel nods. “But I heard that you do something similar.”

“Yeah, cremation.”

“I wonder how mom did it with Chara.”

“You haven’t asked her?”

“No,” Asriel raises a seething eyebrow, “because a certain someone told me not to mention Chara while my face was in the cold dirt.”

Aofil nods sheepishly. “Right.”

“So,” Asriel points respectfully towards Aofil’s siblings, “how were they?”

Aofil motions towards the bench. “Not like Chara.”

Asriel clamps his hands together and rests them on his lap. “Do you even remember Chara? I thought you had medicine that blocked your memory.”

“Yeah,” Aofil scratches their nose, “all I heard about Chara was from Chara, or what my mind thought they were. Honestly, I’ve no clue. But my siblings that are here didn’t have the same curse as Chara or me, so...”

“I see.” Asriel drums with his thumbs as he thinks. “How were your big brother then?”

“My big brother was good. I don’t really know how to describe it otherwise. He taught me to pick locks, he helped me, sometimes, with homework. You know, big brother stuff.”

Aofil sees in Asriel’s eyes that he doesn’t know, not at all. “Look,” Aofil tries again, “you’ve heard of how big brothers are, right? He was there for me.”

“Fair enough, I guess. Your sister?”

“She was, she was kinda like MK. Just full of energy all the time. How is he, by the way?”

“MK?”

Aofil nods excitingly without noticing. “Yeah.”

“His dad is working close with my dad to help with the bureaucratic, what he describes, Temmie field, of trying to make a new kingdom literally sprout out of the ground. MK’s been around our house a lot, so we’re really good friends.”

“Frisk too?”

“Yeah, with Frisk too. MK’s got a driver’s license too.”

Aofil’s brow sinks so low that they can barely see. “MK?”

Asriel nod is reserved, and Aofil detects some jealousy as Asriel crosses his arms while twisting his lips. “Yeah.”

Aofil tries, but they can’t fathom how. “But how?”

“His magic,” Asriel mumbles.

As much as Aofil would love to hear the specifics, they can tell that Asriel isn’t gonna give it to them. His body language is a bigger barrier than the Barrier.

Asriel nods towards the bigger gravestones. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.”

“Chara told me a lot about them.”

“A lot of it I’m guessing wasn’t good.”

Asriel shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t. They told me that...”

Aofil stops Asriel with a firm hand between them. “Spare me the details. I don’t want to know what Chara thought of them. Although, was there anything good they said?”

Asriel searches his mind. “Nothing that they said to me, but I could tell that there was something. The more time they spent with us, the less they thought about it though. I could tell, but I could never tell them.”

“It was probably me.” Aofil wrinkles their nose at what they just said, but it’s what makes the most sense. “We were pretty close. I think Chara felt like it was us two against the world. What with our curse being too much for our parents to handle. Had we just waited a couple more days...”

Asriel brushes his ear back. “I wonder what would’ve happened if you fell with them. Me on dad’s head, you and Chara on either side of his shoulders instead of just Chara on one.”

The image floods Aofil’s mind, and they chuckle. “That would’ve certainly been something.”

“The hopes of the Underground.”

“Perhaps they would still be alive today.”

Asriel sighs. “Perhaps.”

The two sit together on the bench, but alone in their minds. The sun manages to reach so low that it blinds them, despite their head being lowered in thought, before they realize the time.

Asriel cocks his head towards the car. “Shall we?”

Aofil nods, “Let’s go,” but before they leave they wave goodbye to their family. Asriel does to, and with a smile on his lips.

Once back in the car Asriel inserts the key into the ignition. A gust of wind shoots through a nearby patch of flowers, and into the car. It catches Asriel’s nose, and he sneezes.

Aofil needs a second to recover from the startling sound. They almost stabbed themselves with the end of the seat belt. “Bless you, Asriel. You alright?”

Asriel dries his nose with his sleeve, “Yeah, I’m fi-” and freezes when he discovers that he’s still holding the key.

The upper half of the key.

He dives down under the steering wheel, his ear slapping against the radio, and turning it on. Hie eyes widen in fear, and he looks up towards Aofil. “It broke!”

Aofil lowers the sound of the volume. “It broke!” Asriel repeats. This time Aofil hears.

He shows Aofil the lower half of the key stuck in the ignition. The lights are on in the car, but the engine isn’t. “Can you get it out? Use a claw,” they suggest.

Asriel shows his hands. “I cut them yesterday, they’re too blunt!”

Aofil can’t help to find Asriel’s panic a little bit funny, but he’s right in that it is indeed a problem. “Asriel, calm down. Let’s just call a tow truck,” they propose before getting out of the car.

“Mom is gonna kill me,” Asriel whimpers before closing the door behind him. He puts his elbows on the roof of the car and slides his hands up his cheeks. They stop under his ears. “She’s gonna kill me.”

He sure is a normal teenager.

“Asriel.”

He removes his hands.

“Asriel,” Aofil repeats now that he can hear, “call a tow truck. I’ll look up a number on my phone, and then you can make the call..”

“Can’t you call one?” Asriel proposes while making himself as small as possible.

“No,” Aofil finds a local company and slides the phone over to Asriel, “it’s important that you know how to call for help once you have your license.”

Aofil glances over to their family. Their dad had just as much fun as Aofil is having now when they were getting their own license.

“Hello?” Asriel starts. “Yes, I need a tow truck. Where?” He looks around for a sign.

“Mt. Ebott graveyard,” Aofil informs.

“Mt. Ebott graveyard,” Asriel relays. “What? Yes, the church.” He shoots a glare at Aofil.

Aofil sighs. Semantics.

Asriel’s glare is interrupted by the phone. “No truck? Then how long?” He looks at Aofil again, but now his eyes are filled with fear. “Three hours?”

Three hours? No, that’s way too long. Aofil motions for Asriel to cover the phone with his hand. “Tell them who you are. That should make you a priority.”

Asriel nods, but not with confidence. “I’m Prince Asriel.”

The laughter from the phone is so loud even Aofil can hear it. Asriel switches ear while massaging the previous one. “No, but I am.”

Aofil beckons for the phone. “Tow truck to the Monster City from Mt. Ebott graveyard, how soon?”

The laughter from the phone takes a while to die down. “Three hours, like I said,” the guy on the phone says again, before chuckling again.

“See you in three hours then.”

Aofil disconnects the call.

“Call Toriel and tell her that we’re gonna be a bit late, Asriel. I know a place where we can eat. They serve snails too.”

Asriel’s face lights up. “Really?”

Aofil’s face sinks. “Yeah, really.”


	75. Same snails, different goat

"This is..."

Asriel's ears flop from side to side as his head jerks between the wide array of flavors on display around him. His chest almost doubles in size as he greedily inhales the smells around him. With an excited and impatient smile on his lips he exhales the smells back into the thick air around him.

"...so cool!”

“Yes,” Aofil agrees with the smallest amount of air they’re able to while still having it be audible. The store is exactly the same as they remember, with the small addition of a monster prince skipping around like he was just released to graze.

In a sense, he is.

Asriel caught whiff of the store surprisingly far away. He caught Aofil with surprise too, and his eyes continued to widen the closer the both of them came to the store. Aofil’s, on the other hand, narrowed as much as Asriel’s widen the closer they came, since they could also smell the store.

The place is just as empty as it was the first time Aofil was here. Although, the ridiculously expanded selection points to the emptiness being the exception rather than the rule. Snails must’ve been a large part of monster cooking. Maybe still is. It’s either that, or Toriel buys bulk from here. Judging by Asriel borderline squealing though, it doesn’t seem to be the case.

The monster clerk looks questioning at Aofil standing in the doorway as she emerges from the backroom. Aofil returns a smile and a wave, and she’s forced to mirror it. Aofil’s not moving though. Despite the friendly invitation, they’d rather not step foot in the store more than they have to.

Something catches Asriel’s nose. “Golden Flower?”

A slick of ill washes over Aofil. Golden Flower snails? Just the thought almost made them heave, so it’s probably for the best that they don’t try to pick out the smell with their nose. Hopefully Asriel picks something else. Maybe the clerk will convince him?

The clerk’s customer summoned smile tells a different story, and she leans out over the counter. “Yes, we just recently...” Her jaws almost drop to the floor as she sees the young boss monster hunched over in anticipation, taking in the smells, and adoring every second of it. “Prince Asriel?”

He turns with a smile so wide it almost splits his cheek. “Is it really Golden Flower seasoned?”

The clerk needs a second or two to collect herself. “Y-yes!” She coughs away her cracking voice. “Yes, it is, your majesty.”

“You never told me you were a prince,” quips Aofil just to prod the clerk's reaction.

The monster clerk snaps her head towards Aofil in disbelief. “You don’t know!?”

Aofil can’t hold their face, and a crack of a smile slips through. “Just kidding, I know who he is.”

The clerk nods, and returns her eyes to Asriel for a moment, before snapping her head back at Aofil. “You know him? He knows you?”

Asriel breaks eye contact with the clerk. “You found anything?” they ask Asriel to deflect the clerk’s question.

He doesn’t answer as he’s too busy hopping from flavor to flavor. “Glam snails!”

Aofil quells another wave of sick.

“Temmie flakes!”

No…

“Ketchup.”

Oh no…

“Mt. Ebott special?”

“Yes,” the monster clerk bows her head, “it’s a mix of monster cuisine, my prince.”

Aofil notices a subtle change in Asriel’s expression. He’s still beaming, but there’s a faint shadow among the glee on his face. Something that the clerk said?

“I think I’ll try this one,” he says with a smile. “The special.”

The clerk lifts a tentacle and points towards the stack of cups next to Asriel. “Containers behind you.”

Asriel grabs one eagerly. “Thank you!”

“Grab one for Toriel as well,” Aofil proposes. “She likes garlic.”

“And Golden Flower for dad!”

Aofil can’t help but be dragged along with Asriel’s excitement. It drowns the disgust. “Sure, why not?”

“And you?” Asriel looks around him. “Which do you want?”

The question forces a worried smile onto Aofil’s lips. “No, no thank you. No snails for me. I’ll get something else.” They stop him from putting back the last container though. “Get some for Frisk instead.”

Hopefully Frisk can forgive Aofil.

Asriel takes off like he’s racing the clock. Aofil chuckles, but as the snail air enters their mouth, they stop. They lean their head away from the door and breathe in some fresh… fresher air, and then they head up to the counter as Asriel stacks the container on the scale. Aofil takes out their wallet. “How much?”

“What are you doing?” Asriel wonders with a perplexed look. “This is for my family, I’m paying.”

“You are?”

Asriel nods, sternly. “Yeah, I am.”

“Alright.” Aofil puts away their wallet. “If you wish.”

“Here,” Asriel hands a note bigger than what the clerk asked for, “keep the change,” he says with a grumble before the clerk can inform him. He packs the snails into two plastic bags, and heads out with stormy steps.

The clerk looks questionably at Aofil, but they’ve no idea. They shrug their shoulders and catch up to Asriel. “Hey, what’s up?”

Asriel wraps the plastic bags around his hands so that he can squeeze them. “Nothing.”

Alright then. Obviously something is, but Aofil decides not to pry.

“Grab a table, Asriel. I’m gonna get something to eat myself. Want something to drink?”

“Soda.”

“Cola good?”

“Yeah.”

“Be back in a bit.”

Asriel heads off to find a table. Aofil turns around so that Asriel can’t see them blowing their lips. What just happened? What did the clerk say? What did Aofil do to piss Asriel off? They just offered to pay. Is he that angry with Aofil that he won’t even accept their money? How deep is his wound from Aofil? Can’t be so deep that he won’t accept Aofil being generous?

“Yes?”

Aofil is dragged out of their thoughts. “Yes?”

The guy in the window tries again. “Yes?”

Aofil now sees that they’re expected to order, since they’re right in front of a discrete, but delicious smelling, window in the wall. Their nose must’ve led them there. “Yes, can I have a,” Aofil scans the menu quickly, “number three? Two cans of cola as well.”

The guy writes the order up and Aofil pays. They’re handed their receipt and are informed that it’s gonna take a minute or two.

Fair enough, back to thinking.

The guy in the window leans out of it. “Nevermind, found some cans in the back of the fridge. Here you go.”

Aofil takes their order, stunned. That went a little too quick. Aofil checks the contains of the bag they were given.

“Need some utensils? Ketchup?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No. Oh wait, yes. A fork and a packet of ketchup, please. It’s just...”

The guy peeks inside the bag as he drops off the fork and ketchup. “You said number three, right?”

Aofil nods. “Yeah, but...”

A fire monster leans into view. “It was a number three?”

“Yeah,” the guy relays, “you made a number three, right?”

The fire monster nods.

“Oh,” Aofil excuses themselves. “Nevermind then, it was nothing.”

Fire magic can apparently cook in an instant. Fair enough.

After a brief search Aofil joins a hunched over Asriel at a secluded table. “Got your soda, Asri-”

Asriel hushes them. “Not my name.”

Aofil opens their can. “Why not?”

Asriel’s claw stops just over the can. “I don’t want people to recognize me.” He taps the top of the can with his claw, and takes a sip.

Aofil looks over their shoulder, they’re seated so that they obscure Asriel from the rest of the plaza. Not many people tonight. Just a couple of monsters and people here and there, eating together. Aofil spots a human girl with a monster next to her. She looks to be Frisk’s age. The monster is dark green with four arms. All of them are flexing, much to the annoyance of the girl. It’s playful annoyance though.

A loud crunch turns Aofil’s head back to Asriel, who’s sampling the first of his snails. “Taste good?”

Asriel nods. “Really good.”

“Nice.”

Asriel points to Aofil’s food with his fork. “Yours?”

Aofil takes a bite. “It’s good too.”

After finally deciding which snail to eat next, Asriel picks it up on his fork, “Nice,” and slips it into his mouth. Not unlike how Toriel did.

The memory washes over Aofil, how stupid they acted. They’ve never seen her eyes shoot cold as much as they did when they refused to say what flavor it is. Aofil reheats themselves with another bite of their food. It’s cooked nicely, the fire monster knows his stuff. Oh wait, that means it’s magic! But wait again, their arm seems to be fine with them eating it. Normally it should be itching by now. So why not?

Is it all just in their head? Like the pastor said?

No, that doesn’t make sense. Aofil didn’t know about the curse when they and Chara first came in contact with the Barrier. They attacked their parents, something must’ve happened.

Did they hit their head? The first of too many? No, can’t be it. But then, how?

“Aofil, your fork?”

They realize that they almost snapped their plastic fork in half. “Oh, yeah.”

Asriel wants to ask why, but he doesn’t. He looks back down into his container and sticks another snail with his own fork. “Sorry for grumbling at you in the shop, by the way.”

“No worries. Don’t think about it.”

“It’s just because...” Asriel’s fork sinks into his container as he drops it. “Sorry, don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You sure?”

“No?” Asriel crosses his arms. “I don’t know.”

“You can talk to me about Chara,” Aofil reminds while putting their own fork down. “Is this bigger?”

“I guess not?” Asriel sighs in defeat. “I want to do something. I want to feel like I am the prince because of what I do, not just because I’m alive. I don’t like being called it. It was all fun and games with Chara since we were just kids, but now that I’m older.” Asriel looks towards the snail shop with a pair of distant eyes. “I have these people smiling at me because they’re obliged to, not because they want to. It feels, wrong. What if they all hate me, but smile only because I’m the prince?”

“Come on now. You said yourself that you had friends, right? They’re not your friends because you’re the prince, they like you because you’re you.”

Aofil’s words doesn’t reach Asriel. Instead, his eyes grow more distant. “Like when me and dad went to visit the fallen children’s parents. He didn’t tell mom. Probably because she would’ve gotten through his stubborn skull what a stupid idea it was to bring me along.”

“Don’t worry, son,” Asriel reassures while mimicking Asgore’s voice. He comes surprisingly near. “It will just be for a minute.”

“They just looked at me,” Asriel continues in almost a whisper, now back with his own voice. “They smiled, but I could tell that they weren’t genuine. When they thought that me and dad were out of hearing distance, they argued about me. Was I it? Was I that they lost a child for? Dad was quick to cover my ears, but I had already heard what they said. He tried to play it off, saying that he saw a couple of mosquitoes landing on my ears. I told him that I didn’t hear anything. He tried to hide it, but he was so relieved.” Asriel’s head sink into his shoulders, and his shoulders sink into the backrest of his chair. The cheap plastic chair squeaks, but he offsets some weight to his legs. He’s familiar with this. “Dad didn’t have to explain to his son why a pair of ex parents didn’t appreciate that their child was used to bring back a parasite prince that hasn’t done anything!”

A nearby table turns their head, but Aofil is quick to meet their eyes so that they return to their own business. “Asri-” Aofil catches their tongue. “Dude.”

Asriel’s expression can only be described as disgusted hearing Aofil calling him ‘dude’.

“Just listen.”

Asriel makes an attempt.

“You have done things,” Aofil starts, “you must have.“

“I know that I’ve done things,” Asriel retorts with a mumble, “but nothing that’s enough. You heard what the trucker on the phone did, he just laughed when I said who I was.”

“He’ll have a different tone once he sees you. Anyone can claim to be the prince over the phone. But anyways, you said you made a skateboard film. That’s something. I’m sure Fuku and her friend appreciated that you spent the time you did making it.”

Asriel rolls his eyes. “Yes, very prince like.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“How is a three minute long, poorly edited, badly audio mixed, skateboard video gonna make up for me causing my people to wish, and almost completing, seven killings?”

“It’s a start?”

“New chapter,” Asriel sighs out tiredly. “While I’m stuck in a previous one.”

“But you’re not,” Aofil reminds. “You’re here, you’re alive, you’re you. Friends, family, future. The old chapter is all in your head, you can’t move on until you recognize that. You have to let others help you, because...”

Wait a second…

“Because, if you keep it to yourself, keep it only to the one that can’t move on...”

Aofil looks down at their arm.

“You try to run away from your problems, only to realize that you’re running away from the ones that can, and want, to help you.”

Who is Aofil actually reminding? Asriel, or themselves?

Asriel returns to his food in silence. His face is deep in thought as he crunches snail after snail. Aofil returns to their own as well. If their arm is quiet this far, then it shouldn’t be a problem continuing. Aofil even catches themselves enjoying their food, but after also catching a glimpse of Asriel washing down bits of snails with his soda, they suddenly start losing their appetite. Not enough to discourage them finishing their meal, but imagining snails mixed with soda isn’t exactly what Aofil would consider enjoying willingly.

After loudly slurping the snail broth, and further plunging Aofil’s taste buds into dread, Asriel shakes the last drops of soda into his mouth. He quells a burp, and releases it away from Aofil. Aofil follows the imaginary cloud of pungent gas with their eyes for a while before feeling a wind from behind them. Confident that the cloud is gone with the wind, they also finish the last of their own food and drink.

Seeing Aofil lean back into their chair, Aofil rummages through his shirt pocket. He pulls out a small packet. “Gum?” he offers.

“Oh,” Aofil reaches over the table and takes one, “thanks.”

Asriel flicks one into his own mouth. “No problem.”

“You think Toriel is going to be upset that we missed her dinner?”

Asriel shrugs. “Upset, yeah. Angry, no. She didn’t even sound angry when I told her about the car.”

“A mom that’s never angry with you?” Aofil chuckles. “Sounds fantastic.”

“Because she thinks that if she becomes angry with me, then I’ll die again.”

“That’s a bit blunt to say.”

“Well,” Asriel shrugs his shoulders again, “that’s how she is. She won’t admit it if you ask, though.”

“Maybe because it isn’t true?” Aofil retorts with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Asriel scoffs so hard his gum flies out of his mouth. He flicks it off the table and pops another one into his mouth, “whatever you say.”

Aofil snaps their fingers. “Exactly.”

Asriel rolls his eyes.

The chair squeaks as Aofil leans back into it with their arms crossed over their chest. What to do next? Are they just gonna sit here for what, one and a half hour more? Aofil scratches their chin while thinking. As they return their fur covered arm underneath their other, they feel it vibrate. It’s almost pulsing. Dammit, why now?

Aofil glances over to Asriel, but he’s busy with his phone. They lift their arm out from the other. The vibrating stops. It’s not in their arm.

It’s their own phone.

Aofil’s sigh of relief forces Asriel from his own phone. He stares at Aofil holding theirs in their hand. “You gonna answer?” he asks after two tones. “Could be the trucker.”

Aofil answers just before the call disconnects. “Aofil.”

“A truck opened up earlier, so we’re sending one to the church now,” informs another worker from the towing company. “It’ll be there in roughly half an hour.”

“Sure, sounds good!” Aofil ends the call and motions for Asriel to stand up, “Truck is on its way,” Aofil informs him, “so we should probably make sure that we’re at the car when it arrives.”

“I could call Frisk,” Asriel proposes while waving his phone.

“Okay?”

“So that they can get Sans on the phone. Ask him if he can shortcut us two back home.”

“You think he would do that? Can he even do that?”

Asriel shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s better than calling for a taxi.”

“We’ll just hitch a ride with the truck, no problem.”

“In the,” Asriel looks at Aofil with a bewildered face wrinkled in confusion, “car?”

“No,” Aofil tries to hide their reaction to Asriel’s assumption, “in the cab of the truck. We should fit no problem.”

“You think they’ll let us?”

“I know that you don’t like to leverage your position, but I’m positive that the driver will recognize who you are. Doesn’t matter if they’re a human or a monster. It’s either that, or you waiting with your hood over your head while I explain why we lied to them that you were the prince.”

Asriel doesn’t see any problem with that plan, but Aofil lifts a finger. “Which might piss them off enough to not serve us,” they add.

“Right...”

“I’ll do the talking, Asriel. You just try and look, um, royal.”

With a flick of his shirt Asriel blows his lips. “It’s hard enough with the ceremonial robes. I’m trying to keep my normal life without any royal stuff, you know.”

“It’s either that or hoping that the driver is in a good mood at this hour. Then we have to call a cab, so that’s gonna be expensive. Toriel will worry more if she only sees the car coming up without us in it.”

“Okay!” Asriel bursts out tiredly. “Let’s just do this.”

A silent walk later the two reach the church again. The headlights on the car has dimmed a bit, so the battery must be draining. Aofil promises to Asriel that it isn’t a problem. They just need to recharge it once it gets home. Before Asriel can dry the sweat off of his forehead, the tow truck emerges from around the street corner. Aofil again promises that it’s fine, but the trucker have to actually see Asriel for the plan to work.

The trucker parks behind the car and walks around with a smug twist to his steps. “I heard that the prince had car troubles,” he chuckles out while pretending to scan his surroundings.

Aofil throws their thumb towards Asriel. “Here he is.”

Asriel waves just long enough to catch the trucker’s attention, but not a second longer.

The monster trucker fumbles with his cap before finally gripping it and taking it off. He bows his head. “O-oh, so it was you.”

“You don’t mind us hitching a ride to the Monster City?” Aofil asks, feeling the same smugness that the trucker just had.

“That’s where you’re going?” The trucker nods his head quickly. “Y-yes, of course. Let me just hook the car up.”

With another bow the trucker begins his work. Aofil beckons for Asriel, and holds the truck door open for him as they seat themselves in the middle seat. Asriel closes the door after him.

Aofil winks cheekily. “Told you it would work."

Asriel’s brow narrows, but his mouth stays closed. He takes out a pair of earbuds from his pant pocket. After some unraveling he inserts them into his ears, and leans away from Aofil.

A couple of loud minutes pass as the car is hoisted up on the truck. The trucker seats himself in the driver’s seat. “So, where are we going?”

Good question. Aofil has no clue. Carefully they elbows Asriel in his side to get his attention. “Where are we going?”

Asriel relays the address without any hint of interest or emotion in his voice. He then replaces his earbud and again leans away from Aofil and the trucker.

Aofil turns back to the trucker, who’s face is drained of color. “Am I gonna be punished for laughing at the prince?”

Aofil looks back at Asriel. Try as he might, he’s still the prince. Right now he’s all teenager though. “Nah, I think you’re good.”


	76. Road back away from home

"Can I ask you a question?"

The trucker is a bit taken back as he’s ripped from his driving zen. Almost like Aofil startled him. “Yeah, sure.”

“How has this city been after you monsters surfaced?”

The trucker flicks on the truck’s full beams while turning out onto the highway towards Monster City. The beams turn the dark highway outside into day. “You lived here before?”

“Yeah, in the outskirts, but I moved away.”

The trucker glances over to Aofil with three narrowed eyes. “Because we monsters surfaced?”

“It’s not because of why you’re thinking. I’m not racist,” Aofil defends. “I just had to get some distance away. The reason why is, complicated.”

“Heard something similar once I started looking for a job up here,” the trucker replies with his eyes still narrowed. “It wasn’t because I was a monster or anything, but the position had already been filled. They were happy that I applied, and then they hung up on me as fast as possible. It wasn’t until a couple of months after the trial that things finally calmed down enough for someone to give me an interview.”

Aofil cocks their head towards Asriel. “I know the prince and his family, so take that however you like it.”

“True, I guess,” the trucker agrees. “So why did you move away if you know the Dreemurrs? I know I wouldn’t if I knew the Royal Family.”

“Yeah, but I’m not you.”

Not the answer the trucker wanted, but it’s the one he got. “Fair enough then.”

The trucker shuts off the full beams for a moment as he spots another car approaching. It passes, and then the road is again illuminated like it was high noon as the trucker activates the full beams again.

“Were you part of the riots?” Aofil asks after some debating whether they should or not.

“Riot, there was only one,” the trucker corrects while adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t.” He sighs deeply. “It wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done. Can’t believe that I actually did it. Looking back at it. Damn, what a mess. The Surface was supposed to be our future. It is now, but man was there a bigger mountain than Mt. Ebott in the way before we could...”

The trucker loses his thread of thought as the memories rushes through his mind. Aofil puts up a calm hand. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s fine.” The trucker massages his lobe with his hand. “The more I do, the more I feel that I can put it behind me. I just need a minute.”

Aofil nods. “Of course.”

The trucker pauses to collect his thoughts. As he strokes his chin, Aofil ears pick up something else, but from the other side. They turn to see Asriel tapping the side of his phone, causing the guitar riff to grow in strength from his ears. If Aofil can hear it it’s way too loud, more so probably in Asriel’s ears.

Or are they being racist despite saying that they’re not?

Aofil spots Asriel’s wide opened eyes in the reflection from the passenger window. The reflection is faint, but it’s plenty enough for Aofil to see the fear in Asriel’s eyes. He must also be remembering.

“I was so,” the trucker manages just those words before having to calm himself further, “angry. First against the monster judges. Then against,” he trucker shoots a look over to Asriel on the other side. Asriel curls up further. He must’ve either heard it or felt it. “And then,” the trucker’s eyes move to Aofil. He tears them off after a second to return them to the road, “against you humans. With all that was said, the verdict, how Asgore and the monster judges acted. I-I thought we would be sealed back up again. I panicked, we all panicked.”

The trucker scoffs. “The worst part is that, from what I heard, you humans felt the same about the trial. It just escalated so quickly. No one had an outside point of view, everyone was involved.” The trucker tilts his head to Aofil. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Aofil lies.

“And then, outside the courthouse...In that moment we had all forgotten how weak we were compared to you humans. If it had been just another minute or so, we probably would’ve realized. But then, someone threw the-”

“Shut up!” Asriel roars and throws his hands down on the seat. The trucker jolts away from him, and the truck swirls for a second before he regains control over it. The trucker stares at Asriel with regret surging through him, but to his surprise, Asriel lowers his own head, “Sorry...” and returns to staring out the passenger window, but not before tapping the side of his phone again.

Aofil lets some time pass before continuing. “What happened afterwards?”

The trucker looks over to Asriel, but Aofil beckons his view towards them instead. With a sigh he gives in. “Then, all hell broke loose. I don’t know how the war was before the Barrier, but we all caught a glimpse of what it could’ve been. You humans were cautious at the beginning. Probably because you didn’t know about your souls compared to ours. Someone in the monster crowd shouted that we should use our magic.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, and I hit one. It didn’t hurt them though. I was just as scared as the human was after being hit. He patted himself to try and figure out where he was hit, but he didn’t find anything. No wound, no nothing. And then,” the trucker snaps his fingers, “just like that, it turned. We scattered, those who could flew away, and the rest of us were chased.”

“Damn, for how long?”

“Have you lived under a rock or something? Asgore happened, remember? His shout that almost broke every window in the city, and his speech afterwards. Is this how the monsters would start their new chapter? The same way the old one ended? With blood and dust? The human lawyer as well. He was the father of one of the kids murdered, and if he could accept the justice, then why couldn’t the humans? The moment of stunned silence was enough for the police and Royal Guard to charge in and take control over the situation. I managed to not get caught, but it was a close one. Undyne caught me with her eye, but she was too busy with another monster.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

“Is this the first time you’ve heard about it?” the trucker wonders very suspiciously. “There was at least a month of constant news coverage afterwards. Eventually it died down. Hell, lucky that it did die down. Otherwise I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Good thing Aofil wasn’t part of the trial. If Asgore had their curse as an ace this time again then the riot might’ve become genocide. And then Frisk would’ve been forced to reset, and then…

No! Aofil shakes the thought out of their head. There’s no need. It’s fine! It's in the past. Don’t think about it. For their own sake, just don’t give it a second more.

“So,” the trucker starts again after a heavy sulk of his shoulders, “yeah, it was pretty bad. Luckily no one was killed.” The trucker scoffs when he realizes. “Probably wouldn’t have been a human though if anyone was to die. It’s a bit scary knowing that anyone of you could wipe us all out should you wish. No human I’ve met I feel would ever do it, but still.”

“A human could wipe out the human race as well,” Aofil adds with a tilt of their head.

“Not as easily though.”

“You think anyone would?”

“I didn’t mean it as I don’t trust you, or that I’m channeling up magic every time I see a human.”

“Not that it would be effective, like you said,” Aofil reminds.

“That too. It’s just,” the trucker searches for the right word, “that I’m aware of it, you know? Would you be safe around a human with, let’s say, a gun?”

Aofil scratches their head. “That extreme?”

The trucker debates with himself whether or not it was. “No? I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. To be honest, I feel a bit uncomfortable talking about it.”

“Because I’m a-”

“Yes,” the trucker interrupts, “because a monster would also know why. I’m sorry...”

“It’s fine, I promise. I didn’t move away because of you monsters, and you don’t have to explain why.”

The trucker nods. “Sounds good.”

“So,” Aofil decides to change the subject before the air in the cab freezes them all to death, “the city?”

“Right, the city. From what I’ve seen, and after everything had cooled down after the trial, it’s mostly been better and better. More monsters walking around, and more humans with them. There’s still some tensions around, but not nearly as much as it was after the riot. Like cooked instead of dry spaghetti.”

Aofil’s half tempted to look over their shoulder to make sure that Papyrus isn’t sitting in Toriel’s car, but they decide against it.

“I can only really talk from a monster’s perspective. So, if we take me for an example.” The trucker puts a hand on his chest. No soul emerges though, which is good. “I surfaced a couple of months or so after the Barrier broke. All my life I’d longed to see the sun, and when I finally saw it.”

Aofil lets a smile form. “Beautiful?”

“No, I couldn’t see for an hour or so. I worked as a surveyor in the Crystal Caves. Not much light there, but your eyes adapted. Had a bit of help with magic, as well. I could spot the smallest crystal in the darkest and smallest cranny.”

“And you forgot to remove it before reaching the Surface?”

The trucker smirks at Aofil. “You’re allowed to laugh, I do it too when I think back to it. Anyways, I had help with finding somewhere to live. Asgore had set up some contacts with the real estate agency. Probably used some of his golden coins and tongue, and I found myself in an apartment with a room dedicated to a porcelain seat I had no idea what to use it for.”

Aofil chuckles through their nose. “A toilet.”

“Now I know what it is, but back then.”

“If it’s not too personal to ask?”

“What I thought it was? Man, what was it again?” The trucker leans his jaw on his knuckles. “Oh yeah, a washer of sorts. Imagine my reaction when I found out that there was an actual washer when I turned my head.”

Aofil can barely hold their face together.

“Yeah, exactly like that. Only with confusion instead of laughter.”

“I’m not...” Aofil says very carefully as to not have their face explode into a guffaw.

“Like I said, it’s fine. I think it’s hilarious too. So, after some time to get comfortable with my new apartment, I was told to look for a job. So,” the trucker’s face sinks, “I did. Tried might be a better word though.”

Aofil forces their face to calm down. It was okay before, but laughing now would be the worst thing to do. The trucker again needs some time to collect himself before he takes a breath.

“I can’t count how many times I heard the same excuse, but worded differently. Every day for what felt like a year. Hooray, I had surfaced, but I was happier in the Underground. No friends of mine wanted to surface, at least not as early as I did. No family either. There was just handful of us during the first wave. Made a bit of a stir in the community. From what I could gather, the humans had just barely come to terms with the Dreemurrs, Undyne and Alphys, and the skeleton brothers, and now another group of monsters emerge.”

The trucker pauses to read the distance left to Monster City from a passing sign. They’re soon there. “So I felt like all eyes were on me every time I stepped outside. When I went for groceries humans would lean in over their carts. When I met another monster it was just a brief relief, for in the end it all came down to the same conversation.”

The trucker takes one hand off the wheel. “Have you found a job?”

He puts it back and lifts off the other. “No, have you?”

And throws both in the air. “No.”

“Sounds like it was a tough time for you,” Aofil comments. “Feeling that everything and everyone are against you. Having no family or friends around to support you.” They nod faintly. “I know that feeling.”

“And it just kept building and building. Every little thing that I could blame on the humans, I did. No job, racist humans. No family, hostile humans. Stubbed my toe, human furniture. It just kept adding up until the riot where it all,” the trucker flings his arms out, almost knocking over Aofil, “went to complete shit.”

“Sunshine on your body, but no sunshine in your mind.”

The trucker returns his arms to the wheel. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“But then?”

“Then, the air around us monsters and you humans changed. Like a switch was thrown somewhere, but we had to almost go for each others neck to flick it.”

“We’ve lived together for longer than we’ve been separated,” Aofil shrugs, “perhaps we needed something to show us that we aren’t so different.”

The trucker thinks for a bit before looking back at Aofil with a conflicted expression covering his face. “And violence is what we both have in common?”

“Every major event has been because of violence. The war, and then, at least on our side, violence throughout the ages. Some of our biggest scientific discoveries were because of war.”

The trucker glances over to Asriel, and then back to Aofil. “The Barrier though. It was because Frisk befriended instead of killing that we could be free. I didn’t meet them, but my friend Aaron told me that the child knew exactly what to do to make friends.”

“I guess that’s were it changed,” Aofil agrees, even though they know that the truth is far from that. ”Only took six human kids dying to make it a reality though.”

“Sev-” The trucker catches his tongue. “Yes, six. Frisk is still alive.”

Judging by how hard Asriel is struggling to calm himself down after the trucker unknowingly reminding him of the seventh, Aofil decides to not fuel the Chara fire further. There’s an additionally million reasons why it’s a horrible idea too, yet this one seems to be the most prominent at the moment. Aofil tries their damnedest not to let on that they notice neither Asriel’s angry huff, or the trucker’s worrisome sigh. “But I guess the trial was our outlet for them, and you all the years Underground. We cleaned the slate.”

“I don’t know about the Underground though.”

“And I don’t know about the six kids though, but let’s not delve further into it. The riot was more than enough tension to last a lifetime.”

The trucker agrees that it’s a good idea with a stoic nod. “Eventually I did find a job.” He pats the top of the dashboard. “This job. There’s still humans that are taken back that a monster comes to help their car, but it’s more of a pleasant surprise nowadays. Like when you walk into an MTT store to find humans working there. It’s still not perfectly normal in my head, but it’s getting there.”

“Speaking of not completely perfectly normal,” Aofil intersects. “Are fire monsters usually cooks? I know of Grillby in Snowdin. Or were in Snowdin? I don’t really know if he has surfaced.”

“Neither do I, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But anyways, I visited one of those windows in the walls at the downtown food court. You know the one?”

The trucker searches his mind for a bit. “The one with that snail shop close to it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah, I think I know which window you’re talking about. It takes longer for them to get your drink than it takes to cook the meal.”

Aofil snaps their fingers with overflowing excitment. “Exactly! I was handed my food before I managed to put away my wallet.”

The trucker’s face lights up bright red. “Not something you humans are used too?”

Aofil is washed over by green, but it fades as the truck drives through the intersection. “Not really. The quickest food I’ve had takes at least a couple of minutes, and that’s not really something you should eat regularly.”

“Down in the Underground the most expensive food you can find is prepared by fire monsters. Each one gives it their special flavor depending on their mood and magic usage. Or at least, that’s what the sign says outside the restaurant in MTT Hotel,” the trucker admits with a hawk.

Aofil scoffs through their lips. “Sounds like Mettaton alright.”

The trucker cocks his head at the remark, but he returns it to himself after a second or so. He bends down over the wheel to read the street signs, and mutters to himself as he tries to figure out where he is, and where he’s supposed to be going. After a tired sigh he looks over to Asriel, but decides against asking. Aofil would love to help, but they know less than the trucker.

After some wrong turns and silent cursing the trucker finally finds it. “Ah, here it is,” he informs and turns onto…

“Royal Street,” Aofil reads out loud.

Why are they surprised?

The castle is... No, wait, that’s not a castle. Not even a mansion. Granted, it’s a big house, but not a mansion. Seems rather unroyal for the royals. As the truck approaches Aofil spots some large silhouettes moving closer to the door through the lit windows. The truck pulls up to the driveway, and the front door opens. The trucker exits the cab and begins lowering Toriel’s car back down to the ground.

Aofil nudges Asriel with their elbow. “You’re home.”

He wakes up with a jolt. When he sees Aofil his face twists, but it calms down after a handful of seconds. He exhales, and drags his hands over his face. Aofil follows him out of the cab.

“Why didn’t you stop?”

Aofil couldn’t really hear as they were busy closing the door. “Sorry?”

Asriel removes the earbuds from his ears. “Why did you continue talking even though I asked you to stop?”

Aofil searches their mind for a brief moment. “Was it really asking?” they themselves ask with a raised and confused eyebrow.

Asriel bundles his earbuds into his shirt pocket, “Nevermind,” and heads up the gravel path.

Asgore meets him halfway and ruffles his head. Asriel gives a nod to Asgore’s hello, but nothing more. Not even Toriel gets a proper greeting, just a nod and a shrug after she asks something Aofil can’t make out from where they’re standing.

“My king!” the trucker almost snaps his spine in two as he bows down. Asgore stops dead in his track, perplexed. He looks at Aofil and shrugs with a hand towards the trucker before beckoning him to stand up normally.

“Golly me, it’s I that should bow down. Thank you for sacrificing your time. Please accept my deepest apologies for inconveniencing you at this late an hour.” Asgore reaches into his back pocket and flips out his wallet. “So, how much do I owe you?”

The trucker again fumbles with his cap before he manages to take it off. Asgore motions for him to put it back on. The trucker obliges, and Asgore summons a smile so warm that the trucker starts sweating. “I seem to have misplaced my cash,” Asgore explains as he shakes his empty wallet. “Could you send an invoice, and add a ten percent inconvenience fee to compensate for this late hour?”

“I-I,” the trucker stutters out.

“Fifteen percent it is then,” Asgore shoves his wallet back into his pocket. “Thank you.”

The sounds from the trucker’s mouth can almost be described as words. “Y-yes, of course. B-but where to send it?”

Asgore pats himself for a pen and paper, but doesn’t find any. He turns around towards Toriel.

“Excuse me,” the trucker intercepts with a raised finger. Once he gets back Asgore’s attention he fishes out a notebook and a pen from his pocket. Asgore thanks him warmly, and writes down some credentials. He returns it with an even warmer thank.

The trucker bows again, and hops back into his truck. Aofil sees him engaging the fans before starting up and driving away.

Asgore waves the trucker off until he can’t see him anymore, and then turns to Aofil. “It’s been a while.”

Aofil quells a yawn. “It has, Asgore.”

“I have a bottle of whiskey I haven’t really decided if it was worth the money. It’s mixed with Golden Flower. I think I need a human tongue to help me decide though since I’m a bit biased.” Asgore motions for the house. “Care to join me?”

“I don’t know. I should probably find somewhere to sleep.”

“There’s a guest room available,” Toriel informs softly with steps even more so. Aofil can barely hear the gravel underneath her. “But only if you want.”

“What about the car?”

“It’s far too late in the day to worry about it. Besides, I’ve already called Alphys,” Toriel assures with eyes ever so soft and patient. “So pay no mind to it, it wasn’t your fault. Please, let us give you this.”

Aofil can’t really escape now, can they? Are they really grabbing the bull by the horns if the bull came up to them? Toriel is right on one thing though, it is far too late to worry. Also, Alphys? Aofil looks down at their arm. Is it worth a shot? Perhaps.

What happens afterwards though? What’s Aofil’s plan for the future? Can Asgore and Toriel help them? Can any? No idea. But, what about their curse? Maybe? In any way, Aofil has to make the first move though, they have to let someone else help them help themselves.

Aofil looks up at Asgore and Toriel. “As long as I’m not being intrusive.”

Asgore puts a quiet hand on Aofil’s shoulder, and looks down at them with a stern, but comforting pair of eyes. “You know that you’ll never be, Aofil.”

Toriel’s eyes are the same, and they say the same thing. Aofil returns the smile.

“Then, can I have mine on the rocks?”


	77. A night whisked away

"Oh god..."

Aofil struggles up a hand over their face to shield them from the sun sneaking a very intense peek through the window beside them. It slashes at a very sharp angle, and with a very sharp intensity. The shadow created by Aofil’s hand helps to reduce the beating in their head, but they still hear and feel every single heartbeat of their own.

That was some damn strong whiskey.

Where are they? Oh yeah, right. At the Dreemurrs. Seems pretty big for a guest room, but that might be because they get a lot of monster visitors. Aofil’s not complaining though, the bed they’re in is bigger than theirs back home…

Luckily a flash of sharp pain shoots through their head before they can elaborate on the thought. Aofil groans again, and with a fair amount of difficulty, rolls away from the happy and joyful sun that Aofil doesn’t share with in the slightest.

What’s the time? Nine o’ clock says Mettaton’s arms on the MTT branded clock on the wall opposite the bed. So it’s not too late in the morning. Less than eight hours of sleep though. Asgore sure likes to talk. Good thing he suggested they continue in the garden. The night air did probably help a fair bit. He probably also did it so that Toriel and or the kids wouldn’t hear him and Aofil talking.

What did they talk about? Aofil struggles to think through the thumping echoing in their skull. Something about… the weather? The stars? Gardening?

Aofil pushes their palm against their forehead. The whiskey itself perhaps? How did he describe it again?

Smooth like Toriel’s...and then something, but with a hard and smokey flavor, like Toriel’s gaze if she heard what he said the first time.

Man, he must’ve went hard on it.

Aofil removes their palm, but instantly presses it back to quell the seemingly never ending thumping. They must’ve gone hard on it as well. Despite the immense pain surging through them, Aofil eyes shoot wide open. What if?

They sit up and lift up their other arm. They’re still wearing their shirt.

“Oh thank god...” Aofil sighs with relief as they fall back down into the bed. Hopefully they managed to keep their mouth shut about it as well. Their tongue can handle alcohol better than Tylior, and have done so plenty of times before, so it shouldn’t be a worry.

Aofil also woke up in a bed, and not in a laboratory. There’s no one guarding them as well, so it’s probably safe. To be fair, Aofil needs to do something extremely horrible to be shunned by Toriel or Asgore, so it’s not really a guarantee even if Aofil still woke up in their house.

Only one way to find out if it really happened. Aofil grunts through their teeth as they sit up and swing their legs over the bed. On a stool next to them is a towel and some clothes. Jeans, and a short armed shirt.

Toriel will believe that Aofil didn’t see them, so that’s fine.

“I knew I should’ve fixed the stairs...” Asgore grumbles with a sigh from what seems to be the kitchen as Aofil makes their way down the stairs. The creaking from underneath Aofil isn’t doing them any favors either.

The sun again smiles through the kitchen window. It reflects on what seems to be everything in the room, and Aofil again lifts their hand for some shadow. With his legs crossed Asgore is reading the newspaper. It’s a large one, much bigger than any human ones. Aofil doesn’t catch the headline of the paper Asgore’s reading before he lowers it. “Golly, what a morning.”

A second later Aofil needs to take support on a nearby chair. Suppressing a laugh while also trying not to move or do anything in particular only worsens the pounding in their head. With an audible smack they force their palm against their forehead again.

“How’re you feeling?” Asgore asks a bit worried. Aofil sits down in the closest to a human sized one they can find.

“I’m fine, it’s just-” They catch a glimpse of Asgore and again has to force their laugh to stay inside. Even if it means feeling like the thumping is gonna bulge their head outwards.

Asgore peers at Aofil from behind the pair of sunglasses Aofil gave Toriel so many years ago. “Do you want anything? Tea, perhaps?” With some effort he reaches over the table for the kettle. “Golden Flower still fine?”

Aofil nods carefully. “Yeah, I think I can manage.”

Asgore reaches behind his shoulder and manages to hook a teacup from the cupboard with his claw. “So, did we ever come to a consensus over the whiskey?”

“No idea. Is there even anything left of it?”

Asgore searches his mind thoroughly, and almost overfills the teacup. He realizes in the last second, and saves his lap from a waterfall of scolding tea. “I honestly can’t tell. Not that I’ve looked for it.”

He tries to spot it through the window, but he’s forced to abandon his search after a second or so. He shakes his head carefully. “I’ll look for it once the sun has calmed down.”

Aofil blows on their tea. “All these years and the sun still hurts?”

Asgore chuckle shakes the table. He then pushes his hand towards his forehead. “Oh...” he moans. Aofil should feel bad, but seeing Asgore with those sunglasses, and with this hangover. There isn’t a single thing that could sour their mood.

But speaking of sour, the tea. Damn, it’s been a while. A very long while. It’s almost as if Aofil tasted it for the first time. They swoosh it around in their mouth. Some subtle smoke follows their pleased exhale, and they find themselves a bit more comfortable with their head.

Their arm though? How will it react? Aofil has a believable reason for feeling ill now. If they do force up some determination, perhaps they can give it to Alphys so that she can test it. In any case, they can still enjoy the tea while it lasts. So why not?

“Anything else, Aofil?” offers Asgore. “Cereal, bread, fruit?”

“Cereal, please.”

Asgore again leans back and grabs a bowl and a spoon. His chair is surprisingly quiet during the drastic shift of weight. He then swings his finger in front of two different kinds of cereal.

Aofil picks the one that isn’t MTT branded, nor with Mettaton swimming around in a sea of chocolate.

“So,” Asgore flips open his newspaper again after handing Aofil the cereal, “are you gonna stay here?”

Aofil stops mid pouring of their cereal. They glance up at Asgore who himself glances over from his paper. “I don’t know...”

Asgore’s smile shines almost as bright as the sun, but it hurts infinitely less. “No need to rush the decision if you don’t want to, Aofil. I just want you to know that the door’s open for you when,” he clears his throat, “if, you feel like it. The same from Toriel, I’m certain of that. Just give either of us a call, alright? We’ll sort things out for you.”

Aofil nods, and continues with their cereal. Asgore returns to his paper, but his smile doesn’t fade.

Among the sound of large pieces of paper being flipped, and cereal being crunched, Aofil still finds enough focus to think about it all. What the pastor said, what Asriel said. Tylior, Toriel, everyone. When they sat on the bus they knew that this might’ve happened, yet they didn’t plan anything for it.

Why not? Aofil asks themselves. Because they hoped that it wouldn’t happen? In that case they’re stupid. Perhaps they had already made the choice? In that case, they’re also stupid.

So which flavor of stupid is it? The bitter one that lingers from the past? The one that tastes of what did happen? Or the other bitter one? The one that tastes of determination flowing and forcing Aofil’s mind to places they never want to go?

Which one brings the most sweet? That is the real question.

Aofil knows the first one. The sweetness of not being burdened. They can always run, they can always not get involved. It’s easy, it’s safe. It might not make them completely happy, but it won’t make them completely miserable either. Being not completely miserable is a pretty good state to be in, considering what can happen if their curse blossoms further than what Aofil is able to control. Do they love their friends enough to not endanger them?

The second taste is just like the next sip of tea Aofil takes. Yes, it’s sweet, but also very sour. It’s also a risk. If their curse still is what they think it is, then it could shatter their friends, and themselves. Like if Aofil dropped their cup down onto the floor. Pieces and tea everywhere, and they would be the only one to blame

Aofil drinks another mouthful to quell the thumping reemerging in their head. The tea soothes, and their arm is still too. Seems like Alphys is the next stop then. She’s the only one Aofil knows that might have any idea how to, or at least try to, understand what their curse actually is. Determination is her strong suit. She did make Flowey, so something reverse wouldn’t be that far off?

Aofil’s conflicted expression catches Asgore’s attention, but he doesn’t pry further.

Maybe she won’t be so keen to experiment further, now that Aofil thinks about it. She’s their only shot though, so she’ll have to forgive Aofil for insisting.

After finishing his paper Asgore folds it up and offers it to Aofil, who politely declines. Asgore then throws the paper onto an empty chair next to him. He then removes the sunglasses and blinks deeply to adjust his eyes. It seems to work. “Anything on the agenda today? Need help booking a ride home? I could call Papyrus for you.”

“Haven’t planned that far ahead,” Aofil answers while halting the last spoon of cereal. They chew and swallow it quickly. “I was actually thinking of visiting Alphys and Undyne. You think they’re home by now?”

Asgore’s brow furrows as he thinks. “Should be? She, Alphys that is, I think has the day off today. Undyne mentioned something about the two of them taking a day out shopping. Can’t remember if it was today or tomorrow though.” He pats his pants. “If you give me a second I could call them for you.”

Aofil lifts their empty bowl, and Asgore throws his thumb towards the sink while his other hand is struggling to convince his phone to get out of his pants pocket. He dials the number quickly and puts the phone under his ear. “You want me to tell them you’re coming, or do you want to surprise them?”

Aofil finds an empty spot to balance their bowl on without collapsing everything. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Asgore shrugs, “You did it with us,” and jumps a bit when Alphys answers. “Hello, Alphys! Tell me, was it today or tomorrow you had your day off? No reason, was just wondering. Oh, today? Good, thank you. Enjoy it!”

“So, today?” Aofil asks as Asgore disconnects the call.

“Yes, today. They live just down the street. You can’t miss it.” Asgore stands up with what can only be described as an old man grumble. “Come, I’ll walk you to the door. Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ll take care of them later.”

Aofil nods, and follows Asgore to the hallway.

“Morning, Frisk,” he wishes the human walking down the stairs rubbing their eyes.

Frisk opens their mouth to return the greeting, but just then Aofil comes into view. They halt their mouth mid opening.

Aofil smiles and nods to Frisk before fetching their shoes. They hear Frisk walk behind them towards the kitchen, and prepare for themselves what sounds like a bowl of cereal. Not the same kind though. The one’s Frisk is pouring sounds a bit more, chocolate.

“Strange...” Asgore mumbles. “Frisk is usually welcoming of mornings. Well, late mornings.”

“Maybe they had some whiskey as well?” Aofil tries to defuse.

“Don’t even joke about those things. Toriel would have my head if that were the case.”

“Then I’ll refrain from telling her. You said Alphys and Undyne was just down the road?”

Asgore returns his narrowed eyes to their usual round self as he opens the door for Aofil. “Yes, just down the road.”

Aofil offers their hand. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Asgore takes it, and pulls Aofil into his embrace. “Anytime, Aofil.” He softens his grip, and Aofil takes a step back. Their hand is still firmly inside Asgore’s though. “If you decide against coming back, do make an effort to visit every once in a while? We do really miss you, every one of us.”

Asgore reluctantly lets go of Aofil’s hand. “I’ll keep that in mind, Asgore.”

“Please do.”

The door is with one last smile to Aofil, and they turn on their heel, and almost fall off them.

Wow! How didn’t they see the garden last night? Damn, they must’ve been tired. It’s gorgeous! Ir hurts them to look at it, but for all the good reasons. So many flowers, so many colors. Hedges and trees in even weirder shapes that what Asgore had at Mt. Ebott. Papyrus’ green head is smiling as always. The Delta Rune in all its glory.

Asgore’s been busy, and it shows. Every single one of these would win any and all botanical competition no problem.

Sadly the gravel road ends at the street, and the hallway of spectacular is but a thing behind Aofil. They turn around to get another glimpse of it, and conclude that it wasn’t a bad idea.

Down the road they head.

“You can’t miss it,” Aofil mouths with the closest they can come to Asgore’s voice as they stand in front of what has to be Alphys and Undyne’s house. It has too, there isn’t another possibility in this world or any other that such isn’t the case.

How to even describe it? Monstrous? Anime monstrous? Anime monstrous with a whiff of action movies? Anime monstrous with a whiff of action movies, and also looks like it could catch fire just by rubbing your hands together?

At least it doesn’t have any pink legs on it.

Aofil lifts up a hand to knock on the door, and a camera shutter changes focus next to them. They smile to it, and then knock a couple of times. The door seems surprisingly normal, but among all the silliness it stand out like a soar thumb.

Or a healthy one, in this case.

“New visitor,” the door addresses, because of course it does, “please provide your soul for identification.”

“Alphys...” What the hell is Aofil doing? Arguing with a door? “Alphys knows me, I’m a good friend of hers.”

“Your friend status cannot be found.”

Aofil rolls their eyes and bangs their fist against the door. “Alphys, your door won’t let me in!”

“Violence against passage detected! Deploying...”

The voice shuts down, and Alphys opens the door slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t kno-”

Aofil nods. “Been a while.”

Alphys tilts her head. “Who are you?”

“You got some smudge on your glasses there, Alphys,” Aofil notices.

Alphys fumbles them off her face and surveys the pair through squinted eyes. With a couple of breaths she cleans them off on her shirt. Once she returns her glasses back she recoils. “Aofil!”

“How have you been, Alphys?”

“I-I’ve b-been f-fine. B-but you!”

“Who’re you talking to, Alphee?” screams a voice through the door next to Alphys. “Is it Papyrus? Tell him that I’ll give back his lawn mover when he’s proven that he doesn’t need it anymore!”

“Um, uh,” Alphys stammers as she leans towards the door. “It's Aofil.”

The sound of a shower slows down to a couple of drops, “Never, ever, lie about that, Alphys!” before starting back up again. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Good thing she isn’t lying,” Aofil answers in Alphys’ place. Loud enough so that Undyne will hear.

The shower stops again, but with no more drops. It’s silent for a long while before a curtain is wrestled with from inside the bathroom. “Alphys?”

“Y-yes?”

“Who was that?”

“Not a lie,” Aofil repeats.

Wet footsteps close in on the bathroom door. Alphys takes a step back just in time as the door is flung open. The handle and the lock explode from the frame, and the towel loosely wrapped around Undyne’s hair flies off and hits the wall opposite the hall with a loud splat.

And her jaw hits the floor with an even louder thud.

“I can come back later once you’re done showering,” Aofil proposes while averting their eyes.

Before they have time to react Undyne charges at them. “Oh no you ain’t, punk!” She wraps her arm around Aofil, pushing her towel covered torso against theirs. “You’re staying here until you apologize!”

She bends her knees, “I’m gonna suplex you for every second you abandoned us! I’m gonna slam you so hard it’ll topple Mt. Ebott!” but doesn’t lift Aofil up. She bends her knees again, and squeezes Aofil tighter.

Her grip pushes the air out of Aofil’s lungs. “I’m gonna...”

Aofil manages to push her arms out so that they can breathe. “I’m gonna...”

“It’s okay, Undyne.”

“I,” Undyne throws herself into Aofil. “Where have you been!” she cries. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Aofil returns the hug. The rough scales feels good against their cheek. “Same here, Undyne.”

“Have you,” Undyne quells a sniffle, “Have you at least learned how to fight better?”

“Um...”

“Ngah!” Undyne pushes Aofil away from her. Aofil stumbles, but manages to catch their footing. “Not a phone call, not a message, not anything! And to top it all off, you haven’t even been training! Look at you!”

Aofil can’t see any obvious flaws with their form. “What?”

“You’re just so… Ngah!” Undyne summons a spear and throws it into the kitchen. It explodes against a cast steel pan with a pleasant ding. The pan ricochets off the wall and lands on the kitchen table, barely missing the Mikkarama figure. The figure wakes up and slashes its sword on the pan, again with a pleasant ding.

Undyne’s heavy breathing heaves her entire body up and down rhythmically. Just as Aofil moves a hand forward towards her she swings around. “You!” She spits out the mouthful of hair following her head. “You owe me lunch!” She points to Alphys. “Both of us! And not just any lunch!”

Undyne closes in on Aofil with heavy steps and lips pouted in contracted anger. Her quaking finger stops just a smidge away from Aofil’s eye. “The best damn lunch you can think of!”

“Uh, sure.”

Like a switch the anger from Undyne’s face drains away. A flashy smile takes its place, and she bumps Aofil’s shoulder with her fist. “Then let’s go, Aofil! You can help us buy some new clothes before we eat!”

“U-Undyne?”

Aofil dodges Undyne’s hair as she she turns her head to Alphys. “Yes?”

“Maybe some clothes now?” Alphys proposes with her head angled down.

“Oh,” Undyne realizes, “right. Wait for me then, it’ll just be a minute, nerds.”

She flies up the stairs with eager steps, leaving Alphys and Aofil averting their eyes as her towel falls off halfway up the stairs.

“You have a place in mind, Alphys?” Aofil asks before Undyne has time to get back.

“M-maybe?”

“You want to get some nicer clothes as well? A lab coat isn’t really the best attire for lunch.”

Alphys chuckles awkwardly. “N-not really, no.”

“Oh, and by the way. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“All done, nerds!” Undyne exclaims from the stop of the stairs. She leaps down and lands hard on the floor. It creaks as if in pain, but Undyne pays it no mind. With a raised arm towards the door she summons an eager grin. “Let’s go!”

Alphys glances up to Aofil. “I’ll ask it later,” they reply. “You go fix yourself up.”

Alphys nods and meanders up the stairs. Once out of sight Undyne beckons for Aofil to follow her outside. With a flick of her wrist she summons a spear, and tosses it to Aofil, who barely catches it.

“Be ready!” Undyne summons one for herself. “You’re about to make up for every training session you’ve missed!”

At least there’s grass underneath Aofil this time.


	78. Lucrative lunch

"Uh..."

"We both knew this would happen, Undyne. I'm to blame as well."

The spear in Aofil's hand fades away, and their hand drops down on the grass. They fill their other hand with Undyne's outstretched one, and she helps Aofil up from the grass.

"Sorry about your pants..."

"It's," Aofil notices that it actually is something, "nothing," they still say. They shake their leg and the ripped up strip falls off, exposing their leg from the knee down. "Doesn't look like you hit my skin though. So that’s good.”

“Should I,” Undyne summons a slim spear and rolls it in her hand, “cut the other?” she asks with a reserved finger pointing to Aofil’s fully covered leg. “Even it out?”

Aofil looks down at their pants. They blow their lips trying to decide, “I mean...” but can’t come to a conclusion.

“It’s sunny,” Undyne tries to convince. “I can’t see any clouds. So you won’t be cold or anything.”

Aofil taps their finger against their chin. “It gets a bit chilly after dark.”

“True.”

“But might as well, I guess?” Aofil shrugs. “If the weather allows for it. It’s just for lunch. I can probably get a new pair while we’re in the city.”

“So, shall I?” Undyne angles her spear towards Aofil’s leg.

Aofil nods.

Undyne sheepishly returns the nod. “So, yeah,” and takes a hesitant step forward, “stand still.”

She pokes a hole in Aofil’s other pant leg with her spear, and then neatly shuffles around Aofil. “Lift your other leg,” she asks. Aofil bends their already shortified leg up, and Undyne completes the circle. She slices the tube of jeans in half before snipping it off. She picks it and the other piece up and balls them in her hand.

“You want me to do the same with your arms?”

Absolutely freaking not!

“No,” Aofil summons a smile, “it’s fine.”

Undyne acknowledges with another disbelieving nod. “Right. Good.”

The sound of the front door closing, and the subsequent voice of it informing that it is now alarmed. “Have a nice out of the house experience, Alphys!” follows the yellow lizard meandering down the pathway.

Aofil shrugs a hand towards her, and Undyne nods. They both join Alphys halfway down the pathway.

“So,” Undyne pockets the torn pieces of fabric, “where to, Aofil? Remember, it’s gonna have to make up for all these years, whelp!”

Alphys catches Aofil’s eyes, and with a series of very impressive lettering with her hand, she spells out the name of…

“MTT?”

“No!” Undyne cuts Aofil off. “Not that one.”

“Why not?”

“Oh yeah,” Alphys remembers. “Last time we...”

Undyne puts her hand over Alphys’ mouth. “Not important,” Undyne deflects. “And there are so many others. Pick another!”

Alphys spells out another restaurant.

“I know!” Undyne exclaims before Aofil has time to piece together what Alphys signed for them. “Let’s go to Muffet’s!”

Alphys complains from behind Undyne’s hand. It's too muffled to make out. Undyne removes her hand. “But her prices,” Alphys repeats. “I don’t think she’ll lower them, even for us.”

Undyne leans in none too subtle to Alphys. “Aofil’s paying though,” she whispers none too more subtle. Alphys looks up to Aofil, who shrugs. Can’t be that expensive?

Oh, it is.

“For just one doughnut?” Aofil heart almost falls out of their toes as they see the price written on the chalkboard outside Muffet’s shop.

Undyne shakes her head. “Nah.”

Phew.

“Spider doughnut, not just a doughnut,” she corrects Aofil.

Aofil catches the sweat they dried off and puts it right back on their forehead. This must be a joke, right? Muffet did have a similar price when Aofil met her, but that must’ve been sarcastic, right? All she wanted then was their soul. Oh yeah, hopefully she’s at least dropped that pretense.

A spider with a piece of chalk skitters out from underneath the door and walks up to the board. It jumps up and adds a zero after the Spider cider underneath the doughnut.

Guess not, then…

“You absolutely sure we have to eat here?” Aofil asks Undyne with their arms crossed. Undyne flashes a smile back.

“Should’ve thought about that before you left us, human!” she laughs.

The spider stops adding zeros to the other item on the menu. It leaps up to the top of the chalkboard and stands there for a couple of seconds before swinging down to the ground. It goes through Alphys’ legs and stops underneath Aofil who bends their head down with a pair of raised and uncertain eyebrows.

They flinch as a string is shot up towards their head. The spider hauls itself up and hangs just in front of Aofil’s face. Just as Aofil manages to wrestle their eyes into focusing on the spider it jumps off and scurries into the store. Aofil rubs their eyes as the drastic shift in focus hurts their head.

“Why did it do that?” Undyne ponders with her fingers scratching her lobe.

“You’re the monster,” Aofil reminds, “you tell me.”

Before Undyne can snark back the door bursts open, and an enormous spider charges out. It throws itself onto Aofil who stumbles backward with it in their arms. The spider reaches for Aofil’s face with its mouth and Aofil instinctively throws it away from them.

The spider lands on its feet and charges Aofil again. The stiff hairs on its body swipes Aofil’s exposed legs, stinging them, but not breaking through the skin. With a grumble the spider prepares another charge, but Undyne tackles it before it can flank back towards Aofil.

“Ngah! I thought she had this eight legged mistake under control!” Undyne grunts as she struggles to keep the sporadic spider under control. “It never attacked us before!”

“M-maybe,” Alphys thinks out loud, “b-because Aofil is a...”

“Human!”

Again Aofil stumbles, but this time forwards, as they’re wrapped up in string and dragged into the shop. An even larger spider wraps itself around them with all of her arms. The bow tie on her head is caught in Aofil’s mouth.

“You finally came! Ahuhuhu!” Muffet giggles eagerly. “I know one day you would!”

A circle of normal sized, to Aofil’s enormous relief, spiders rappel down from the ceiling and twirl around Aofil and Muffet.

“Yes,” Aofil agrees while simultaneously trying to wiggle as carefully as they can out of the webbing holding them up. “I’m here!”

A monster that Aofil has never seen before stands up from a chair next to them. It mouths a quiet thanks before running out of the shop with a whimper.

After what seems like an eternity Muffet finally let’s go of Aofil, but with only one pair of arms. “I’m gonna make a special batch just for you, human,” she teases with a poke on Aofil’s nose. After another eternity a spider whispers something in her ear. “Oh,” she realizes, and let’s the rest of her arms off Aofil before heading back into her bakery.

She leaves the webbing on them though, which Aofil is having a bit of trouble getting out of.

“Muffin!” Muffet calls from the bakery. “I need your help!”

Aofil sidesteps the large spider dragging a sputtering Undyne in through the front door. She looses grip when her toes hook on the doorstep, and the spider scurries past the remaining customers, who all jolt back at the sight of it.

“One day,” Undyne mutters. “One day I’ll punt that ball of drool back into the Underground.”

Oh yeah, that’s when Aofil met Muffet. Back when they first went trough the Underground. Although, that was before the reset.

Oh wait...

Shit, Muffet remembers!

Didn’t seem to hurt her though, so maybe Aofil’s lucky? But still, damn. Aofil thought that was done and behind them.

Like they thought the monsters were too…

“Aofil, y-you alright?”

Aofil shakes the thoughts away. “Yeah, I’m just-” and tries to take a step. The webbing around their legs almost has them falling over. “Huh.”

“I can,” Undyne looks down and realizes that she’s still face down on the floor. She jumps up back on her feet, almost hitting Alphys with her hair again. “I can cut you loose. If you want, that is.”

“Yes? Is that even a question?”

Undyne winks towards the humming spider inside the bakery. “She hugged you.”

“S-she did?” Alphys voice cracks from the sheer force question, and she taps her claws, ”I mean, s-she did?”

“Oh yeah, she did! Which gives me an idea, Alphee.”

“I’m still here,” Aofil reminds, but to no effect. “Still wrapped inside this webbing.”

Undyne puts her hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “And for my plan to work Aofil needs to stay like this.”

“So that offer about cutting me loose?” Aofil reminds while trying, and failing, not to sound sarcastic.

“We can order everything on the menu, and not pay a single piece! All you have to do, Aofil, is to...” Undyne pauses for dramatic effect while she leans in towards Aofil with a smile that stretches over her entire face.

“No,” Aofil replies before Undyne can finish.

She retorts with a nod.

“No,” Aofil repeats.

“Spider smooches.” Undyne hangs on every syllable, dragging the words out until they’re as stretched out as her smile. “All of the spider smooches, Aofil.”

“Let me think it over.” Aofil doesn’t. “No!”

“Come on,” Undyne sloshes around dramatically. “Would you rather pay what she’s priced her stuff? Look!” Undyne points to another spider with a piece of chalk making its way outside. “She’s raising them again!”

“Alphys,” Aofil sighs. “Please help me.”

“U-Undyne, why don’t we just eat somewhere else? I can talk to Mettaton and have him lift our ban.”

“Go outside and call him then,” Undyne suggests, “but when the waste of steel eventually says no, we’ll continue with my plan.”

“Oh,” Alphys wasn’t prepared for that answer, “alright.” She whips out her phone from her pocket and steps out of the store.

“Even if Alphee manages,” Undyne’s face sinks into a tired frown. “I still don’t want to eat there. It always leaves a plastic taste in my mouth. Most likely because he actually serves plastic!”

“That may be so, but you know what would leave an even worse taste? Kissing a spider just so that you can eat for free, Undyne!”

Undyne lifts a finger to reply, but she’s interrupted by a metallic crash from the bakery. Her face freezes, and when Aofil turns around to see what might’ve caused it, theirs freezes too.

Six hands quiver in the doorway to the kitchen. Five eyes stare stunned at the wrapped up human. Four cups fall of their plates, and smash against the floor. Three fingers lose strength, allowing the kettle in them to follow the cups. Two lips shake as they try to form words.

And one quiet sob fills the stunned silence in the shop.

With her head hanging low, and her arms swinging like cooked and tired spaghetti, Muffet returns back into her bakery. A small army of smaller spiders emerge from the woodwork to carry the broken porcelain and bent kettle after her.

The shop is quiet, and the rest of the customers takes the opportunity to sneak out as quietly as possible. They all thank Aofil and Undyne on the way out.

“Oh, goosebumps,” Alphys notices on Aofil as she returns into the store. “I’ve read about these. They aren’t hurting, right, Aofil? They’re all over your legs, so hopefully that isn’t the case. It isn’t that cold in here though. Compared to outside, yes, but you didn’t leave? I would’ve noticed if you did. Why did the rest of the customers leave though?”

“Alphys,” Undyne whispers.

“Hm?” Alphys manages to tear her eyes off Aofil’s legs. “Ah, yes. Mettaton promised to lift the ban, b-but,” she wrings her hands together, “y-you have to h-help him with endorsing h-his new fashion line.”

“Yeah, sure,” Undyne answers without hearing what Alphys said. She summons a small spear and cuts Aofil loose. “We should go.”

Aofil rolls their stiff shoulders out now that they can. “I feel like I should apologize to her.”

“And risk her pet biting your freaking face off?”

Aofil glances back at the bakery. Failed attempts to hold back sobs echo from out of it. There’s also a low and angry growling next to it.

Aofil decides that a face saved is better than a saved face, and follows Undyne out the shop.

“Now that that plan’s gone,” Undyne starts after a sigh once they’re all out of charging spider distance. “Alphys, did you manage to convince that squeaky vacuum to let us in again, Alphys?”

“Y-yes.”

“Great!,” Undyne exclaims. Her face immediately turns into a frown as she wonders if it really is that great.

Aofil snaps Undyne out of her thinking with a snap of their fingers. “Is the restaurant far away from here?” they ask Alphys after snapping once again to challenge Undyne’s dare for them to try it one more time.

“H-he said to not worry about walking.”

Aofil wrestles their head out of Undyne’s lock around it. “Is it that close?” Undyne catches it back with a playful chuckle.

“No, it’s on the other side of the c-city.”

“So how do we get there?” Undyne taps on Aofil’s skull with her finger. “Any great ideas in here, Aofil? Besides not listening to my warnings? Ngah!”

Her footsteps halt in place as a screeching sound flies around the corner. She lets go of Aofil and pushes her palms against her forehead while almost throwing her back out as she lunges her head up towards the sky. “Anything but that!”

Before Aofil has time to ask a bright pink and matte black limousine screeches, but this time to a halt, right next to them. Aofil trusts their instincts and takes a step back from the door. A second after it is kicked open by a pink metallic boot. It whirs back into the limousine.

An equally extended hand stops Alphys from taking another step forward towards the car. “The human first,” informs a voice from inside. The hand retracts as well, leaving room for Aofil to get inside.

“You must be Aofil,” Mettaton greets as Aofil carefully steps inside the car. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, human.”

Aofil scoots in a bit so that Alphys and Undyne can get in as well. Undyne closes the door so hard that the handle comes off. She shows it to Mettaton with an innocent smile. “Whoops, my mistake.”

“Mistake alright,” Mettaton mumbles and subsequently ignoring the stare from Undyne. He knocks carefully on the tinted window towards the driver. “To the restaurant, dear.”

“You got it,” comes a muffled response before the limousine takes off in a haste.

“So, human,” Mettaton starts by crossing his legs, “what’s your agent’s number?”

Aofil’s face contorts in confusion. “Agent?”

“Oh,” Mettaton produces a pen from his finger, and a stack of papers from the seat in front of him, “even better.”

“I’m not signing it.”

“Human, darling, don’t be so rash now. It’s just a formality.”

Aofil runs their finger through the mountain of papers. “A formality that killed a tree. I’m not signing it, or anything else, for that matter.”

Mettaton puts his arm over Aofil. “My dearest human.”

Sparks crackle next to Aofil’s ear as Undyne drives a short spear through Mettaton’s arm. “You might need to tinker a bit with Mettaton’s hearing, Alphee. Apparently he can’t hear when someone says no. Remove his entire head while you’re at it!”

“Oh my,” Mettaton fakes dread, “The head of the Royal Guard has once again gone off and attacked an undeserving form of a human,” and returns his crackling arm back to himself. “She’s learned to do it to one in her own size though.”

The spear grows in width, and separates Mettaton’s arm in two. “Good luck pointing fingers at me now,” Undyne growls. She evaporates her spear and sinks down into her seat with her arms crossed.

“U-Undy?” Alphys stammers in fear.

“It’s nothing, Alphee,” she replies while battling her face to stay unfazed. She shoots a glaring look at Mettaton, who’s too busy taking Aofil’s measurement without them noticing. “This toaster has as much impact on me as his acting careers has successes.”

“The only lip I want from you, Undyne love, is them taut in a smile while you’re presenting my new MTT branded fashion line. It doesn’t have to be genuine, but it has to be there if I’m to go through with lifting your ban. If we compare monetary value this is but a drop in the money bucket, dear. I’m extending my hand to you, even though you cut it off.”

Aofil finally realizes the measuring tape around their waist, “Hey!” but Mettaton’s already finished.

“Fashion line? Like hell that I want to wear anything made by you!” Undyne spits out. “I’m pretty sure it would catch fire just like the camera you gave us.”

Mettaton cocks his head in genuine bewilderment. “Then why did you get in the car, dearie? I told Alphee that was my one condition.”

Undyne cocks her head in equal confusion. “When did you say that, Alphee?”

Alphys’ claws tap together nonrhythmically. “I-I did say that to you, U-Undyne. You said y-yes.”

“I did? When?”

“A-after I called Mettaton.”

“You do have to do it more often, Alphee,” Mettaton intersects. “There’s ever so much I want to discuss with you, sweetie.”

“I was busy preparing for Muffet or her pet to lunge out at us! I’ve never seen her that upset before, who knew what she would’ve done? She jumps into Aofil’s arms, and then she overhears them saying that she’s disgusting.”

“It’s not what I said,” Aofil corrects.

“It’s what she heard, Aofil!” Undyne shouts over Alphys’ head. “And trust me, I’ve had to deal with her for far less than that.”

“Muffet?” Mettaton asks with a curios knuckle under his chin. “How is that adorable arachnid doing? I really must try and get some of her confectionery for my restaurant.” His head moves robotically to Aofil. “You said she jumped into Aofil’s arms, Undy?”

“Judging by the last time you hired Muffet…” Undyne mumbles with clenched teeth.

“You want to fill her in on that, Alphee?” Mettaton asks with a plastered smile.

A speaker mounted on the roof informs with a muffled voice. “We’ll be arriving in a short while, M.”

“For as much as I love to bring up old memories, Undyne, I’d love more an answer,” Mettaton says while cheeking his face in the mirror on the back of the seat in front of him.

“No, I’m not gonna get within a spear length of you or your fashion!”

Mettaton sighs dramatically, “What a shame,” as the car stops. The door Undyne’s leaning her back on is opened, and she falls out onto a red carpet. Mettaton opens his door and basks in the camera flashes firing off in rapid succession.

“My dears! My darlings! My everythings!” he greets the crowd outside. “Thank you all so much for joining me this day for this marvelous event! The new collection of MTT fashion is within your grasps, and to show how much like me you will, maybe, be, I have with me the one and only,” Mettaton knocks on the top of the car and it speeds away, “Undyne!”

Aofil and Alphys can only watch through the back window as Undyne stands up with a spear forming in her hand. Mettaton leans in quick to her, and after a second the spear in Undyne’s hand disappears.

“Oh n-no!” Alphys grips her tail and holds it tight. She looks to Aofil for an answer, but they know just as much as she does.

After a minute or so the car eventually slows down. Aofil tries to open the door, but it’s locked. They knock on the window to the driver. “The doors?” they ask.

They hear the driver door open and the lock on their own door disengaging.

“Yoooo!”

Aofil narrows their eyes. “MK?”

Standing in a suit, with his chin on the top of the door, MK’s smile widens until it almost tears his cheeks apart. “Teacher! Wow!”

“Wow, indeed,” Aofil agrees while helping Alphys out of the car. MK closes the door behind her and almost bounces up in the air with glee.

“And Alphys! Wow! I’ve been driving you two?”

“Yeah, apparently you have. Listen, what’s Mettaton’s plan with Undyne?”

MK’s eyes expand until they almost knock over his hat. “Undyne too? Where is she?”

“You dropped her off a minute or so ago.” Aofil points up the road. “She and Mettaton.”

MK pauses for a minute to think. The protruding scales on his back tenses the fabric at the basis of them while he thinks with his head lowered. He shoots up after a couple of seconds. “Is she gonna be modeling? Maybe I should ask if Radentim could persuade an autograph from Undyne.”

His head lowers back into thinking. “But then, why are you two here?”

“Um, you tell us?” Aofil asks, very much eager to hear the answer.

MK nods to a door. “That one leads to backstage, as M likes to call it. I’m guessing because you two are also gonna be modeling? He told me to drop off his guests here.”

“M-modeling?” Alphys repeats with a squeal of fear. She looks down at herself, and her tail again finds her hands.

The door opens and a monster with a clipboard halfheartedly waves Aofil and Alphys in. “Radentim session with Undyne, come on.”

MK taps on Aofil’s shoulder with his tail. “Yoo, teacher. It’s good to see you again. Are you gonna move here from your city?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Cool! I still know the cloud trick, by the way!”

“Really? That’s nice of you.”

MK is forced to abandon it halfway as a voice starts talking in his ear. “Again? Even quicker? Yes, M. I’m on my way, M,” he responds. “Sorry, boss called,” he apologizes with his face still red from the failed cloud. He jumps back into the car, and wiith a slick three point turn he flies back up the alley he came from.

Aofil nods. That’s some impressive driving.

Wait… No! Damn it!

Aofil forgot to ask how MK can drive!

“Hey! We’re on a schedule here!” shouts the impatient monster from the doorway.“Let’s go! M will have my paycheck if you’re not there in time!”

“A-Aofil...” Alphys begs.

Maybe next time Aofil will remember to ask…

“Yeah, we’re on our way...”

The corridor the monster takes Aofil and Alphys through is filled with commotion. Clothes are flung from room to room, and Aofil is bumped on more than one occasion. The monster leading the way pays it no mind. His clipboard seems to be his only focus. He doesn’t even look up from it as he opens a door for Aofil and Alphys, “In here,” and closes it behind them instantly. Aofil can hear him shouting just outside the door.

On a chair in front of a mirror sits Undyne, her one hand squeezing the leather on the chair, and the other holding a crumpled photograph. Obscenities flow from her mouth like a ferocious river through her gritted teeth.

Alphys approaches her slowly.

“A-are you alright?” she asks carefully.

“I knew that camera he gave us was rigged. I knew it!”

Alphys catches a glimpse of the photograph in Undyne’s hand. She puts her hands up to her face, and turn to Aofil with it blossoming bright red. Aofil catches a glimpse of it as well, and their face blossoms as well as they see what it’s from.

The adult anime the three of them stumbled upon.

“Yeah,” Undyne says, destroying the photograph in her hand in a fizzle of magic. “I’m gonna smash it when we get home, Alphee. I don’t care if it’s just ash now. I’m gonna find a way!”

Aofil decides not to let on that they saw it. They wonder how in the world Undyne managed to get into that small of a dress though.

Maybe it’s not too bad to ask?

They don’t have time too, as Mettaton opens the door beaming with joy and energy. “Darlings! So glad to have you all here! Radentim should be with you shortly, but first I’d like to introduce to you your fourth model.”

He steps aside, and with his hand and head bowed he welcomes inthe fourth one.

“Human!”

Oh god no.

“Yes, Muffet,” Mettaton reaffirms, “that is indeed the human. Like I said, Aofil is really hurtful over their actions and words. So much so that they want to reconcile with you. Isn’t that right, Aofil? Show us what’s in your back pocket.”

Back pocket?

Aofil pats it, and feels that there’s something in it. They pull out a pink and black ticket. They almost immediately drop it as Muffet’s gasp startles them.

“Human? For me?” she asks before leaping into Aofil’s arms again. “Thank you!”

Aofil struggles their arm out so that they can read the card.

“A romantic date for two as payment?” Mettaton asks. “Oh, Aofil darling, how sweet of you. And here I thought that you convincing me to call Muffet to make a buffet was so that I could get a good price for an order. Darling, you’re such a tease.”

His smug self congratulation fills the room like a thick blanket, but Mettaton marches through with no regards or care about it.

“Aofil also told me that you would want to look your best, and that they would too, and I happily agreed. You’ll both be dining in the latest of MTT fashion overlooking the show.”

“We just need to sign...” Aofil starts.

“You just need to sign these papers,” Mettaton interrupts, presenting once again the stack of papers to Aofil. “It’s just a non disclosure agreement, or in layman terms,” he clicks the pen dragged out from his finger, “just a formality.”


	79. A web of thoughts

"A waiter will be along with you shortly, darlings."

Mettaton hangs his eyes on the spider and human he's so perfectly dressed for this occasion. He fans himself as the magnificence of his creation smiles back at him. Not necessarily its wearers.

"Oh," he flusters, humbled by his own magnificent designs, "I am such a genius,” before leaving Muffet and Aofil alone on one of the many balconies overlooking the huge diner hall. The amount of monsters and humans below, and above them, is staggering. Aofil and Muffet has a prime spot overlooking the ground floor, and the stage.

A house band consisting of different ghosts are setting the mood with some smooth jazz. How a ghost can use a saxophone without lungs is beyond Aofil, but the ghost is keeping the notes, so they can’t really complain.

Aofil peers over the sea of monsters and humans below them. None of them rings any bells at a glance. None of the Dreemurrs are there. No skeletons either. Aofil thinks they see Tylior, but the monster sitting next to that human is not Sevoltne. Wrong color for it to be her.

And speaking of sea...

An aquarium acting as a wall opposite of the balconies bathes the grandiose room in light blue. The water is filled with aquatic monsters of various sizes and shapes. A couple of Aarons are adding the finishing touches on the submerged stage. Gonna be interesting to see how the water collection will be presented. Will Undyne be presenting there?

Can she even breathe underwater? Or is Aofil being racist again? Better not to assume and instead wait for her. She looked pretty pissed when Aofil left her with Radentim. The worst that might happen is that she and Mettaton will get into a fight during the show. It would be very interesting to see that happen though. So again, Aofil can’t complain.

Aofil spots what they think is a human inside the water, and with no scuba gear. Weird… They pick up a pair of ornate binoculars on a thin metal stick and narrow their eyes to get a better look.

It’s just their own reflection.

Fair enough.

“Ahuhuhu!” Muffet giggles as she tugs and explores her new dress. Dark red with a purple spider web laced across the entire fabric in a reflective yarn. The web glitters in the blue light, making it look like it’s sprinkled with crystals.

Her bow tie is very much a crystal, but bent in a way that reminds Aofil of Asgore’s garden. How it’s molded in a way that has to be magic.

Aofil looks down and sees Mettaton’s face sprawled over their chest. The jacket they were give is better described as a pair of arms held together by a back part. It seems to be designed to expose whatever undershirt the wearer is using, and right now it’s Mettaton’s face and body in a whirlwind of sparkles and hearts. It’s also two sizes too small for Aofil, and they tuck at it to try and relax the tense fabric. They have to be careful in their movement so that it doesn’t fall off and expose their arm.

Muffet notices and puts a hand over her mouth. “You’re making Mettaton into spaghetti.”

“Well, he should’ve thought about that before he insisted that it was my size.”

At least Aofil is their own gender after Radentim this time.

The drape separating the balcony from the corridor rustles, and a sharply dressed monsters enters. It bows with one head while the other refills Aofil and Muffet’s glasses with water.

“Good evening, and welcome to MTT Surface. It will be my pleasure to serve you this spectacular evening. M told me to sends his blessings in form of a wine recommendation and a message,” the left head starts.

“Drinks and food are on him this evening, as per the contract you signed,” finishes the right head.

A surprised Aofil looks over to Muffet, and then back at the waiter. “Oh?”

“Yes, and he also recommends the ‘King’s Cellar’ this fine evening. A smooth red with a hint of soul and glam. Stored next to the fallen humans during the time of our imprisonment, the ‘King’s Cellar’ goes well with any form of red meat and or spider cheese.”

“It does,” Muffet nods. “Or, so I’ve heard...”

“Is that a yes from you too?” the right head asks Aofil, who’s eyes narrow.

“Just a couple of questions.”

“Of course,” the left head allows.

Aofil smacks their lips. “Asgore stored it next to the dead humans?”

A muffled yelp emerges from the right head. It taps on its left head and whispers something in it’s ear.

The left one’s eyes widen. “Oh no, you’re right. It is a human!” it stage whispers back.

“No, it’s not because of that,” the left one tries to explain while constantly looking to the right head for advice. “I-It’s because, um?”

Aofil leans back with their hands clamped over their stomach. This outta be good.

“L-look, I just work here. I didn’t write these descriptions.”

“And then Mettaton stole the bottles from Asgore when he wasn’t looking?” Aofil pries further.

“I… He...”

The two headed monster looks to Muffet for any help, and she moves her head to Aofil.

“Bring us a bottle, please. Who am I to deny his recommendation?” Aofil asks, feeling some pity form for the waiter. “I’ll have a talk with him about the description though.”

The monster bows its two heads. “T-thank you.”

“And an order of garlic bread, please,” Aofil adds.

“Yes, yes,” the right head scribbles down the order.

“Anything f-for you?” the left one asks Muffet.

“Oh,” she picks up the menu and eyes through the first page of the menu. “Maybe some spider cheese, perhaps? Crystal Cave stored, if you have.”

“Certainly,” the right head nods, “I’ll be back in a short while.”

Before the red velvet drape can settle behind the monster after it leaves, an audible sigh is heard through it. Aofil shakes their head and meets Muffet. “I thought that any mention of the fallen children was frowned upon. Gotta have a word with Mettaton about that.”

“I’ve always wanted to try that wine...” Muffet admits while averting her eyes from Aofil.

“I’m sure it’s good, it’s just that I don’t really know why Mettaton would describe it with the fallen humans. Strange.”

“I’d rather not talk about them, or the trial.”

“Me neither, actually. So, instead, why not talk about, let’s see.” Aofil searches their mind. There’s one thing they really want to know, but it’s risky. They’ll have to be careful with what they ask.“After we met in the Underground, Muffet.”

Her cheeks blush brighter than her dress. “I remember.”

“When did you surface afterwards?”

“When my request for my bakery was granted.” Muffet leans on two of her knuckles. “You humans have such wonderful machines for baking.”

“They’re made for two arms, so you having six must be very efficient.”

“Yes!” Muffet nods. “And the ingredients I can use. It’s so much easier not to wait for spices to fall down the Garbage Dump. I don’t have to convince others to let me have them, I can just order them myself.”

“Don’t have to use souls in your baking anymore?”

“No.”

Aofil nods approvingly. “Good. Sounds like you’ve adapted to the Surface quite well. Do you get a lot of human customers?”

“There aren’t many living in Monster City.” Muffet leans out and surveys the tables below her. “There are more here in the restaurant than there are living permanently in the city.”

“Any that visits you?”

“No,” Muffet’s eyes lose focus, and sink down, “they don’t.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to keep my promise,” Aofil apologizes with a hand caressing their chin. “And I’m sorry about what I said.”

“I thought you would be there during my opening. I had my spiders carry fliers all over the city. The bakery was jam packed. Ahuhuhu. So many monsters, so many doughnuts. But you weren’t there. Then I thought you would be there when the Above School opened. I knew you were the teacher during the Dreemurrs stay in the Ebott city, so I thought you would move here to teach. And then when I had my one year anniversary. After that I started to question if you ever made that promise. Now that I think back at it, it feels like you didn’t? But I also remember you promising.”

Aofil decides that it’s time. Muffet’s memories are wide open to her. It’s not something Aofil wants to ask, but they have to. They have to at least try to learn how it all works, and if it might connect to their curse.

Aofil refills Muffet’s glass, and takes a deep breath. “Muffet. I have to ask you something. It’s important.”

Her eyes widen, and not too subtly, she adjusts her bow tie and dress. “Yes, human?”

“How do you feel remembering all of this? When thinking back to when we met, how does it feel to you?”

Muffet moves back in her chair. “I, I don’t understand what you mean, human.”

“Do you feel like your head is clouded when thinking back? Like you’re being torn between two memories?”

“I, I don’t know?”

Argh! How can Aofil formulate it so that she understands? They can’t tell her why, that would shatter this bubble they’re trying to carefully poke. Why does she remember to being with? That’s the question! How to ask it? Damn it!

“H-human?” Muffet asks carefully.

“After we met,” Aofil prays that they remember the order of events correctly, “Mettaton captured a human. He televised it live, do you remember?”

Muffet searches her mind. “Yes, I think so. It was a long time ago.”

“Yes, I know, but it’s important that you remember. Before we met there was a show on air as well, right?”

“Yes?”

“Think about that, the show, us meeting, and then the second show. How does it feel to you?”

Muffet eyes narrow in hesitation.

“Please,” Aofil puts their hands together. “It’s really important to me that you do this.”

“If you say so.” Muffet closes her eyes, and Aofil leans forward to observe her. At first it seems fine. She tilts her head a couple of times, but her expression is still hesitant. “Human, I...”

Her head jerks in thought, and her lips curl back, confused. “N-no,” she whispers. “That’s not how it went!” She pauses. “Or did it?” she asks with her quivering tongue. Her voice trails off as she mumbles inconsistently to herself. “But then? How? No, that’s not possible.”

Aofil can’t snap her out of it, not now. She needs to go further, Aofil needs to understand.

“H-human?” Muffet whimpers. “W-what’s happening? How did we meet? Did we meet? I remember, but there’s something else in the way. I was baking for the human tour, I know it. I still have the order.”

Her face distorts back and forth between understanding and utter bewilderment. Aofil recognizes it, they’re far too familiar with it. She’s searching her mind, but she’s lost on two paths simultaneously. It’s not supposed to be a fork in the road when trying to remember, and she’s struggling to make a choice. But how can she when both are equally valid? How can she choose a truth?

Answer is, she can’t, and she’s panicking because of it. It’s not enough though, Aofil can’t help her back, not yet. She’s not too far in. She’ll make it...

“You never met me! You never made a promise!” Muffet clutches her head with two of her hands. “Yes, you did meet me! You made a promise!”

And then with four. “I couldn’t bake, I was with you!.”

And finally, with six. “But I couldn’t be with you, I was baking!”

Why is she struggling, but not Mettaton? Why was the builder struggling, but not the suit? Why one, and not the other? What’s the connection? There has to be one! Some form of clue has to be revealed. Otherwise Muffet is hurting for nothing.

Can Aofil force one memory over the other? Is it possible?

“Muffet, I was there with you,” Aofil fuels. She clutches her head harder between her hands. “Does that clear it up?”

“How? I can’t understand.”

Aofil sighs, apparently not.

“I had flour all over me,” Muffet spurts. “B-but I remember my dress. You leaned over. I had flour on my cheek, why didn’t you brush it away before...”

Wait. Is that it? Is the connection, just connection? Is it that simple? No, it can’t be, can it? The builder… He…He promised Aofil’s dad. The suit, was just doing their job. Mettaton, is Mettaton.

Muffet though? It was just a peck on her cheek. Or was it more for Muffet?

Muffet buries her claws into her head. “Human!” she weeps. “It hurts!”

Just a little more, Aofil just needs a little more time to be sure. They’ll pull her out of it if it goes overboard, they promise.

“Human!” she cries.

Just a little more.

“My head!”

Damn it! Aofil can’t watch her any more. They walk around the table to her and grabs a pair of her arms. “Muffet,” they try, but not getting through to her. Did they wait too long?

“Muffet!” Aofil tries again, harder this time. They drag away her hands from her head, and holds them in place. She’s shaking, almost violently. Aofil removes another pair of quivering arms. “It’s me, Muffet. The human.”

“Human?” she asks, regaining control over her eyes. They slow down underneath her eyelid, and she opens her eyes slowly. “Human?” she asks again.

Aofil nods. “Yes, it’s me.”

“W-where are we? This is...” she looks around her, petrified. “This isn’t my home. Where is Muffin?”

God damn it! Why was Aofil so greedy? “We’re at Mettaton’s restaurant, Muffet,” they try to reason, helping her find a way back. “Look at your dress.”

She jolts back as she looks down, “What’s this?!” and hits the low wall around the balcony. Aofil catches one of her arms and pulls her back. They ease her back into her seat with care.

“Is this his show?” she asks. “No, it’s over.” She shakes her head. “No, it’s about to begin.”

“Muffet, you’re not in the Underground, you’re on the Surface.”

But it doesn’t work. Aofil’s reasoning doesn’t work! What have they done? Is she lost forever?

What did Aofil do with Toriel when she fell back? Snails? No, it can’t be snails. What did Aofil do? Argh! It was so long ago!

They… they told her what taste the snails were. Yeah, so it was the snails. What did it mean to her? What can Aofil do to Muffet to help her? What did Aofil do with Muffet?

They had some tea with her, they pet her dog, and then they…

Oh…

Aofil leans in towards Muffet, and kisses her on the cheek. She stops, frozen. Aofil tries again.

“Human...” Muffet’s voice is steady again. Aofil releases her hands, and she brings one up to her cheek. She touches it, and it blossoms bright red. “Ahuhuhu,” she giggles.

Aofil heaves a relieved sigh. It worked. They’re so glad it did. They take their own seat again. “How’re you feeling, Muffet?”

She glances over to Aofil, but she can only hold eye contact for a moment before she loses her compulsion, and hides her face behind her hands.

Just like that. Gone. No signs of her having any form of crisis. No convulsions about what is real, no nothing. Aofil drinks some water. How will they ever figure this out?

God damn, what a mess.

The drape embroiled with Mettaton’s face wearing a chef’s hat is dragged aside, and the waiter returns with a pristine bottle of wine along with two plates. One with Aofil’s appetizer, and the other with Muffet’s cheese. “Crystal Cave stored, as requested,” the waiter informs as he gently places the plate in front of Muffet.

She takes in the smell of the mineral shaped block of cheese scored to resemble a spider web. “Very good,” she compliments.

“And for the human, the garlic bread.”

It’s half a loaf with a line of unpeeled garlic cloves in it.

Aofil blinks, and an “OK?” slips out from their speech stolen tongue.

The sound of the cork from the bottle popping open distracts Aofil from their disappointment of an appetizer. With a twist and a flair, the waiter serves both Aofil and Muffet the supposed soul infused wine. Aofil gives their glass a swirl, and their nose a quick whiff of the wine.

Doesn’t smell like dead humans. Smells more like a nice blend between honey, fruit, and a hint of chocolate.

Aofil samples the wine, and concluded that it tastes the same as it smells. Hold on, there’s something else. Aofil sloshes the sample around in their mouth. Something else is there. Something… bitter.

A thick and unpleasantly warm feeling runs up their arm.

Aofil places the glass down quickly and pats themselves, but their pills are nowhere to be found.

Shit…

“How’s the wine?” the left head asks patiently. Their condescending stare is uncalled for though and… No, that’s Aofil’s curse talking, they gotta keep focus.

“It’s,” Aofil clears their throat as it thickens, “good. It’s fine.”

“Does it pair well with the cheese?” asks the left head to Muffet. It’s smile plastered like it’s suffering from lockjaw…

Dammit! Focus!

Muffet can’t answer, she’s too busy enjoying the combination. The waiter takes it as a yes, and bows. “It pleases us that you enjoy it.”

Double the mouths, double the ass kissing.

No! Focus! Keep it together!

“Would the human like to taste?” suggest the left head.

“No,” Aofil hawks away the growl present in their voice. “I’m good.”

“Human?” Muffet begs with eyes ever so pleading and soft. Just waiting to drag Aofil closer before she springs the trap and webs them up so that she can extort them by forcing Aofil her stupidly high prices. No doughnut is that good!

Aofil puts a hand up to their forehead. Not good.

With a last hit of a cymbal, the room goes quiet as the music stops. The chatter crawls to a halt, and hushes replace it for a short while before the room becomes completely silent. The lights dim, and the shadows and ripples from the aquarium become more potent around the room.

A spotlight flashes to life, and dances around the restaurant.

“Darlings, and more darlings,” Mettaton announces from the myriad of speakers sprinkled across the room. “Welcome to a most wonderful evening, an evening full of me, and my creations.”

The spotlight switches color to a screaming pink as it continues to flow around the walls and ceiling.

“As you all know,” Mettaton continues, “I work tirelessly to bring you all the most glamorous of products. Today is no different, but today also marks a new day for fashion. A new day for glamour. A new day, for me, to serve you, to come just a little bit closer to perfection. To come just a little bit closer...”

The spotlight stops, and in that moment, Aofil notices something out of the corner of their eye. A small flutter in the drape.

Aofil shakes their head. “No...”

The spotlight bursts to life, and with pinpoint accuracy, it throws itself towards a specific balcony.

Aofil puts up their other hand to shield their eyes from the bright light.

The drape is pulled aside, and Mettaton steps into the spotlight. The light reflects and scatters across the restaurant, awing the entire crowd. “To me!” he ends dramatically, and with an equally dramatic pose.

God. Fucking. Dammit.


	80. At least we strung the show

"Our first exhibition!"

Mettaton's extended arm reaches across Aofil's shoulders. The metal sections of his arm chaff against Aofil's exposed neck, like a cheese grater. He grabs Aofil’s furthest shoulder and gently tries to convince Aofil towards him. When Aofil stays put, Mettaton tries again, this time with a bit more convincing behind his tug.

Still with his winning smile he mouths a reminder to Aofil, “Contract!” while moving his microphone away from his own mouth. He tugs at Aofil’s shoulder a third time, but Aofil couldn’t care less.

A subtle but still noticeable twitch tilts Mettaton’s head. His smile changes ever so slightly, and he retracts his arm. “Our first wondrous model is this wonderful human,” he continues. As the camera tilts up Mettaton kicks away the chair from underneath Aofil. He catches them before they hit the ground, and pushes them up next to him where he locks them in place. His arm wraps around Aofil just out the view of the camera and the surrounding balconies.

Mettaton bends over and runs his free hand on Aofil’s shirt. “Made from the highest quality of human created fabric, and donned with yours truly most truly magnificent and glamorous visage. This garment screams Surface professional. A blend of human and monster. Fuse the two together this very week as it launches in all MTT branded fashion operations the country over, and under, for those of you darlings joining in from the Underground.”

Aofil’s getting really sick of the amount of times they’ve been wrapped up today. Can’t struggle out of this either, Mettaton only squeezes harder. If anything he’s holding back the pulses from their arm. Whatever slim positive that is.

“And complementing my generous share of the fabulous star power, that is me, is this year’s hottest trendsetter. From the mind of the greatest designer, voted all years by the MTT fashion conglomerate, me, comes the perfect piece to complete all you at home puzzling about what to wear.”

Mettaton releases Aofil ever so slightly, and an avalanche of sick rushes from their arm throughout their body. They grunt as it spreads, feeling light headed. Mettaton can’t have any of that though, so before Aofil manages to bend their stomach to contain their sick, he pushes his hand against their spine to straighten Aofil out.

Mettaton lifts up Aofil’s fur covered arm up to exhibit the leather sleeve. “This here, my lovelies, is what you’ve all been waiting for. A jacket for your arms! A glorious, and dare I say it, brilliant piece of craftsmanship to complete your puzzle of what to wear.”

Aofil feels the fur scrape against the leather. It’s coming off! They jerk their arm out of Mettaton’s hand. For a brief second Mettaton’s face slips, and he shoots a look towards Aofil. Aofil returns it, but before the camera can refocus, Mettaton spins Aofil around.

“All shirts and underpieces from this year’s collection are meticulously designed to accommodate for this new trend of jackets, my dear viewers. As you can see, you will never risk obscuring my beautiful visage. Non believers, and other lesser scum, have already dared question me about why I would ever release an autumn collection that doesn’t provide any heat management. I pity those, for they are weak of mind, they don’t understand the amount of effort and thought behind these clothes. You’ll never risk running cold.”

Mettaton throws Aofil back into their seat as he strikes a pose for the camera. “Because you’ll always be the hottest person around!”

The restaurant explodes in a roar of applause and cheering. It sounds suspiciously like it’s coming from the speakers littered all around the restaurant, but Aofil is too hunched over in pain to check.

“Moving on!” Mettaton cheers. “To all you lovelies that know that perfection is Mettaton, and that Mettaton’s dresses dresses just as a spider spins silk. And speaking of spiders, allow me to introduce my next exhibit!”

Muffet waves to the camera while Mettaton positions himself. He offers her a hand, and helps her up on her feet when she accepts it. She spins her around, her dress sparkling like stars on a cloudless night.

The entire room heaves a collective awe, and Aofil has to suppress the envious thought asking why they didn’t receive the same praise.

Mettaton sighs deeply. “My dear and wonderful, thanks to me,” Mettaton adds quickly without missing a beat. “Muffet, if it weren’t for me or the rest of my collection, you would be the brightest star present. How the silk flows over your body, how it’s pattern brings the eye to where it should be. A dress to impress, and impress you do.”

He drags Muffet close to him, holding her arms tightly against his chest. With his other hand he strokes her hair, causing interference through the microphone he’s holding. “And the crystal holding up the silkiness of your hair that almost rivals the quality of my design.”

Mettaton leans Muffet down into his arm, tilting the back of her head up to the camera. “Chosen by our well founded and educated MTT crystal experts, and hand picked from the deepest nooks of the Crystal Cave, MTT invites you to shine bright like a diamond, wherever you are. Crystals of all sizes and shapes will be available, but make your reservations quickly.”

Mettaton bows as the sound of applause again roars. He eases a giggling and blushing Muffet down into her chair, and kisses her hand.

Why is Aofil feeling envious? This isn’t normal, what’s happening with them?

Mettaton notices, and a faint smirk engages his lips. “So, my dear darlings,” he says while reaching for Aofil. Their sick is too much for them to fight back, and they hope Mettaton doesn’t squeeze too hard. He doesn’t, but he’s firm enough that Aofil has to follow his lead to Muffet.

“Human,” Mettaton presents to the camera, “and monster.” He picks Muffet up again. “Two worlds, joined together. First in society, and now, more importantly, through fashion, and even more importantly,” Mettaton brings the two together, forcing the one to embrace the other. Aofil barely manages to hold their sick back as they half crash into Muffet, “joined in fashion, by me. And now!”

None too subtly, Mettaton presses Aofil’s and Muffet’s heads together. “On with the show!”

Aofil’s lips are pressed against Muffet’s burning cheek. Good thing they didn’t hit her lips. Mettaton’s silent “Humpf!” tells a different story. He sneakily smacks the side of Aofil’s head so that their lips slants off Muffet’s cheek. He applauds, and the stage below explodes with confetti.

Mettaton poses for the camera, and Aofil takes the opportunity to stumble away while clutching their stomach and arm. They take support against the wall outside the balcony, and tries desperately to control their breathing. It was just a small sip of wine, it shouldn’t be this bad. Mettaton isn’t helping in any way, shape, or form. Is it him? Is it Muffet?

The drape behind them flutters, and Muffet peeks her head out worryingly. She grips and twists the velvet in her hand. “H-human?” she asks. Seeing Aofil hunched over, barely containing themselves. She looks down, and with another hand she strokes her cheek carefully.

Aofil struggles to turn around, but Muffet gives them a determined look before bolting back out to the balcony. What’s she doing?

The speakers go quiet after an inquisitive hum from Mettaton. A second or so after, the microphone hits the ground loudly, and the drapes come crashing down.

“Darling! Muffet, what are you doing?”

A varying number of limbs punch and fumble their way out of the wrapped up red fabric. Muffet finds her way out of the bundle first, and she drags out a wrapped up Mettaton out of it. With a stare she spins him around to face Aofil. “What did you do to them, M?”

Mettaton extends his neck so that the camera can’t spot Aofil. “Beside making them fantastic beyond their own imagination?”

Muffet’s eyes narrow, hard. She tucks at the string connecting to Mettaton with all her might. His body falls, but his head stays the same level. Although his head is smiling at the camera, his hands are waving around in anger to Muffet.

She points an angry finger, and pushes the rest of her knuckles steadily against her sides. Mettaton’s body turns around, and search for a chin that isn’t there. Instead he taps on his own shoulders.

“Now, allow me to list the very long collection that will unfortunately not join us this wonderful evening. Fear not though, my sweet babies and loves, they will still be available for purchase!”

Coming to no clear consensus with Mettaton’s body, Muffet wraps him up tighter, and drags him with stubborn steps. Mettaton swings his neck around so that the camera points the other way.

“What did he do, human?” Muffet asks, tugging against Mettaton’s futile attempts to flee. Mettaton pleads to Aofil, or at least, his hands does. His head is still busy listing his collection.

“I’m,” Aofil puts a hand up to their mouth, “He...”

But they can’t form a sentence, it’s too risky.

“Was it the food?” Muffet asks.

Aofil didn’t have any. They shake their head.

“Or was it...” Muffet’s grip loosens on Mettaton. With a couple of violent spins he breaks loose from the webbing and rushes back to his head to strike a pose. Muffet looks down on the torn up strings, and back up to Aofil. She touches her cheek again, “me?”

No it wasn’t! You stupid dense spider! Aofil clutches their head. Dammit! Another wave.

“Are you feeling this because of me?” Muffet asks quietly. Her eyes move down her dress. “I thought...”

“It’s,” Aofil forces out despite tethering on the edge of vomiting, “not you. I’m allergic to...”

But their sick is too strong for Aofil to hold in. They dive their head into a nearby pot plant. Muffet stares in fear as Aofil heaves heavily. Her eyes explode in rage after the second heave, and she rolls up the sleeves on her arms. “The wine! The humans!”

“And that concludes the letter ‘A’!” Mettaton proudly announces. “Now onto-”

Aofil hears the speaker above them muffle, and as they catch a break from their heaving, they turn their head towards the silent commotion.

They catch just the barest of a glimpse of Mettaton being hauled in a silky cocoon out of the balcony entrance. His feet jiggle around before he’s hauled up towards the restaurant ceiling. The collective gasp of confusion and fear fills Aofil’s ear, but another sound drowns it out immediately.

A laugh. A guffaw. A very familiar sound of spiteful giggling.

“You sparkle like a pompous chandelier! Is being wrapped up like a hunk of punk junk part of your collection?” shouts Undyne before descending into another fit of sharp chortles. Where is she? On the stage? How loud can she make herself?

The speaker muffles complaints and protests, but that only intensifies Undyne’s howls of insults and laughs.

Muffet descends from atop the balcony frame. Aofil can’t help but feel very uncomfortable seeing her crawl like an actual spider, but that could also be that another wave is on its way. She drops down and disengages the string attached to her and the frame. How she does it Aofil will never ask. Muffet lands on two feet, thankfully, and rushes over to Aofil. “Human?”

Aofil motions for her to back up a bit. “Don’t want to stain you or your dress,” they joke before going back to the pot.

Muffet hesitates to stop, and does so while rubbing her hands. “Can I help?”

“Water.”

She nods, and heads out to the balcony again. The speaker muffles something, but Muffet ignores it. She returns with Aofil’s glass and the can of water. “Here, human.”

Aofil drinks greedily. “More.”

Muffet fills it quickly, almost as if it's second nature to her.

Aofil can’t help but crack a smile. “Refiling sits in the wrist?”

Muffet nods with a giggle. “It’s my job.”

A couple more glasses later Aofil feels that they’ve soothed as much as they can. Drinking more would only make them uncomfortable from too much water sloshing around in their stomach. They request an arm from Muffet, and she hands one to help. Aofil’s feeling very light headed. “Can you help me find Alphys?”

Muffet helps Aofil up, still with the can in one of her hands. She’s got plenty of arms to spare, so why not keep it just in case? With Aofil leaning as little they can against her, the two of them make their way down the corridor.

“Do you know where she is?” Muffet asks. “Maybe backstage?”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods, “that’s my thinking. Don’t know how to get there though. What with Mettaton blindfolding us while taking us up here.”

The two sidestep a small crowd of monsters in a hurry with a large ladder running towards the busted balcony. The clipboard monster from before follows the crowd, still with its nose down deep into the board. “Hurry up! M needs to start the show! He’ll have our jobs if we don’t shut up Undyne as well!”

Aofil waves their hand in front of the clipboard. They don’t seem to catch the monster’s attention, so they carefully bend down the clipboard. They’re met with a burning glare that’s screams murder. “Yeah, hello, we need to get backstage.”

“And I need to do my job,” the monster hisses back before realizing who the ones that rudely interrupted him are. “You!” the monster points. “What you’ve done is a breach of contract! A formidable one as well!”

God dammit, of all monsters to run into. Aofil tries to figure out a way to convince the monster, but before they can begin to think, Muffet grabs the clipboard with a steadfast hand.

She throws it in the air and leaves it dangling on a string just out of the monster’s reach. “You either tell us where we can get backstage, or you call for the ladder to come back.”

The monster watches in fear as the crowd he commands sets up the ladder on the balcony. The speakers above muffles a cheer, and the restaurant begins to applaud. The applauds fade as the ladder begins to shake. Down it rushes a monster with a hardhat swaying back and forth as it sprints towards Muffet and Aofil. “What’s the code for the chandelier alarm, chief?”

The clipboard spins slowly above the two panicked monsters. “It’s on the clipboard...” whimpers the chief.

Another hard hat wearing monster comes rushing down the hall. “Chief! We need you! M is trying to say something!”

The chief clutches his head, “Argh! Use the elevator! Press and hold the basement floor for three seconds, and then release for two before pressing again!” and takes off towards the balcony.

Muffet summons a friendly smile, “Thank you,” and continues with Aofil down the corridor.

Aofil looks over their shoulder. “The clipboard?”

Muffet covers her mouth with a daintily hand. “Ahuhuhu. I’ve already breached my contract, so...”

Aofil joins in her chuckle. “They do have a ladder, right? Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Fufufufu.”

The elevator open a second after Aofil summons it. Must’ve been waiting on their floor. They hold the basement button for three seconds, release it for two, and then hold it for three more. The doors close just as chief monster comes back to his still out of reach clipboard.

“Should give us some time too,” Aofil comments, “before Mettaton comes charging at us.”

Undyne’s laughter can even be heard inside the elevator. This must be one of her best days ever. Aofil is correct in their guess. A moment after she shouts just the same thing.

The elevator door opens to a group of perplexed monsters. The group scan the elevator, but there’s only Muffet and Aofil in it. “Where’s the chief?”

“Busy with M,” Aofil relays. “Sent us down to talk with Alphys.”

Technically they’re not lying.

The monsters look at each other.

“To get some spare parts,” Aofil adds.

That one was a lie though.

“Yeah, but,” says one in the group, and lifts a claw towards Muffet, “she was the one that strung him up.”

“All part of the show,” Muffet smiles. “I’m under contract, remember? Ahuhuhu.”

Aofil’s impressed by her ability to control a crowd. Daily practice with her spiders. Must be it.

“You want to defy M’s orders?” she continues while putting one hand on her hip.

A collective panic ensues, and the monsters scramble away busily. A single sentence to part a sea of monsters. Impressive.

Problem is, Aofil forgot to ask where Alphys is. Dang it.

“So, right or left?” Aofil asks, moving their head from one direction to the other.

Muffet twists her lips, “Hm...” and knocks carefully on the wall. A spider hauls itself down. She lets it land on her finger before putting it up to her mouth. She whispers something to it, moves it to Aofil, and then tosses it back up the wall. It disappears between some cracks. “Shouldn’t be long,” she assures.

A minute or so later a loud squeal comes from a far ways to the right.

“Right it is,” Aofil says, and heads down the direction of the squeal.

Muffet points to a door labeled ‘Maintenance’ with a very ornate and pink ‘M’, and finds Alphys picking up some pieces of a smashed gadget when Muffet opens it. Alphys drops the gadget again when she spots Aofil in the doorway, and it breaks further. “A-Aofil!”

They turn to Muffet with a nod. “Thanks for you help, Muffet. I’m sorry if the lunch didn’t turn out that well.”

Muffet clamps her hands together and sway them from side to side while scratching the back of her shin with her other foot. “I had fun, human. Ahuhuhu.”

Aofil’s stomach rumbles, loudly. “Too bad we didn’t get to eat.”

“There’s always doughnuts at my place,” Muffet suggest, kinda, maybe, not really, but still. Her cheeks blossom, but Aofil just chuckles.

“If I decide to move here, I’ll make sure to visit.”

Muffet leans up to Aofil, and they offer their cheek. After a small peck, Muffet hands Aofil the remaining water along with a glass. “Just in case,” She waves goodbye, and giggles down the hallway. “Fufufufufu.”

The small spider lands on her shoulder, and also waves to Aofil.

Aofil closes the door behind them. “Alphys, I need your help.”

She puts away the broken gadget, and cleans the oil off her hands on a nearby, well used, towel. “S-sure. I-if it’s not s-something big. I-I need to help Mettaton with t-this.”

Aofil motions for her to sit down. “It is a big one, I'm afraid.”

With a worried look, and even worried hands, she takes a seat. She swallows hard. “Y-yeah?”

“Remember when I had my, well, fusion, with Asriel?”

Whether Alphys nodded, or if she’s shaking out of fear, Aofil can’t tell, but they continue regardless. “You see, I don’t think we split completely. Or at least, that’s how I see it.”

They struggle their arm out of their leather jacket, and show their arm to Alphys.

She freezes, her color drains completely, almost matching the glistening white of the fur on Aofil’s arm. Her hands searches desperately for her tail. She grips it like a ferrule, and drags it up to her head. “W-w-what i-is that?”

“The thing I need your help with.”


	81. Wincing to convincing

Three heavy knocks forces Aofil to cover up their sleeve. The knocker doesn’t wait for an invitation though, and barges in.

Pointing with the clipboard, “You!” the chief monster motions for Aofil and Alphys towards him. “Out!” With great prejudice. “Now!”

Behind the monster Aofil hears loud laughing. Carried just behind the clipboard chief by a hobbling Mettaton is Undyne, hunched over in his arm, and unable to move due to her chuckling and guffawing.

The clipboard monster’s eyes scream bloody murder, and Aofil’s not feeling like they want to challenge those. They help Alphys pack her tools, and then they follow the twitching monster through the hallway. Mettaton opens an exit, and throws Undyne out of it.

She lands with a roll, and bounces up on her feet as she's thrown out of the backstage exit. Still giggling, she catches Aofil in one arm, and Alphys in the other. The clipboard monster huffs angrily at them as Mettaton moves to block the door frame. “You can return to your other duties, love,” Mettaton informs. “I need to speak with these,” he pauses to reattach his chin, “ruffians.”

The clipboard monster bows, and heads back into the hallway. Mettaton closes the door behind him, and takes position overlooking Undyne and her baggage of friends. While plucking some strewn about strings from around him, he waves an eccentric finger. “Never in my life have I seen such blatant disregard, dears! Nothing I planned came to life!”

Undyne puts down her friends, and steps up the stairs leading to Mettaton. She rolls her shoulder. “And you know what?” she smiles. Her hand dives into her pocket, and she pulls out a small card. “We should earn two stamps for that!”

Aofil cocks their perplexed head. Stamps? The hell?

Mettaton shakes his head. “Absolutely not! One stamp per event, that’s the rules. I have to give Aofil a card now as well, so that will be your second stamp.”

His wrist opens up and Undyne hands her card to him. With a mechanic thunk the card is stamped. Undyne turns around and stretches out her arm to Alphys. “Give me yours.”

Alphys has one as well? Aofil is confused as all hell. Wasn’t Undyne just fighting Mettaton off as he tried to escort her out of the building? Her clothes are all torn up from the battle. Mettaton is missing one leg as well. His wheel is taking its place, and he’s looking rather pissed about it. Would’ve certainly been a good show, Aofil can imagine. But what’s happening right now?

“Until next time,” Undyne smiles towards Mettaton. “You deranged radiator,” she adds under her breath as she makes her way down the stairs on her own volition.

“I still heard that, Undy,” Mettaton let’s her know.

“Enough for another stamp?” she replies while flashing the three cards in her hand.

Mettaton either scoffs, or some gizmo inside him blows off steam. Same effect, either way. He closes the door after a wave goodbye to Alphys and Aofil.

Undyne hands Aofil their card, apparently. “Here you go!”

“What’s?” Aofil rotates the card around in their hand. “What’s this?”

The card is black with red stripes. Mettaton’s face is on the back of it, obviously. The front side is donned with ten boxes, with one stamped with a crossed circle. Same red as the lines on the back of the card. The tenth boxed has the words ‘Free Meal’ written across it.

“Two more, Alphys!” Undyne pats Alphys on the back before pocketing her card. “Then I’ll finally get to taste that garlic bread he’s so proud of!”

She doesn’t notice that Aofil’s not following her, and it takes Alphys to point it out after a couple of steps.

“Aof! Come on! We still haven’t had lunch on your expense! But I guess that getting a stamp counts as one. Ngah! I’ll whip something up when we get back home to us!”

What the hell is this card?

Alphys taps on Undyne’s shoulder again as Undyne swings back around and starts marching away. “A-Aofil’s still not moving.”

“Hey!” Undyne yells. “It’s a card! You humans have plenty!”

‘Free meal’? Why a free meal?

Undyne lets her arms flop down dramatically. She exhales an equally dramatic sigh, and throws a spear that lands right in front of Aofil’s feet. They recoil back from the impact, and Undyne snaps her fingers. “Aofil?”

They show their card to her. “What is this?”

“Ten bans from Mettaton, and you get a free meal. That’s how he always fills his restaurant with patrons. They're always promised an exciting show.” Undyne explains with a twirl of her hand. “He calls it ‘unorthodox entertainment’, but I call it being a real Jerry about hiring proper entertainment.”

“So,” Aofil furrows their brow at the card, “it was all for a show?”

“Yeah!” Undyne flashes a bright smiles and stretches her back. “I get to trash that trashcan, and he rewards me for it! So I’m not complaining. Ngah! He asked me to try and be more creative next time,” Undyne summons a spear in one hand, brings it up to her other hand, and splits the spear in two. “And oh boy is he gonna regret that!”

Alphys takes a step back from Undyne’s mock battle she has with something next to her. “S-sorry for not telling you, A-Aofil. It’s al-lways hard to tell with Mettat-ton what he wants. H-he’s stingy with t-these c-cards, so I didn’t t-think he’d inc-clude you.”

“Just a show?” Aofil repeats while turning the card over. Mettaton’s face is smiling. “And we were all in on it?”

Alphys nods.

“Even Muffet?”

“Ha!” Undyne scoffs loudly. “That arachnid probably has a consultant contract with Mettaton about this.” She lets her spears fade away. “Mettaton has her on speed dial, I’m sure of it.”

The card suddenly becomes a lot heavier in Aofil’s hand. “He has?”

Undyne’s smile turns into an annoyed frown, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “And I betcha that she gets two stamps for her involvement.”

Aofil’s cheeks runs colder, especially the one Muffet chose. Their arm is soothing as well. Coincidence? Aofil doesn’t really want to answer that. They pocket the card and sigh silently. “We’re gonna walk back?”

“I’m gonna take a look around the corner and see if I can spot that spiky pipsqueak and convince him to give us a ride. We didn’t even get to open that champagne!”

Aofil’s not so sure. “You think he’d help us?”

“He’s a big fan of me,” Undyne brags with a flash and a heroic pose. “I’ll give him an autograph and a picture of me as payment!”

“Papyrus?”

Undyne’s smile fades. “No, I’m not bragging like he does, Aofil.”

“Not what I meant. Why don’t you call Papyrus? He’s still acting chauffeur, right? For Asgore and Toriel?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have any champagne in his car,” Undyne reminds.

“Fine then.” Undyne has a good point. “See if you can find MK then, Undyne.” It might also give Aofil a bit more time with Alphys.

“Wait here!” Undyne says before taking off, leaving Aofil and Alphys alone.

Aofil checks that the coast is clear. They spot a camera, and position themselves so that’s it’s not obvious to it what they’re doing. They roll up their arm again for Alphys. “Anything you can tell by looking?” they ask her.

“C-can I touch it?”

Aofil allows her, and Alphys carefully put her hand on the white fur. Her claw tickles, and Aofil’s arm twitches out of reflex. They assure her that it didn’t hurt. Twice they have to before Alphys examines it further.

“It’s soft,” she notices with furrowed brows. “Almost like...”

“Yes, it’s the same fur Asriel and his parents have.”

“I see.” She doesn’t find anything else, and she returns Aofil’s arm to them. “And you said you suspect that it has something to do with you and Asriel fusing?”

“I do.”

It’s surprisingly easy for Aofil to say that. Perhaps because this time they have a chance of fixing it.

“That would explain why your fur is the same as his. Somehow the piece of Asriel’s soul inside yours have an influence on your body. For monsters that wouldn’t be strange, since we’re made out of our soul, so to speak.” Alphys scratches the top of her head, “But a human? Your souls work in symbiosis, one supplying the other. Your form isn’t influenced by it. Unless...”

“My soul is broken, remember?”

Alphys nods. “So it’s not so much a fusion as Asriel's soul filling the cracks,” she ponders out loud. “I can see that being the case. I’ve never heard of it happening before though, so I can’t really say more without further testing.” She hangs on the last word with an increasing deepness to her eyes. She shakes it away. “Any symptoms?”

Aofil makes double sure that they’re out of reach from the camera. “Under the presence of magic I feel, well, determined. And not in the good way.”

Alphys’ eyes widen, and again they grow deep and distant. “I… It’s b-been a long t-time since I h-heard that w-word.” Her hands ball together, “A l-long t-time. I t-thought it was l-left behind in the Und-derground.,” and her tail curls around her. “T-that it was n-no long-ger r-el-levant.”

“I’m sorry that I have to remind you of it, but I need your help. You’ve researched determination, Alphys. If there’s anyone to figure this out, it’s you.”

Alphys shakes her head. “No.”

“Alphys...” Aofil pleads.

“No!” She steps back from Aofil. “I-I r-refuse. N-not again! N-never! It’s all in t-the past! N-new chapter! It’s all g-gone. I delet-ted it! Purged it all.”

Aofil opens their mouth, but Alphys turns away from them with her head and back hunched over with her hands over her face. “N-never again!” she sobs. “I-I can’t. I w-won’t!” she whimpers. “I p-promised myself!”

Aofil puts their hand on Alphys’ shoulder, but she moves away from it, “I’m s-sorry,” and shakes her heavy head. “I c-can’t.”

No, Aofil’s come too far. This is their only chance, they’re not gonna let it slip away. Hopefully they can keep the damage to a minimum, but they have to force Alphys if she doesn’t want to. “You’re the only one that can help me, Alphys,” Aofil repeats with the least amount of hostility in their voice as possible.

She lowers her head in response.

“I’ve tried to take medicine. Human medicine,” Aofil continues while trying to move around her to face her, but she squirms away. “It hasn’t worked. I’m constantly afraid that I’ll snap. I can’t be near magic, and magic is spreading like a wildfire around me. More monsters on the Surface, and integrating more and more into society. I know that it’s wonderful, but not for me! I want to be happy that it’s happening, but I physically can’t. Not with this on my arm.”

Finally they grab hold of her shoulders, and force her still. Aofil forces contact with Alphys’ eyes. She’s doesn’t want to, but that’s not enough for Aofil to back down. “It’s just a matter of time before it becomes too much for me to handle. I can control my curse without this catalyst, but with this patch on me it keeps bringing me closer and closer to the line. Eventually I’ll cross it, so I’m gonna ask you again.”

Alphys averts her eyes again. “Please, I beg you,” Aofil pleads.

Alphys lets go of her tail. Reluctantly she reaches for it again, but she halts herself. She suppresses a tear and a sob with a visible swallow. Afterwards she sighs a shaky exhale.

“Curs-se?” she asks, her breathing slowing down for a moment as she waits for the answer. “You said s-something about a curse.”

“I think,” Aofil meets her eyes again, this time theirs are solid as a brick, “you know which one.”

“Do I?” Alphys snaps her head up towards Aofil. Her eyes dart all over them, and her lips starts shaking in fear. “No...” she takes a step back. “No...”

Aofil let’s her go, “I don’t want to succumb to it, Alphys,” and places their hand over the fur. It’s so soft, so gentle, but it’s none of those feelings. “I want to come back, but I can’t if I’m a danger to you all.”

“I c-can’t...”

“I’m afraid I have to insist, Alphys. I’ve tried to live with it, but I can’t. I don’t want to have these thoughts in my head. Sometimes I can’t even distinguish them from my own, because they are my own. You are the only option I want to pursue, so I have to ask you again.”

Alphys looks up slowly as Aofil tilts their head down to her. “I need your help, Alphys. With my entire heart, my entire soul. Please,” Aofil dries away a tear forming in their eye, “help me. All I ask is that you try. I can’t stay with any of you the way it is now. Give it enough time and I’ll not be able to stay anywhere. I want to ask you as a friend, but a friend wouldn’t put you in this situation. I know that, and still I ask this of you, Alphys. That is how serious this is.”

Alphys grabs her tail as she dives into her thoughts. She squeezes the increasingly red tail, lets it go, and squeezes it again while mumbling to herself. Aofil can’t make it out the exact words, but she’s debating with herself. Reasons for and against trickle out of her incoherently, but Aofil can’t tell which side has the upper hand.

With a weary mumble Alphys meets Aofil’s eyes. “H-how can I if your human doctors can’t?”

“I don’t know. Human medicine didn’t work, so now my last option is monster medicine.”

“W-we don’t have anything f-for this, t-this has never happened.”

Aofil nods sympathetically, but they’re still determined to convince Alphys. “Which is why I asked the only monster I know that’s an expert in determination.”

“N-not a w-willing one...”

“Please...”

“I-Is this the one t-thing stopping you from moving back?” Alphys asks. “I know t-that we all w-want you b-back.”

“Do you want me back as well?”

Alphys smiles. “I-I k-know that we might not have had s-so much time together, b-but it feels like we’ve d-done so much, you and me.”

Aofil begs that her memory doesn’t overwhelm her like it did Muffet. They need to use it though, it’s their only hope of convincing her.

“It’s a thing stopping me, not the one thing, but it would help me immensely. I don’t want to force you, Alphys, but who else can I ask?”

Alphys moves her eyes to the patch of fur, and back up to Aofil’s pleading eyes. She grabs her tail, and twists it. “H-how long? Y-your curse, if t-that’s w-what we’re g-gonna call it.”

“My curse?”

Alphys nods again very faintly. “S-so that I h-have somew-where to start. We’ll d-do some t-test when we get h-home, b-but if I h-have s-some grasp on w-what the curse is I c-can be more efficient w-with the f-first test.”

Aofil kneels down, and embraces Alphys. “Thank you,” they say, their voice struggling to escape their choked up throat.

“I-It’s alr-right, Aofil,” Alphys comforts very clumsily with a series of reserved pats on Aofil’s back. Despite it, Aofil feels what she so awkwardly wants to say.

Aofil quells a relieved chuckle. “W-what did you mean by first test?”

“It’s gonna t-take more than one, I’m afraid-d.”

“How many?”

“I c-can’t tell. Sorry...”

“Compared to what I’ve been through,” Aofil releases Alphys and she gives Aofil an uncomfortable smile as thanks, “I think that I’ll manage.”

Aofil steadies their breathing, and calmly exhales. “I’ve had my curse since I was born. Together with my-” Aofil halts their tongue. Alphys might figure it out though, but hopefully she doesn’t.

“P-parents?” Alphys guesses. “Did they have the curse as well?”

“Not that I know of. I know that dad knew magic though. He got it from the Barrier or something.”

Alphys forms a fist under her chin. “And he didn’t show any magical abilities before?”

“As far as I know, no.”

Alphys’ brow furrows in thought, and she picks up a notebook from her coat pocket. “Latent magical expression.” She removes the pen stuck to it and scribbles something down. “Or perhaps,” she taps the pen on her forehead, “soul trait activated by magic seeping from the Barrier. The Barrier itself maybe? It was made by human mages, so perhaps it responded to human mages? Empowering them? No, that wouldn’t make sense. If anything it would empower the mages once broken, to contain us again. You have any other family that could do magic, Aofil?”

“Umm,” Aofil searches their mind for anything that might be applicable, “Granddad pulled coins from behind my ear?”

Alphys’ eyes shoot wide open, and she starts writing like crazy.

“But that’s just a trick!” Aofil halts her. “Like me pulling my thumb off.”

“Oh,” she remembers, hopefully it’s a benign memory. “I see. So, no other magic?”

Aofil shakes their head, and Alphys erases a page or two of text. She furrows her brow harder on the notes remaining. “Maybe it’s recessive? Dominant would have surfaced more cases. We would’ve seen at least one during our time up here.”

“What?”

“The curse, maybe it’s a recessive trait. It would explain why there aren’t so many around. Just you, and maybe-” Alphys halts her tongue. Aofil might figure it out though, but hopefully they don’t.

Aofil nods rhythmical as to make sure that Alphys doesn’t know that they know about Chara. They don't know how much the Dreemurrs have told her, and asking is not a good idea right now. “Yeah, perhaps.”

“Y-yeah, t-that’s my thinking. Has there been any other ways magic influenced you before you knew you had a curse?”

“There was some involved when my soul broke, but I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s not relevant.”

“A-are you sure? Anything m-might be a lead.”

“I’m sure,” Aofil states very clearly and sternly. “Absolutely sure. The only thing I can think is slightly relevant is that dad healed what was left of my soul, and how much of a toll it took on him.”

“T-that s-sounds relevant t-to me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Aofil realizes with a hand on their forehead. “Just, trust me, please. I know I’ve already asked way too much of you...”

“I-it’s f-fine. It m-might requir-re more t-tests though.”

“Fair enough.”

Alphys reads back through her notes, “I-I think this might be enough to get me started.” and pockets the pen and paper. “I s-still have to take some s-samples.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

A dark shadow emerges on Alphys’ eyes, and they grow distant and deep. “The ones I did before didn’t feel pain… The ones that did at the beginning...”

“Sorry,” Aofil says, hoping that it’s enough to not have her slip back into her own memories. “I’ll keep my questions to a minimum.”

“T-thanks.”

The shadows disappears as the sounds of screeching wheels fly around the corner. Aofil moves themselves and Alphys out of the way, just in case, and the long limousine halts in front of them. The back door is kicked open, and Undyne leans out.

“’Sup, nerds! I got the champagne! Betcha it’s gonna taste wonderful since we’re stealing it from Mettaton too!”

Aofil watches her blow the cork off towards the camera. It hits the lens directly, but bounces gently off the glass. Undyne throws a small spear through it for good measures, and waves Aofil and Alphys inside with the bottle.

“Who wants some?”


	82. Sins crawling back

"Oh, so that's how you drive the car. Wow, I hadn't even thought about that! Color me surprised. Here I though you…"

MK leans in with his ear. “Yeah?”

“Nevermind.”

MK smiles widely at Aofil's impressed expression. He shows it off again, and Aofil nods approvingly with an extended thumb. “Neat.”

"Yooo! It took me a while," MK admits, "but once I figured it out I breezed through the tests. I'm just as good as anyone with hands, if not better," he lets himself brag. "It's why M hired me."

"The guests are too busy thinking about your driving that they spend less time contemplating the contract he gives them?" Aofil guesses cheekily, and judging by MK’s sudden cough, they’re pretty spot on with it.

MK clenches his teeth and breathes through them. "I can't really," he meets Aofil's raised eyebrow, "confirm that, you know?” MK points his tail up to the roof. “M is kinda listening and stuff."

“Really?” Aofil leans through the open car window. "Mettaton," they address the ceiling, "if you could be a dear and return my clothes to Alphys and Undyne's house that would be fantastic. Empty my pockets please before you wash them, too. Put them back afterwards!" Aofil adds, well aware what would happen if they didn’t. “Please, and thank you.”

The tail moves from the roof towards Aofil's chest. "I was gonna ask about that. These aren’t the clothes you had when I dropped you off. Wait..." MK's eyes light up underneath his cap. "Yooo! You were part of the fashion show? Wow! So cool! With Undyne as well?"

“Maybe?” Now it's Aofil's turn to clench their own teeth. "It's convoluted, you know? Mettaton and his plans. I don’t really know what I did, or was supposed to do.”

“You tell me!” MK chuckles. “Still, yooo, though. The human teacher and Undyne at the fashion show! Wait until Snow and Vul hears about it! Asriel and Frisk are gonna be jealous as well, I bet! Have you seen them yet, by the way?”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods solemnly, averting their eyes for just a moment, “yeah, I have. They live just up the street, I stayed with them during the night. Had an interview with Toriel yesterday, and...”

Aofil’s interrupted by the loudly leaking glee from MK. His lips and cheeks almost explode as he’s doing his best, yet still failing, to contain his smile. Aofil leans back as to not be immediately deaf from the cloud of joy MK’s about to produce.

“Yoooo!” the limousine honks as MK’s tail whips onto the steering wheel. Further up the gravel path, Undyne and Alphys jump from the sudden sound. A spear flies with enough distance over the car to not put it or the people near it in danger, but close enough to take out the startled anger.

“So you are moving back!” bursts out of MK. He shoots his head out the car window, and almost hits Aofil square on the jaw. They manage to dodge the yellow and spiky head, but not with a lot to spare. “Awesome!”

“I’m,” Aofil stops as they’re washed over by the feeling that they’re letting down MK. It’s worse if they were to lie though, “not sure, MK.”

His smiles dies off in an instant, and the shine in his eyes flee equally as quick. He looks down for a moment, but then returns up to Aofil. “Yoo, that’s fine,” Aofil can tell that’s he’s clearly lying, “but you’ll think about it, right?”

“Yeah, I will. Like I said.”

“I know...” spills out of MK.

“But I promise I’ll give it a proper thinking over, MK.”

MK leans his ear to his shoulder. “Sorry, gotta go. M needs me.”

Aofil taps the roof of the car. “See you later, MK.”

“You too!”

The limousine takes off screeching and flies around the corner with an unsafe amount of speed. Considering MK’s driving technique though, Aofil’s actually not worried. They don’t usually give it much thought, but monster magic is really something else.

“I’ll start the lunch then,” Undyne yells from inside the kitchen as Aofil enters the front door. They hear her summon a spear. The tortured sound of a metal can being opened in every wrong way possible along with her pleased giggle worries Aofil a bit. She seems to enjoy it a bit too much.

“Spill your beans for me!”

Definitely too much.

A long spear stretches across the kitchen and punctures a can of crushed tomatoes. “Fruits to the slaughter!” It's hauled back leaking red juice all over the floor.

Definitely way too much.

Undyne leans into the door frame with a myriad of different stains on both her Mettaton branded apron and her face. “Aofil! You’re still allergic to magic and stuff?”

Aofil looks to Alphys with panicked filled eyes, and then back to Undyne.

“Just so that I know what ingredients to use,” she explains with a twirl of her wooden ladle. A piece of tomato flies of it and lands on the top of the frame. She scrapes it off with a small spear and throws it back onto the counter. “Don’t want you going into shock like that Tem did.”

“T-the one that jumped into the arms of the h-human delegation?” Alphys asks while offering to take Aofil’s shoes.

“Yeah! Was almost as big as Onionsan when I finally managed to catch its face!” Undyne drags out her cheeks to mimic. “But anyway,” she says, still with her chins stretched wide, “Aofil, your allergy?”

“Oh,” trips out of Aofil’s relieved tongue. “Yes,” they nod, “still allergic.”

Undyne flashes a smile, “Gotcha!” and returns to borderline swearing at the food she’s preparing. “Who’s ready for some mighty fine salmon?”

Aofil looks down to Alphys for confirmation that she heard the same thing. She seems a bit uneasy from the look. “It’s v-very good, I promise. I’ve t-tripled insulated the kitchen, so you don’t have to worry about the house burning up again.”

“Was not what I was thinking about,” Aofil informs.

“Oh,” Alphys removes her hand from her mouth, “then what?”

Aofil nods towards the loud kitchen. “Her cooking fish.”

Alphys doesn’t seem understand to the problem, that it really is a problem, “W-what do you m-mean, Aofil?” and that’s really enough of an answer for Aofil. If neither Alphys or Undyne finds a problem with it, why would Aofil?

“Nothing,” they dismiss with a wave of their hand. “Just thinking out loud.”

With a reserved hand Alphys motions towards a door further down the hallway, right next to the kitchen. She stares at it for a second or two. “S-shall we?” she asks quietly, as if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Aofil forms a fist with their hand. The tendons in their arm push up against the fur. They’re used to it by now, but it’s gonna be relieving to not feel it. They nod with a serious hum. “Let’s go.”

Alphys holds the door open for Aofil. Before Aofil can enter, Undyne returns her head and ladle into view through the door frame. “While you’re down there, Alphee,” Undyne asks while reaching for something, “could you repair this?” She brings a broken whisk into view while gently waving it. Luckily she cleaned it, so no more excessive staining happens.

Alphys grabs the whip. “Sure,” she smiles. “I was just s-showing Aofil around the house, but i-it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Around the house?” Undyne’s smile turns sinister. “Oh really?”

Aofil knows that smile well and good, and they decide to speak up before the idea takes root too much in her head. “Can’t really work out in these clothes, Undyne.”

“Oh I have plenty of spare clothing that you can use, whelp!” Undyne spins the ladle in between her fingers. “The salmon needs to be alone in the oven for a while, so we got some time together, human. If earlier today was proof of your strength, then we got a long way to go.”

“We’ll see,” answers Aofil, “depends.”

“Ngah! This is gonna be awesome!”

Undyne returns once again to her cooking, her suppressed giggling slowly turning into full on cackling. Alphys and Aofil can still hear her well after they close the basement door.

The basement is filled with gadgets and small robots strewn out over the floor. The walls are covered half with blueprints and scribbles, and half with anime posters. Probably for inspiration, considering how the robots look.

Alphys invites Aofil to a chair. “I’ll j-just get the instruments needed.”

Aofil rolls up their arm, exposing the reason they’ve been feeling horrible all these years. “Thank you again, Alphys.” With a small smile they brush off some fabric stuck on the fur. “You’ve no idea how much this means for me.”

Alphys moves around a couple of vials and bottles on a shelf. “Y-yeah,” she replies as she finds a vial small enough. She sighs heavily. “I can imagine.”

Her tone is rather distant.

She places the vials in a small machine to test if they fit. Satisfied that they do, she puts them in a stand and brings it to the table next to Aofil. She glances to the end of the basement, to a dusty cabinet. She whispers to herself to get a grip about it. She’s doing it for a friend. This time it’s different, this time she’s doing it for good.

She sighs again, and heads over to it with heavy steps. Her tail makes a thick line in the dust leading up to the cabinet.

After fidgeting with the lock, and freezing as it clicks open, Alphys puts her hand on the handle. Her hand rests on it, unwilling to pull the cabinet open. A couple of mumbled word reaches Aofil’s ears, but they’re too weak for them to make out what she says. Alphys releases the handle and looks at her hand. After a moment she nods to herself, and wipes the dust off her hand on a nearby towel. She moves some robots around in a nearby pile until she finds one with a feather duster. They keyboard on it lights up as she presses a combination, and it jumps out of her hand shortly after spinning up.

A furious couple of seconds later the cabinet is left clean as new. Not a single speck of dust on it. The robot returns to Alphys, and she presses another combination on its keyboard. After deactivating the robot Alphys turns to Aofil. “S-so I d-don’t cont-taminate the n-need-dles-s,” she chuckles uncomfortably. “S-since y-you h-humans ar-re vuln-nerable to b-bacteria.”

Aofil let’s her have the excuse. It’s not normal for her to stammer quite like this.

A visible swallow runs down her throat. “It’s-s c-clean now, s-so I’l-ll g-go get them n-now.”

“Alphys,” Aofil stops her. They flex their fist again. “Sorry for forcing you through this.”

Alphys nods absently. “It’s-s f-fine. Don’t-t w-worry, Aof-fil.”

Aofil can tell that she’s clearly lying.

Alphys takes some reassuring breathes as her hand weighs down on the handle. She opens it slowly, but it’s not enough. Her exhales turn into gasps of dread, and her inhales turn into gulps of fear. The entire cabinet shakes with her, and a small glass container falls off a shelf and crashes next to her foot.

“I’m sor-r-rry,” she whispers. “I’m s-so sor-r-y. I don’t deser-rve being alive!”

She slams the cabinet door close, and stumbles backwards while clutching her head. She reaches her free arm for any form of support, but she doesn’t find any. Without anything for her to lean on, Alphys falls over backwards with her glazed eyes glued to the cabinet.

Aofil manages to get their arms underneath her shoulders at the last second. “I gotcha,” they whispers carefully as they almost throw their back out from catching her. “I gotcha,” they repeat to make sure she knows she’s safe. Her shaking eyes indicate the opposite, the furthest opposite. Her quivering lips struggle to form syllables. All that escapes her are suppressed whimpers and quiet apologies.

Aofil eases her down on the floor, and leans her up against a cupboard with the least amount of stuff on its counter just in case she flinches. They try to catch her eyes, but she looks straight through them.

“Y-you should’ve l-let me f-fall, Undyn-ne.”

Aofil snaps their fingers right next to Alphys’ eyes. She flinches, as Aofil predicted, and the back of her head knocks over a clock on the table. The clock pushes itself back up with an extending rod, and returns to its ticking.

“It’s me,” Aofil says, “Aofil.”

Alphys blinks, and her breathing returns. She stares at Aofil dazed until she recognizes them. She nods hesitantly. “It-t’s y-you, Aofil.”

“Do you need me to get you some water, Alphys?”

Alphys rearranges her glasses on her nose with a very unstable hand. “N-no, It-t’s f-fine.”

Aofil doesn’t accept that. “It’s not fine, Alphys. Not with you looking like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Seen M-Mettaton?” she asks perplexed. “W-why?”

That did her no good. Aofil curses themselves.

“Human expression, don’t worry about it,” they say with a warm smile, something Alphys definitely needs right now. “Sit down here for a while. I’ll get you some water.”

Aofil’s not sure if they should really leave her alone like this. Looking around the basement there is a lot of things she could use to… No! Get that thought out!

A claw almost punctures Aofil’s skin through their shirt and jacket as Alphys grips Aofil in a panic. “D-don’t t-tell Und-dyne! Please!”

Aofil grabs Alphys’ arm in reflex. She lets go as quickly as she grabbed on, and looks at her hand. “N-no,” she cries. “No. I p-promised h-her I w-would be st-trong. I p-promised Undyne. I promised her...”

Alphys voice trails off, and Aofil finds themselves having to carry her arm for her. They gently place it on her sobbing chest, and she nestles it under her chin.

“I-I’m n-not st-trong. I d-don’t des-serve t-this. I d-don’t deser-v-ve being here! Not after all I did.”

She curls up into a pathetic yellow ball of tears and violent sobs. Her entire being rocks with every gasp for air, shaking the wall long cupboard to its foundation. Aofil is concerned that Undyne might notice from upstairs. They spend a good long while with their hand on her shoulder, comforting her as best as they can. Aofil doesn’t say anything though, because they don’t know what to say.

“I k-knew this would happen,” Alphys finally speaks. Her voice is exhausted and strained. “I k-knew I would rem-member! I kn-new I w-would n-never be free of-f the s-sins I did. All t-the amalg-gamates I made. The h-humans I ext-tracted!”

She burrows her head into her tail and hands. “And now I-I’m doing it ag-gain! T-to a f-friend!”

“It’s not the same though, Alphys. You’re doing this to help me.”

“I w-was doing it-t f-for the f-future of-f the m-monsters before, b-but l-look what I c-created. W-what if I d-do somet-thing w-worse t-to you? I shoul-ld’ve never have s-said y-yes to this. I c-can’t do t-this, Aof-fil. I’m s-sorry.”

“You promised me you’d help me.”

“I p-promised Und-dyne I’d b-be stron-ng too.”

No! No no no no no! They’re too close! Aofil’s too close!

“I’ll die without this, Alphys!” Aofil roars. They expect Undyne to come rushing down any moment now, but it’s the only way. They have to snap Alphys out of this! “I’ll go mad! I’ll lose myself to this! You have to help me!”

“A-Aofil...”

They grab both of Alphys’ shoulders. “This is the only chance I have to live a normal life. To forget everything that happened. To finally leave this all behind me!”

Alphys’ eyes meet Aofil’s. Hard, sad, confused, anger, soft, dread. Hers is going through them all. She doesn’t blink despite her eyes being filled to the brink with tears. Her quivering mouth calms down, and it slowly, but steadily, turns into a frown.

She lifts a shaking and angry finger, “Y-y-you!” and grabs Aofil’s arm. “G-get of-f-f me!”

Aofil retracts their arms. What is going on?

On wobbly knees Alphys forces her self up. Her breathing turns into huffs through her nose. She casts a glance towards the cabinet, and her frown grows deeper. “Y-you!” she repeats with a deep snarl. “Y-you n-nev-ver even c-cons-sidered-d m-moving b-back!”

The question takes the air right out of Aofil.

Alphys teeth clap together despite her gritting them as hard as she can. “Y-you h-hate us-s, b-but y-you w-want to use us-s to f-fix y-your ar-rm, and t-then,” she struggles for air, “and then you’re just gonna abandon us again!”

“N-no,” stammers Aofil. They’ve never seen Alphys this angry before. Her unstable posture and difficulty catching air shows that she’s never been like this either.

“Y-yes!” Alphys stammers back. If it is to mock or not, Aofil can’t tell. “You d-don’t want-t to b-be rem-minded ab-bout t-the respons-sibility of y-your actions! You c-could’ve t-told me about-t t-this bef-fore you l-left us! You d-din’t t-trust us-s, so y-you did-dn’t s-say anyt-thing! Y-you’re t-the r-reason y-you’re feel-ling t-this w-way! You’re t-the reason y-you’re allerg-gic. N-not your a-arm!”

The color drains from Alphys as she forgets to breathe. She takes support against the cupboard while clutching her head and gasping for air. Aofil moves closer to help her, but she swats their fur covered arm away. “Al-ll y-your arm-m is doing i-is r-reminding y-you of us! Al-ll it does is r-remind y-you t-that y-you aband-doned us. T-that y-you w-wanted t-to believ-ve t-that y-your connec-ction w-with us w-was a lie! You l-lie to yours-self s-so that-t you d-don’t h-have to c-come to f-face w-what you d-did t-to y-yours-self, Aof-fil! Y-your arm-m isn’t a c-curse, it’s a b-blessin-ng. T-the problem is t-that you d-don’t w-want it to be a blessing! B-because that m-means t-that you c-can’t l-lie to y-yourself anymore!”

She loses her grip on the cupboard and falls over. Aofil sees her fall, but they can’t move a muscle. They stand still, seeing her barely catch herself on the cement floor. She breathes greedily, coughing away sawdust and metal carvings with every inhale.

What did Aofil do if they’re the cause for this act of hers? Can they even understand it?

After a long while of nothing but Alphys catching herself she finally musters enough strength to attempt to stand up. Aofil offers their help, and she accepts it.

“I’d like some water, Aof-fil,” she asks while readjusting her glasses. “I’ll b-be read-dy to take s-some samples once y-you g-get back.”

“Alphys...”

“Just. Don’t,” she begs. “Only the water.”

Aofil nods, and Alphys does in return.

“G-good,” she whispers, “g-good,” and releases Aofil’s shoulder to stand on her own.

She halts Aofil once they take their first step, “A-actually.” She turns her head from the cabinet door. “S-see if-f y-you can as-sk Undyne t-to show y-you where my s-snacks are. I c-could us-se them to t-test y-your all-lergy.”

Aofil nods again, “Good idea,” and heads up the stairs.

Alphys turns back to the cabinet door with a deep breath, “Y-yes,” and opens it, “g-good idea.”


	83. This time it's for the good of the human

"That's the l-last one for now."

Alphys inspects the syringe darkened by the liquid inside. She taps it carefully with her claw before injecting it into the last empty vial. She swirls the liquid around, taking note of the viscosity. The vial slides into the place on the stand along with its cousins containing a variety of other fluids of different colors.

Aofil massages their arm. It’s gone a bit numb from all the vials Alphys has extracted, but their curse will be busy healing the wounds. Especially the small square of missing fur that’s no longer on their arm, but on a petri dish next to a microscope. A lonesome red square taken from a forest of white. The wound stings, but Aofil can manage it. They’ve been through worse.

They’ve done worse.

A series of beeps gives them an escape from the memories wanting to rush back, and they lift their head from their arm to Alphys programming a small machine with the vials inserted into it. She closes the lid over them, and the vials start spinning.

A small and careful smile grows for just a moment on Alphys, but when she turns and sees Aofil holding their arm, the smile fades away. She scoots the chair across the basement with her tail. From inside a cupboard she retrieves a roll of paper towels and a bottle of clear liquid. She pushes her way back to Aofil while pouring some of the liquid on a sheet of paper.

“Your arm?” she asks carefully while holding out her hand. Aofil places it inside her hand. “I’m just gonna disinfect it,” she explains before lightly tapping the wound with the drenched paper. It burns, must be alcohol. Nothing too bad, but it summons a small grunt from Aofil. Alphys stops, but Aofil urges her to continue. She can feel Aofil’s arm tense with every careful touch.

“D-do you want some gauze?” Alphys offers after throwing the bloodied paper into a nearby trashcan shaped like an anime cat.

Aofil blows on the wound to dry it and the alcohol. “It’ll heal on its own before the day is over.”

“I-I was just thinking to protect from infection.” Alphys looks over to the machine with the vials. It’s not done quite yet. “If it becomes infected and y-you have to visit a human doctor.”

She has a good point. “Do you have some?”

She nods and pushes her way back to the metallic cabinet. She avoids looking at the top shelf, and picks up a package of gauze from a middle shelf. The door closes quickly behind her as she rolls back to Aofil.

“Do you w-want me to roll it over the fur?” she asks, unsure if she should really use the word. “To hide it if you want to take off your jacket?”

“Might need another roll if it is to be completely covered,” Aofil notices. “I don’t want a single strand peeking through.”

“U-understandable.”

Alphys fetches another roll of gauze, still avoiding the top shelf. With both rolls at the ready, she starts wrapping Aofil’s arm.

“How come you know this, Alphys? About human medicine.”

“I,” Alphys pauses her wrapping for a second to gather her words. “I w-wanted to l-learn to help h-humans instead of...”

The gauze is tensed incredibly tightly as Alphys clenches her teeth. Aofil weathers the pain, for her sake.

“It’s m-more of a hobby though,” Alphys explains while returning to her careful wrapping. “S-something to keep my mind occupied. U-Undyne let’s me practice scrapes and s-such on her. She says that if she can get healing as a human, she’ll get closer to being as strong as one.”

With a final tug Alphys tightens the fabric, and tucks the loose end into the neatly package. Like a second layer of skin its wrapped nice and smooth around Aofil’s arm. They flex underneath it, but it doesn’t flinch. Tight as a walnut corset.

And even better, no fur sticking through. It’s probably gonna itch like hell if it gets sweaty, but Aofil can handle itching. Alphys hands them their jacket from a nearby chair, and Aofil slides the leather above the gauze as they put it on.

“Thanks, Alphys.”

She nods. “You’re welcome. D-do let me know if you’re feeling anything from it.”

Aofil pinches off some loose strands of fabric from the gauze sticking out from underneath the jacket. “Why? Should I be feeling something?”

“I-I’ve done a bit of enhancing to t-the gauze. Some of my magic. U-Undyne complained about it slipping of-ff, s-so I made it more, um, sticky. Y-you seem to be able to hold her spears, so this shouldn’t b-be a problem. I h-have some normal gauze just in case, s-so if you’re feel-ling anything. Let me know and I’ll switch.”

Aofil isn’t feeling anything different from their arm, but they nod. “Got it.”

Like Alphys said, just in case.

The vial machine starts beeping, and Alphys cocks her head at the sound. She shakes away a thought, and lifts the lid. With a careful and steady hand she tilts a vial around. The fluid inside has separated, and is sloshing around in different layers. Like a liquid flag of gray and black.

With a quizzical claw she taps the different layers through the glass, and writes down a couple of notes. “Consistent with previous samples,” she mumbles. After a couple of taps with her pen against her mouth she narrows her eyes in thought. “Fusion included both? Need to check the tissue.”

Aofil sits still and quiet while rolling their thumbs. Alphys seems to be pretty focused at the samples taken, so they shouldn’t disturb her. She is doing it for them, after all, so it would be doubly rude to disrupt her.

What else can they do then? Leave? She seems to be busy enough to not try and hurt herself. Leaving her alone would be a bit inconvenient if she needs more samples though. Undyne might’ve been able to accept Aofil going back down once, but twice would certainly raise suspicion. Good thing the tomato sauce almost caught fire. Gave Aofil a good reason to leave Undyne alone to her cussing and cooking. It doesn’t smell like anything special down in the basement, like burnt tomatoes for instance, so it seems like Undyne managed to save the sauce.

Maybe refill the water? Aofil glances over to the can. Almost full. Alphys only needed one glass before calming down, so maybe sending Aofil to get some was an excuse to get them out of the basement?

For what reason though? To calm down? To scream into the large pillow shaped like a Mikkarama? It certainly looks like it’s been recently squeezed hard and tossed across the room. It’s still slowly regaining its shape.

So no water to refill. How about her snacks? She’s pretty liberal with how many she picks up, but the package was unopened when Aofil fetched it, so probably not.

Tasted pretty good though. Sweet, with a hint of nutmeg. It was magic food, no doubt about it, but with Alphys cutting a piece off their arm Aofil is pretty sure it will be busy mending the wound and not spread to their head.

“A-Aofil?”

Aofil realizes that they’ve been staring at Alphys for the past minute or so. “Oh...” They blink back control of their eyes. “Yes?”

“Y-you can go up and b-be with Undyne if you want. It’ll b-be a while before I’m done with this,” Alphys says with a small wave of a vial with Aofil’s blood.

“You sure?” Aofil asks, just to be sure themselves.

Alphys nods carefully. “I prefer to be working alone. If y-you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” Aofil stands up from their chair. “Call for me if you need something more.”

Alphys smiles in relief. “Thank you. I will.”

“Nothing you can figure out now?”

Alphys searches her head. “Nothing right now, no. Oh,” she halts Aofil in their step, “if y-you're still around after y-your wound is healed, I’d l-like another sample. If that’s alright w-with you. To study h-how it h-heals.”

Aofil taps their arm, feeling their wound protest as it’s touched. “Sure!”

“Alright...”

Aofil does Alphys a favor and breaks eye contact willingly. They walk up the stairs with Alphys’ mumbling following them up. Nothing they can deduce from it, but something about it sounds just off to their ears.

Could just be that Aofil barely understand anything of what she’s saying.

Let’s go with that.

“Perfection,” Undyne whispers in a sinister tone as she closes the lid on the saucepan. Out of the corner of her eye she catches Aofil closing the basement door. Her grin grows, also being sinister and plotting.

“Smells like you saved the sauce, Undyne,” Aofil comments after sampling the smells around them. “How long until it’s done?”

“About a work out session or so.” Undyne flashes her teeth. “Gotta get yourself an appetite, you know?”

“Don’t know how much I can manage with an empty stomach though, so maybe another time?”

As if Undyne would accept that excuse. Accept any excuse. Besides head injuries, that is. She stabs an apple in a fruit bowl on the kitchen table with a slim spear and flicks the apple to Aofil. “There’s your food, for now!”

Aofil catches it with one hand, raising a pair of cocky eyebrows. Undyne crosses her arms while her spear fades away. “You just gonna look at it or eat it?”

Aofil takes a small nibble off the apple. “Gonna take me a while to get through it!”

“Ha!” Undyne scoffs. She lowers the temperature on both the oven and stove. “There! Take all the time you want!” she snickers. “Not to distract you from your eating or anything...”

Aofil halts a bite, “Too late!” but they take one shortly after, just to be nice.

“I saw you talking with MK before he took off. What were you talking about?”

“His driving,” Aofil answers after swallowing. “Why do you wonder?”

Undyne scratches the sides of her throat. “The kid uses his magic to steer, right? Applies an aura to the steering wheel to control it? At least that’s what I gathered from him.”

Aofil nods, “And his tail to shift gear,” and takes another bite of the apple. It’s really damn sweet. Hopefully not magic. “I did spot some teeth marks on the steering wheel though.”

“It takes effort to use magic.” Undyne conjures a spear that she balances on her finger. “Gotta work on your magic endurance just like your stamina. Soul and body, both just as important. Body for these,” Undyne flexes her arms, “and soul for these!” and summons two violently crackling spears that she clashes together with a thunderous fizzle.

“Impressive, I think. Can’t do magic myself so my frame of reference might be a bit off.”

Undyne flexes again. “With guns like these you know I’m packing top grade ammo, human!”

Aofil shrugs nonchalantly and takes another bite. “If you say so.” They can’t hold their face though, and a smile reveals their ruse.

Undyne catches it, “Ha!” and smiles herself. “Finish your damn apple, punk.”

Aofil cleans off a piece of apple peel stuck between their teeth. “Why did you wonder about MK?”

“Thought you asked him about the ban card. How to get more stamps.”

Aofil pats their pockets until they find the one they placed the card in. They fish it up and turn it around in their hand. “Shit’s absurd, gotta say.”

“If you had seen the prices that Mettacan has you’d know why I even agreed to it to begin with.” Undyne waves her own card. “Just a few more until I can finally get my hands on that garlic bread I’ve heard so much about!”

The image of Undyne’s stunned face and the thought of what would probably happen after she is served the appetizer is convincing and humorous enough for Aofil not to burst her bubble. Not enough damage that can be done if it pops here in her own home.

At Mettaton’s restaurant though? Oh man! Could also be enough for a second stamp, so technically Aofil’s doing Undyne a favor by not saying anything.

With Aofil’s last bite of the apple Undyne holds out her hand towards Aofil. “It’s another time now, human. So you better get ready.” With a twist of her wrist Undyne forms a spear in her hand. The weight of it pushes her arm down, but she holds it up. With her hand shaking she gives it to Aofil, who needs to use both of their arms to be able to carry it.

Undyne forms one for herself. “Curls march! Go! Sweat ahoy! Ngah!”

Undyne counts out loud while curling her spear. Every increasing number makes her smile grow wider. “Aofil!” she yells as Aofil stands still with the spear nestled clumsily in their arms. “Let’s go!”

“I’m not working out in these clothes, Undyne. Just look at me.”

With an annoyed sigh she dismisses her spears and turns the corner with her shoulders low. “Can’t work out in these clothes!” she repeats with a very low effort impersonation of Aofil. “Mettaton would be mad at me for ruining his perfect and fantastic creations!” she continues without adding any more effort to her impersonation.

“It’s not because of that,” Aofil corrects.

Undyne returns her head around the corner. “Then why not?”

“You don’t workout in dress pants and leather jacket, Undyne.”

She blows a raspberry and returns out of sight. “I’ll find you something then, you big baby! And after that, I’ll finally get to exercise with you, Aofil!”

A couple of minutes pass before Undyne returns with a pile of clothing that she throws to Aofil. A very interesting color scheme of pink and yellow is present throughout all. Then again, isn't it always.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll set up some weights and benches out back while you change.”

“Right, see you out there.”

Undyne flashes a smile and heads out the patio door. From a small shed she retrieves various weights and gym equipment. Aofil watches her set up a bench press before deciding that maybe they should do what they were asked to and go change clothes.

To their surprise the bathroom contains a toilet. From what the trucker said Aofil thought it would be rare for monster houses to have one. The Dreemurrs would have one for Frisk, of course, but here? Maybe Frisk is exercising with Undyne. Maybe Asriel is too? Would make sense, judging by how he looks.

As Aofil changes their shirt their head conjures up another reason. Maybe it’s just natural for Asriel? Asgore’s pretty huge, and Toriel isn’t exactly slim compared to humans. Does Asriel need to work out? Aofil should ask Undyne.

The sweat shirt doesn’t cover up the bandage on Aofil’s arm, but they should be able to explain it away easily. It hasn’t loosened the slightest inch, but if it starts coming off Aofil will abandon the work out immediately.

The shorts are very short, and barely covers half of Aofil’s thighs. Luckily it’s only Undyne that will see Aofil wearing these, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Oh my,” flusters Mettaton as Aofil leaves the bathroom.

Nevermind then.

“You could’ve let me know earlier and I would’ve made your piece of my collection more vibrant if you so wished, darling.” He peeks over Aofil’s shoulder to the pile inside the bathroom. Thrown in a haphazard pile is the jacket and dress pants. With a smile that’s a mix between confusion and bubbling anger Mettaton hands Aofil their old clothes. “I took the liberty of washing these.”

Aofil nods, “Thank you, Mettaton,” ignoring the seething look from him.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re not wearing the ones I gave you.” He extends a finger that travels over Aofil’s shoulder and lands on the pile inside the bathroom. “That they’re laying on the floor, tossed away like garbage. It's an intriguing sight. Perhaps infuriating is a better word.”

“You can take them back if you want. I don’t really have a use for them.”

Mettaton’s lips twist in thought, and with a now confident smirk he removes his finger from the pile. “No, actually, my dear human. I will not. See it as a gift from me. I do wish that you will treat them as such from now on.”

“Um, sure?”

“It is what Muffet would want, don’t you agree?”

That smile of his indicate he has something planned. “I don’t really see how she fits into this,” Aofil answers.

Mettaton puts his hand up to his mouth to quell a chuckle. “I couldn’t have chosen better words myself, Aofil love.”

Definitely something planned. He would probably deny it if Aofil asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mettaton pats Aofil carefully on their head. “Undyne has rubbed of on you too much, Aofil. Why this suspicion of yours truly and magnificent?”

Aofil’s not really surprised by that.

“Would you look at the time!” Mettaton suddenly realizes, but a bit too much for it to seem natural. “I have to hurry, human dearie. Do send my regards to Undyne and Alphee sweet.”

“Will do.”

“Oh!” Mettaton opens up a small hatch on his chest. Inside is Aofil’s pill bottle. He retrieves it and puts it gently on Aofil’s clothes. “Almost forgot. Anyways, toodles! Don’t forget to buy M!”

Aofil hides the bottle inside their own pair of pants and places their clothes on the toilet lid in the bathroom. Not like Undyne or Alphys are gonna use it anyway. Mettaton knowing about their pills is a huge problem though. His smirk about Muffet is grounds for worry as well.

Alphys needs to find something.

Bridges to cross for later though. Right now Undyne is probably tapping their foot waiting for Aofil to arrive. Shouldn’t keep her waiting too long.

“No!”

Her shout is loud, and that’s with windows and walls between Aofil and Undyne.

“Fine! Go fetch a bench then! Jeez!”

That quick? Who is she talking to?

Just outside the patio door stands Undyne with her hands on her hips looking towards the shed at the end of her back yard. She hears Aofil close the door, and turns her head around. “You look ridiculous!” she chuckles.

“You gave me these,” Aofil reminds.

“They look great on me, of course, but on you?” Undyne stifles a chortle. “Wow!”

Aofil sighs. “Well, it’s not like I’m gonna work out in front of a crowd or anything, and if you were to spread rumors around I would deny them.”

“Ha!” Undyne laughs loudly. “No one would believe that Aofil of all people would dress up this ridiculous.”

Aofil nods. “Exactly.”

“And especially not from me, right?”

Aofil nods again. “Double exactly.”

Undyne’s lips curl into a menacing grin. “But what about?”

“FOUND ONE, UNDYNE!”

Undyne throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Him?”


	84. Working up an appetite

"Is this all that humanity can offer? You're supposed to be so much stronger than me! One more, Aofil!"

The steel bar rests heavy and uncomfortable on Aofil's chest, pressing down on their rib cage. They adjust their grip and collect their air.

With a determined grunt they press with whatever is left of their energy, but the bar doesn't move.

"I know you can do more!" Undyne leans over the bar. "Hit me in the face with it!"

"U-Undyne," Aofil stammers in between their heavy breaths. "I c-can't!"

"I didn't catch that last word, whelp! Nor will I ever catch it! Ngah! Push!"

Aofil tries, but the bar still doesn't move. It's so heavy, their strength is sapped. Gone like the exasperated air Aofil's forcing in and out of themselves.

"You think punks are worthy of my cooking, human? No!" Undyne grabs hold of the bar and pushes it down. Aofil has to summon every ounce left of their stamina to keep it from crushing their ribs. "Punks don't get to taste the fish, punks don't get anything. You are paying for your meal, Aofil, in sweat! And I demand at least an entire ocean of it!” Undyne releases the bar. "Now bench this into outer space! Ngaah!"

The bar moves! It moves slowly, but it's moving. It's shaking like an earthquake, but it's moving! Closer and closer to the resting rack. Ever so closer.

"More, Papyrus!"

What? The bar feels heavier! It’s coming down! No, Aofil's so close. Just a little bit more.

"More!"

It's heavier again, but if they drop it now they'll seriously hurt themselves. The bar is scraping against the rack, just need that last push!

"Last one, Papyrus!"

No! Push it! Give it your all! Don’t give in!

With a soft clank the bar nestles itself into the resting rack. Aofil’s arm falls down on either side, exhausted. They greedily gasp for air to fight off the dizziness closing in around their vision. Undyne helps them sit upright so that Aofil can get more air in. “Gotta work on that stamina, Aofil,” she remarks with a snark, but Aofil can’t find any pause in their breathing to talk back to her. “Good sets though. I’m proud of you!”

If Aofil had any strength left in their body they would return her smile.

Carefully Undyne leans Aofil onto the conquered bar with their arms over it as she returns to her own bench to pick up some dumbbells. Aofil is heaving their chest up and down to inhale all that precious oxygen, every fresh intake is like sweet nectar. Their arms are still shaking a bit, but they’re recovering. Worst of all, it feels good. They’re exhausted, but it feels nice and warm. Like they’ve just survived the worst that could happen in the world, and that they’re still alive to tell about it. They’ve worked hard, and they’re gonna be stronger because of it. No pain, no gain. They’ve had their pain, so all that is left is gain.

“Damn it,” Aofil curses loudly the brief moment they feel they can talk without fainting. “Now I want to do it again!”

“Ha!” Undyne clanks her dumbbells together in a show of respect. “Told ya you’d love it, Aofil!”

“Love is,” Aofil pauses for some much needed oxygen, “the wrong word to use here, Undyne.”

“That’s your wrong opinion, human. I’ll make it right though, trust me on that.”

“Great!” Aofil sighs quickly as to not exhale too much air.

“I’m impressed you managed to hold out against Papyrus’ magic as well as the plates.” Undyne curls both her arms and smile. “I myself consider it cheating, but you’re a human.”

“Papyrus’” Aofil breathes in both through their nose and mouth, “magic?”

“I MADE THE BAR BLUE!” Papyrus slows down his jumping rope so that he can talk and hear through the whipping sound of the rope moving around him incredibly fast.

“Blue?” Aofil asks while flopping their head to the side.

“CORRECT, HUMAN! UNDYNE ASKED ME TO, SO I MADE THE BAR IT BLUE!”

“What’s blue?”

“A COLOR, HUMAN!”

“He made your bar heavier,” Undyne chips in to help.

“Oh,” Aofil tenses up a bit once they realize. It stops their breathing for just a moment though, and almost instantly afterwards their body screams for air, so they clumsily gulp down some more air. Some enter the wrong throat, and they have to quell a burp.

“It gives him a work out as well,” Undyne explains while laying down on her own bench. She switches the dumbbells for a heavier pair, much heavier pair, and presses them up over her chest, “and that’s the cheating part!”

Seeing Undyne focused on her set Papyrus steps in. “IT’S BETTER TO FIND YOUR OWN LIMIT THAN TO HAVE SOMEONE ELSE SET IT FOR YOU, AOFIL! FOR AS MUCH AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, LOVE TO ALWAYS HELP MY FRIENDS, YOUR LIMIT WON’T BE THE SAME AS MINE!”

Undyne prepares for another chest press. “Too little and it won’t be effective, too much and it’s dangerous.”

“But,” Aofil feels like they’ve regained enough strength to sit up on their own. They reach for their water bottle, “having a steel bar over my chest with no energy left to hold it up sounds a bit dangerous to me.”

“IT’S NOT OVER YOUR CHEST NOW!”

“Yes, but what if I dropped it?”

“You had me spotting you,” Undyne reassures, “and Papyrus holding the bar with his magic. I’d never put you in danger.”

Aofil raises an eyebrow, barely.

“Not when it comes to working out,” Undyne adds with a smile.

“And what about finding my own limit? Didn’t you set it for me?”

Undyne puts down her weights and sits up to rest for a bit. “You set it yourself, I just encouraged you to set it higher.” She drinks some water. “And next time it’ll be higher!”

Aofil sighs through their lips. “Of course it will.”

Undyne lies back down and prepares another set. She grabs her weight with an eager grin. “With you being a human you should have no problem keeping up, right? Like this!” She thrusts her weights above her. “Ngah! Even Papyrus...”

The weights fall down from Undyne’s hands, and lodge themselves deep into the grass under her. Her eye twitches, and she sits up slowly. “Papyrus?” she growls through gritted teeth.

He turns around, making another bald patch in the grass with his jumping rope. The white fence behind him is stained by shredded grass and dirt. “YES, UNDYNE?” he asks, digging himself further down into the ground.

Without taking her eye off Papyrus she grabs a hold of his jumping rope mid spin and wraps him up with it, all while grinding her teeth together. She leaves Papyrus with his torso tightly bound with his own jumping rope. “Five hundred laps, Papyrus!”

“AROUND WHAT?” he asks, not making an attempt to free himself.

“The world! To bring me the finest seeds to replant my lawn!” Undyne summons a sharp spear that she lunges between Papyrus’ feet. “Now move it!”

The rope around Papyrus arm budges slightly as he tries to salute, but it stays wrapped. “ON MY WAY!” He takes off running over the fence, kicking up a lump of dirt that lands on Undyne’s shirt.

“If you throw a spear and hit him he won’t be able to get your seeds,” Aofil reminds as Undyne’s wrist twitches and flexes violently. She spins the freshly conjured spear in her hand, eager to throw it.

“I know!” she replies while still keeping her murderous gaze locked on Papyrus skipping over backyard after backyard. “And I hate that you’re right, Aofil!”

“You know what might make you feel better? Some food perhaps?”

Undyne bounces her spear in her hand impatiently, but ultimately settles on just sighing deeply and letting it fade away. She returns to her bench, and picks up her weights. “Let me just work this energy off.”

Aofil drinks some water in the meantime. “Sure.”

They lose count after fifty or so repetitions, but it doesn’t take many minutes before she lets the weight fall back into the dirt, again settling into the same holes they did before. She sits up glistening with sweat and rolls her shoulder. “And that’s how you keep your mind intact with Papyrus around!”

“Do you want me to bring the equipment to the shed?” Aofil offers.

“Nah,” Undyne looks up with her hand above her eyes for shadow. “Doesn’t seem like it’s gonna rain anytime soon. I’ll get it a bit later, might do another session.” She turns to Aofil with a bright smile. “You up?”

“Can’t really answer it on an empty stomach, I’m afraid. Perhaps if I had some lunch in me?” Aofil proposes innocently.

Undyne crosses her arms. “Is that so? Well then, let’s eat!”

Finally!

“After we’ve showered!”

That’s fair.

Undyne rushes in first, almost gliding across the tile floor with the amount of sweat dropping from her. She makes sure to check the sauce and fish before continuing to the bathroom. Aofil decides to enjoy the weather a bit more while they wait for her to finish. They have themselves some more water from their anime decorated bottle in the meantime.

She pops her towel wrapped head out the kitchen window a couple of minutes later. “All done! Your turn. I’ll set the table while you’re showering.”

An intense smell hits Aofil like a heavy wave when they enter the bathroom. Their nose, mouth, sinuses, and lungs, are filled with an overwhelming pink smell. They cough, but it barely helps. It stings their eyes, better hurry into the shower while they can still see.

To Aofil’s delight the falling water helps cover and repel the invasion of whatever that smell is. Taking a glance through the bottles on the shower shelf they hazard a guess that it is one of the many pink colored shower gels on display. Some for scales, some for hair, but none for skin. Figures, neither Undyne or Alphys have any.

They don’t need to use a toilet though, yet still they have one. Aofil reminds themselves to ask about it during lunch.

For now they pick the bottle that looks the least pink. It still smells like a hurricane of pink, but at least it’s not as intense as a tornado. It feels a bit off using it though. The gel is not as soft as they’re used too. To be honest, it’s quite rough. To be able to clean scales? Sounds plausible enough. It certainly cleans Aofil’s skin very well, but they’re probably gonna be red afterwards from the friction.

The shampoo seems human though, and smells very human too. That is to say, somewhat reserved. Still pink, but not eye burning pink. Should they clean their arm too with it? Alphys can wrap it up tight again if Aofil removes it, but that might risk Undyne seeing it. Aofil rubs down their gauze with the shampoo. Some should leak down into their fur.

It’s a good thing Undyne bought their excuse. Hearing that Alphys is practicing her human medicine on a real human had Undyne convinced. Heck, even excited about it.

“Frisk never let’s her try!” Aofil recalls her saying. It’s not until they give it some thought that it starts sounding a bit weird. Why doesn’t Frisk allow Alphys? They afraid she might find out about their sudo curse as well? Perhaps make the connection to Chara?

Or maybe Frisk knows that once they offer but a finger to these people, they’ll eventually ask for the entire body. Only a matter of time now that Undyne will nudge Aofil in the side and propose that Alphys tries to cure their cough or something. Perhaps allow Alphys to saw their leg off and put it back?

Maybe not that extreme. Although ‘maybe’ implies a small chance. A small chance that will probably keep Undyne up at night thinking about how she can convince Aofil.

After rinsing their gauze for a minute or so directly under the shower head to be absolutely sure that the shampoo is washed away from under their fur Aofil turns off the shower and grabs a towel.

“Towel temperature under specified threshold!” informs the towel rack loudly. “Be wary of unpleasant drying!”

Aofil jerks back from the robotic voice, they reach for the towel again, but the rack stays quiet this time. The towel is only mildly warm, but it’s warmer than what they usually use. Aofil narrows their eyes on the dial next to the rack, and their eyes shoot wide open when they see the chosen temperature. The fabric of the towel can almost catch fire at that temperature! Aofil dries themselves off with a sigh.

“I’ll never understand these monsters.”

Mettaton kept his word, to Aofil’s surprise. He actually washed their clothing. He did it thoroughly as well, Aofil’s never felt this clean before. Their phone has some scrapes on it thought. Scrapes that weren’t there before.

Doesn’t seem like Mettaton managed to access it though, or at least, didn’t change anything. For what reason Mettaton would poke around in their phone Aofil can only guess. Whatever reason, Aofil’s gonna be on their toes next time they meet him.

Could also be that Aofil’s playing it up too much in their head. Possibly, but with what happened earlier today, and how it came straight out of the blue, or pink, in this case, Aofil’s already on their toes.

The pink smell fades the closer Aofil gets to the kitchen, and the vague acidic smell of Undyne’s sauce replaces it. A good trade in Aofil’s book.

“You l-look a bit red, Aofil,” Alphys notices from her chair at the dinner table. She carefully beckons for them so that Undyne doesn’t notice. “Is it b-because of t-the tests?” she whispers.

“No,” Aofil whispers back. “It’s your body wash. My skin is smoother than your scales, and your body wash is a bit more rougher than what I’m used to.”

“Alr-right, remember to t-tell me if s-something happens. C-could be import-tant.”

Aofil nods. “Sure. How’re the test going?”

“H-haven’t been able t-to g-get any results yet. It t-takes a while, it’s n-not like the m-movies, even with my magic.”

“Right. Again, thank you for doing this, Alphys.”

A hand slams down on Aofil’s shoulder. “Doing what?” Undyne asks while leaning over Aofil’s other shoulder, completely locking them in place until she gets an answer.

“Just some human medicine Alphys was wondering about.”

“Yeah, you told me that, but what exactly?”

“I let her take some blood from me.”

Technically Aofil’s not lying.

Undyne raises an eyebrow while challenging Aofil’s eyes. A smile breaks through her facade and she squeezes Aofil’s shoulder. “Big mistake! You’re giving up your human secrets willingly! What a fool!”

Undyne returns to her sauce. She makes a final test for taste before clapping her hands, “Perfection!” and brings it to the table. She retrieves the fish from the oven and the pasta as well, placing them next to the sauce. She lifts off the lids and throws them like frisbees into the sink where they crash loudly. “And that’s the lunch bell! Enjoy!”

Alphys serves Aofil some noodles, fish, and sauce. They happily take it and wait for her and Undyne to serve themselves before sampling a taste. Undyne’s been busy these past years, she’s improved a lot.

“Well,” Undyne asks while leaning not too subtly onto Aofil, “how is it?”

“It’s good.”

She shakes her head.

“It’s very good,” Aofil adds.

Still shaking.

“It’s almost perfect.”

Undyne points her fork at Aofil. “Now you’re just teasing!”

Aofil spins their own fork in the pasta, “I know,” and help themselves to another mouthful.

Undyne returns to her own plate while silently scoffing to herself.

It’s nice. It’s really nice. Aofil’s missed this. The loud bombastic events giving way to a quiet and somber meal with friends. If only they could return to this, if only they could move back. Alphys has to find something to help them get rid of this damn curse.

“Swallowed a bone?” Undyne wonders after seeing Aofil’s gritted expression. “Need to use the toilet?”

“Hm? What?” Aofil looks to Undyne before realizing what she said. “Oh, no, it’s fine. Although, come to think of it.”

Alphys and Undyne share a short glance with each other. “I thought it was kinda taboo to talk about toilets and stuff during lunch,” Alphys says with her head tilted towards Aofil.

“Dinner too! Frisk never answers us,” Undyne adds with a twirl of her fork. “We installed it and everything despite not needing it!”

“I mean,” Aofil puts down their fork, “that was what I wanted to ask. Why do you have one?”

“Mostly for Frisk when they’re over. Toriel and Asgore insisted since Frisk and Asriel train with me,” Undyne explains.

Now this is interesting. “Train for what, exactly?”

“Eh,” Undyne shrugs. “Just some ceremonial stuff, you know. They’re the royal siblings after all, so they need to be in shape and be proficient in magic usage. At least, Asriel has to, Frisk usually just watches.”

“I’d imagine being a Boss Monster that Asriel has quite the impressive magic, right?”

Undyne taps her fork impatiently on her plate. “Can you keep a secret?”

She has no idea. Aofil nods.

“His magic...” Undyne sighs through her teeth. “I’ve almost seen snails with stronger magic than him. He tries, even more so than I’ve ever seen Papyrus try, and that’s saying a lot.”

“I can imagine.”

“He’s not too happy about it. Poor kid.“ Undyne stares out the window. “I don’t think he’s told his parents about it. Don’t think that Frisk has either. He’s fantastic at everything physical, but I think he’s a bit ashamed over how weak his magic is. Mind you, I’d never berate him for it,” Undyne makes perfectly clear. Not that Aofil would ever doubt her. “He comes here and gives it his all, and then some more! Heck, he’s almost beaten me! Almost though! Not that I’d ever let him! I can’t train him further if he beats me, right?”

“Student becoming the master?” Aofil teases with a raised eyebrow.

“Over my dust! It does give me motivation to become stronger myself! That whelp will eventually beat me, and when that day comes I will be as happy as a teacher can be! It’s like a kid becoming smarter than you, Aofil!”

“I mean, it’s kinda the goal.”

Undyne snaps her finger. “Exactly! I’ll not make it easy for him though! And I’ll make it even worse for Frisk! And the worst of all,” Undyne summons a spear and points it to Aofil, “is awaiting for you! Finish your meal, human! We’re doing some more after you’ve digested your food. It’s a weakness of you humans, and I’m gonna bask in it.”

Aofil sighs and their shoulder sink. “But I just showered...”

“Yes, for your first training session!”

“And what gives you the impression that it will be a second training session for me?”

Undyne taps Aofil’s arm with her spear. “Because you need it! We can’t the youngsters get the best of us! We have to be the examples they look up to!”

“And besides,” Undyne fizzles away her spear, “Muffet loves muscles. She’ll be all over you with her many spider arms, and more importantly, her doughnuts!”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Undyne.”

“Eh,” she swallows the last piece of fish from her plate, “you’re making the assumption that you have any say in the matter,” and winks playfully, “human.”

Three knocks on the kitchen windows catches the attention of all three inside. “Undyne? Me and Frisk got off earlier from school and...”

Asriel and Aofil’s eyes meet.

Undyne notices the tension building between the two. “Oh yes!” She rubs her hands together. “This is gonna be great!”


	85. Clear the mind before readying your fists

“Please!”

"I've barely finished eating, Undyne!"

The blue hands clasp together in an air tight lock. The bundle of fingers plead desperately. Knees go down on the kitchen tile floor, again pleading entire souls worth. The eyes go soft, a mix of eagerness and desperation clash together forming watery tears that distort the widened pupils begging for hope, begging for the human to accept what the soul behind the yellow eyes long for.

Undyne puts her elbows on Aofil’s thighs and shakes her hands together. “Please! It will look so cool! Just a tiny bit, just a tiny tiny bit?”

Aofil pushes away Undyne’s pointy elbows from their thighs and massages away the pain. “Are you sure even Asriel wants?”

Undyne flies up on her feet again and throws her hand towards the backyard. “Look at him!”

Asriel is sitting on a bench warming up his shoulder. He’s changed into a more loose fitting shirt with Undyne’s face on it.

“He’s just as desperate as I am to see you two fight! Even more so!”

Aofil shakes their head. “This might comes as a surprise to you.”

Undyne starts beaming with excitement.

“But somehow I’m not convinced.”

And immediately after her face sinks down along with her shoulder. Her uneven teeth are exposed in an irritated underbite that she’s grinding side to side. “Don’t have so be dramatic about it.”

“Look who’s talking!”

Undyne waves the accusation off with her hand. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Aofil’s face does the talking. Their stone cold, non flinching face. Doesn’t appear to be enough for Undyne though, so Aofil mouths a very clear, and very articulated, “No!”

Which just slips past Undyne like a sigh in the wind. “You don’t have to go toe to toe or anything. Just lean your feet a bit against each other or something? You know, just a couple of fireballs between friends. I do it all the time with Papyrus, but with spears. Big spears.”

“Which translates to big fireballs between me and Asriel?”

“No, no, no. Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Undyne pinches two of her fingers together while narrowing her eyes at Aofil. “Just small ones. Who knows, maybe he can muster up enough magic for a big one when you’re battling him.”

Aofil crosses their arms. “And why would that be?”

Undyne shoots a glance outside to make sure Asriel’s busy. She leans in closer to Aofil. “I’ve heard him say stuff about you. When he’s going hard on the boxing bag.” Undyne throws a couple of punches in the air. “I mean, I say your name too. Just the usual though, nothing like what he does.”

Aofil’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“You know, the usual. You being a human, and how easy I defeated you when we sparred on Mt. Ebott. So I thought you would spend your time away training to beat me. Which meant I had to keep up!”

“The usual?” Aofil repeats with their eyebrows still high into their forehead.

“I guess… kinda?” Undyne’s hands fall down at her sides. “I had to rationalize you leaving us somehow...”

Oh god, she’s playing that card, and it hits Aofil’s heart perfectly. Piercing right through. The card works, god damn does it work. Aofil’s here because it works. Guess Undyne has to get at least one good use of it before Alphys fixes it for Aofil.

But she hasn’t yet, so Aofil’s forced to go with their conscience. They nod.

Undyne didn’t quite catch it.

Aofil nods again.

Undyne regains her composure, but she still has to wipe away a small tear that barely formed in her eye. “It’s for Asriel sake.”

“Sure it is,” Aofil sighs through their lips, “sure it is. I think I need some new clothes though.” They cock their head towards the bathroom. “The ones I had before have been lying around in sweat for a while now. I know you don’t have a nose, Undyne, but...”

A swift, but loose, bump on Aofil’s shoulder from Undyne shuts them up. “Don’t make statements you aren’t willing to back up in battle, punk. I’ll get you some more clothing, Aofil. Go and have a chat with Asriel, see how he wants you two to fight.”

Aofil clears their throat and halts her in her step out of the kitchen. “Isn’t it better suited if you do it.”

Undyne throws a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m off to get you suited though. Besides, I like to be surprised! And more besides, if I know what you’re doing I might be biased.”

“Or you might know what we plan to do so that you can interrupt if things go too far,” Aofil counters with a tilt of their head and eyebrow.

Undyne returns a wide smile. “I can defeat both of you with both hands tied behind my back. So interrupting you will be no problem whatsoever. Now get out there to the smaller Asgore and get him to spar with you. Ngah!”

She disappears around the corner before Aofil has time to voice any more concerns. Not that she would listen and or take note of them if she stayed. Now that she’s gone though, maybe Aofil can talk a bit to Asriel. See how he feels about yesterday. Maybe break the ice before they break each others noses. Hopefully it won’t be that extreme.

Asriel was a bit pissed when they departed each other last night though.

Well, time to grab the bull by the horns, the goat by the horns, the Boss Monster by the horns. Aofil blows their lips as they stand up and head for the patio door. Yes, Toriel said she didn’t mind to be called a goat nowadays, but Aofil’s pretty sure Asriel would still take mind to it. Gotta keep it to just sparring, not actual fighting.

Although Aofil also wonders if they really should even call him a Boss Monster. He was a bit down and out about the whole concept yesterday, to say the least.

Why even address him with anything besides his name to begin with?

“Careful...”

Aofil trips over a dumbbell lying in the grass. They stumble for a bit before regaining their balance clumsily, and find themselves right next to Asriel, who looks at them perplexed and a bit dazed by the spectacle.

Aofil smiles and stands up straight. “Hello, Asriel. How’re you doing?”

Asriel breaks eye contact and returns to his sit ups. “Stuff and things.”

Aofil takes a seat on the bench that looks the least sweatiest. “Feeling better since yesterday?”

He shakes his head without breaking away from his session. “Nope.”

“Alright,” Aofil nods to themselves. Good job there, idiot. They put their hands together innocently. “You wanna talk about it?”

Asriel keeps his eyes looking at the horizon instead of acknowledging Aofil. “We did plenty yesterday.”

“Maybe now that you’ve digested it a bit?” Aofil proposes while turning their neck around to make sure Undyne is out of hearing distance. They spot some of Alphys’ tail through the basement window, but she should also be out of ear’s reach.

Asriel stops to drink some water. He washes it around his mouth before swallowing hard. “I’m still confused about you, about Chara, about me,” he counts on his fingers, “about my place, about being alive, about why, about how, about when, about everything.” Asriel reaches down under his bench and picks up some dumbbells before lying down on his back with them stretched over him. “So you know,” he laughs with a faint snarl hidden, “the usual.”

His exhales take a more frustrated tone, and his movement becomes more harsher, more violent. Aofil might as well just ask him before they dig this conversation further down into the ground. “So, wanna spar?”

Asriel turns his confused head to Aofil. His lips are curled in such discomfort that it peeks through his befuddled expression. “What?”

Aofil nods towards the house behind them. “Undyne’s suggestion.”

“But why?”

Aofil shrugs. “Something about me being a human, and that you might get stronger if you fight one. Her logic, not mine.”

Asriel carefully puts down his dumbbells and sits up facing Aofil. “Does she know about your curse? Is that why she suggested it?”

That’s a great question. Does she? Aofil’s not entirely sure. “I’m gonna say no, but I’m not certain of it. I sure damn hope she doesn’t.”

Asriel looks at his hand. He flexes them open and close, staring deeply into them. He flicks his wrists, and two flames form inside his palms. They’re small though, barely providing enough light to color his fur orange and red. He clutches his fists together. “Dammit,” he mutters, and slams his fist down on the bench. “Dammit...”

With a deep sigh Asriel drags his hand over his head. “You think...” He halts his words to think, but it only seems to make him more frustrated. “You think you can handle it? My magic, that is. Without feeling your curse?”

Aofil takes note of the shift in Asriel’s tone, but they decide not to mention it, not directly. “So sparring sounds like a good idea to you?”

“I guess? If Undyne thinks so, then maybe it is a good idea?”

“Just like that?”

“Wasn’t that what you just wanted?”

Aofil lifts up a hand. “It wasn’t my idea, it was Undyne’s. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Asriel looks around for the joke Aofil’s apparently telling, but he doesn’t find it. “But I want to.” He lifts a hand of his own, a baffled hand. “I just said that I wanted. If Undyne thinks it’s a good idea, then it is a good idea.”

“Don’t know if I totally agree on you there.”

Asriel’s brow furrows into stone. “You haven’t seen her for years, you don’t know her.”

Aofil motions for Asriel to calm down. “I was just kidding.”

Asriel picks up his dumbbells again, “Sure,” and returns to his chest presses.

Undyne’s taking her sweet time finding some more clothing. Aofil again checks behind them. Still no sight of her. Is she scheming up a plan or something? Or is she giving Asriel and Aofil time? How long does she think the two of them need?

“Mom and dad sent their thanks for the snails, by the way,” Asriel informs with a muttery tone. Sounds like he just wanted to get it out of his head and not think more about it.

“And Frisk?”

“Haven’t had theirs yet.”

Aofil nods. “Right.”

“Mom wonders if you’ll be staying for dinner,” Asriel continues. Still just to get it out of his head.

“Maybe,” Aofil answers with a shrug, “depends. I’ll answer in good time though.”

“Dad also wonders-” With an angry grunt Asriel throws down his weights. “Why?” He flies up like a springboard. “Why you? Why can’t they ask themselves? Why send me? I’m so sick of this!”

Aofil jerks back a bit, but Asriel doesn’t advance in on them.

“I’m so sick of the thought of you. About all of them clinging on to you despite you abandoning them. Why can’t they move on? You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want anything more from us when you left, so why did they treat it as you just going out for groceries?”

Aofil waits for Asriel to run out of air to retort. “They didn’t though.”

Despite not having his breath under control Asriel still continues. “The worst thing,” Asriel coughs as he cuts off his breathing rhythm, “the worst thing is hearing how great you were. What did you actually do, Aofil? I want to hear it from you.”

“I…I just met them. They popped out of the cave, and I was the first human they met on the Surface. Didn’t have anything better to do, so I stuck around.”

“Until you didn’t.”

“Well, yes, that’s true,” Aofil throws their shoulders and arms up, “but what is it you want me to say, really?”

“I don’t know...” Asriel leans his head into his palms. He takes a moment to try and collect himself, drawing tired sigh after tired sigh until he balls his hands under his chin. “I just look at you and I become so frustrated. I don’t know why. It just happens. Like there’s something that just takes over me. Like I’m overwhelmed by anger.”

Sounds familiar. Not a good sign.

“Maybe it’s because you feel it reminds you of how they acted when you and Chara died? Sounds the same to me.”

“Maybe,” Asriel scratches his muzzle, “maybe. Or perhaps life just wants to throw whatever shit it has on me now that I’m alive. I came back from the dead so I’m not allowed to complain, right?” Asriel scoffs. “I’m acting like a child! Fucking joke, everything.”

“To be fair, I’m the only one you can take it out on. Might even be the best choice even if I wasn’t the only one.”

Asriel shakes his head. “Shouldn’t even take it out on you. What good is a prince if he can’t handle his emotions.”

“At least the prince is alive,” Aofil reminds.

Not to great effect. “Alive to feel all the shit weighing me down.” Asriel drags his hands over his eyes. “I just want to not think about it, not think about anything from before.”

“I know,” Aofil nods along while looking off to the side, “I know. You feel a bit better talking about it though?”

“Yeah,” Asriel admits. “I do. Thank you.”

“I don’t want to sound rude or anything,” Aofil taps their fingers together while searching for the least hostile words to use, “but have you tried talking to a professional? Not about Chara or that, but about what you can talk about. Like being a prince despite you not feeling like one. It might not take all the weight off you, but it might help a bit.”

“Mom and dad have noticed, but I’ve always played it off. They haven’t suggested it, and I don’t want them to, ever. I know how to fake emotions.”

“Not really because of a good reason that you learned to though.”

“Besides, who can I talk to? Humans wouldn’t understand, and neither would any monster. The only one I can think of is that small dog that’s running around, but only because it wouldn’t even understand the words I’m saying. It’s not intelligent enough to not understand my situation.”

Aofil puts their hand up while curling and stretching their lips while debating whether or not to say something. “I mean...” slips out of them though.

Asriel shuts Aofil down with a glare. “I’ve already tried. Didn’t work.”

“Alright then. If you say so.”

“I’m saying so.”

With a sympathetic nod Aofil agrees to drop the subject. “Fine.”

“Thanks.”

“You just tell me if you want to talk more,” Aofil offers. “You’re still a kid, after all.”

“You have your own problems.”

“I know,” Aofil rubs their arm through sheer reflex. Luckily they realize and stop before Asriel notices, “but you’re the prince so you take priority.”

“Don’t. Please.”

“Right,” Aofil tilts their head to show that they’re sorry, “don’t bring it up.”

The patio door opens a couple of silent minutes after, and Asriel and Aofil welcome the whatever change in subject the person might bring.

It’s not Undyne though.

“Asri...”

Frisk’s mouth shuts close hard when they spot Aofil. They freeze for a split second, and then drop their pile of towels and water bottles in their hands. Their neck twitches, and they rush back inside. It’s not long before they’re out of view, but during the few seconds Aofil sees them through the kitchen window Frisk is clasping their head and weaving as if they’re losing their balance.

Asriel takes after Frisk, almost knocking over his bench when he springs up on his feet. “Frisk!” Aofil decides to follow. Asriel holds the door open for them and the two of them follow Frisk out the front door and down the gravel path leading to the street.

Frisk is taking support on the anime decorated mailbox at the end of the gravel path. Their hand is clutching the mail box, and almost crushing it too. Asriel reaches Frisk first, and they jerk back in fear when Asriel puts their hand on their shoulder.

Asriel’s in a state of close panic. “How are you? Are you hurt?” He quickly checks Frisk for any wounds or anything that could explain it, but he doesn’t find anything. “What is it?”

Aofil catches up to the siblings shortly after. “Should I fetch Alphys, Frisk? She knows some human medicine.”

Frisk shakes their head and motion for both Asriel and Aofil to stay away.

Asriel fumbles through his pockets. “You want me to call mom?”

Hard shake. Frisk takes one final glance on Aofil before they burst up the road towards their home. Asriel wants to follow, but Frisk motions for him to stay where he is. He watches them run all the way up the road. Frisk slams the door behind them once they reach their home.

Asriel stands still, breathing heavily. He’s too stunned to know how to react. He looks over to Aofil, but they can only shrug. “First time Frisk did something like this?” they ask to try and understand themselves.

Asriel shakes his head. “Yeah, never seen them do something like this. Can it be a human illness or something?”

“Anything that involves sudden pain in the head is a bit worrying, but Frisk shouldn’t have anything. It’s usually much, much later in life that something like that should happen.”

“Usually...” Asriel hangs on the word. “Their resets,” he whispers.

Aofil realizes that it was the wrong thing to say. “And by that I mean that it rarely ever happens in the first place,” they try to salvage. “Forget what I said. No, I don’t think it’s a human illness.”

Too little, too late?

Arsiel stares towards his house with eyes that seem to go right through the door. “Maybe...”

Maybe?

A notification sound escapes his pant pocket, and Asriel picks up his phone. He reads it for a bit before showing it to Aofil.

“Sorry for scaring you, bro. Just had a huge headache all of a sudden. It’s fading now, but I’m gonna skip the gym today. I’ll have mom check on it, just in case, but I feel fine now. She’s home now, so keep doing your workout,” the message from Frisk reads.

Aofil hands Asriel his phone back. “Still sure it’s nothing?” he asks with worry in his voice.

“Could be the sun? Maybe not enough water? If it’s fading then it maybe was just a one time random thing that just, you know, happened, all of a sudden, without rhyme or reason. Just breezed by, so to speak. I’ve had some of that for myself before.”

Asriel nods, but Aofil can tell he’s not completely convinced.

“Frisk said that Toriel’s home too. She can heal it, if it’s still there.”

Asriel looks down at his hands. He huffs angrily at them and snap his head to Aofil. “Undyne said that you sparring with me might help my magic?”

“Something along those lines, yeah.”

“Then let’s do it. If it happens again then I want to be able to heal Frisk so that mom doesn’t have to worry.”

Good a motivation as any. Aofil puts up an encouraging thumb.“I’ll do my best. Just need to wait for Undyne to get me some training clothes.”

A loud and sharp whistle from Undyne and Alphys’ house cuts Aofil and Asriel’s ears, and they both recoil from it. They turn around to Undyne hanging her head outside the bathroom window. “Where do you think you’re going, punks?” She forms a spear in her hand that dangles outside the window along with her head. “No way am I letting you run away from this! You’re gonna spar!”

“I need my clothes for that!” Aofil shouts back.

“Five more minutes in the dryer! Now get back behind the house and clean up unless you’ve already done it! I don’t want you tripping over stuff and embarrassing yourselves. Ngah!”

Undyne closes the window.

Asriel looks up the road again. His fists clenches tighter. “Please let this work.”

Aofil takes lead back up the gravel path. They spot Alphys tinkering with a microscope through a window in the house foundation. “Same here, kid,” they pray under their breath.


	86. A method of coping

"I just..."

Aofil's brow furrows in thought. They cough one last time to clear the impact of falling flat on their back.

"Why did we think this would end any different?"

The grass in the backyard feels a bit different than the lawn at the front. It's cut a bit differently. The blades of grass have more of an angle to them compared to the more flat slice at the frontyard.

Undyne’s face pops into view as she squats down next to Aofil. “You alright?”

“Seriously,” Aofil readjusts their focus from the green grass to the blue face, “why did we think this would be different than all the other times I’ve sparred with any of you?”

Undyne rubs her chin while tilting her head from side to side. “You know,” she glances up to Asriel flexing his hands, “sometimes you gotta play the wild card to win the hand. Maybe you learned a bit from watching me slap Mettaton around earlier today?”

“Didn’t he catch you?”

“Ha!” Undyne offers her hand. “He only caught me because I started laughing. Like I said, wild card.”

“Like you would have enough patience for poker.” Aofil accepts Undyne’s outstretched hand. “Or the face for it.”

Undyne helps Aofil up on their feet, “One of the few cases were I have to give Sans credit,” and assists them in brushing off the grass from their back. “You can’t read anything on that smile of his.” She picks off a small stick from Aofil’s shoulder and flicks it away. It lands just in front of Asriel, and he picks it up.

“Pretty sure that he cheats with his magic though. You see him twitch just the slightest and,” Undyne glances a slap to get the last pieces of grass off Aofil’s back. The pieces flutter in the air. “Whoosh! The cards fly all over the place.”

“And then he blames it on the draft?” Aofil guesses.

Undyne nods as Aofil’s right on the money. “And somehow he wins the pot, or calls my bluff.”

“Well I never.”

“Hey!” Undyne throws a friendly bump on Aofil’s shoulder. “I’m sure I can fit you in one day! It’s always hilarious to see Asgore trying to bluff. He gets very touchy with his beard once he has a good hand, that’s his tell!”

Why not? “Sounds nice.”

“Yo, Asriel!” Undyne whistles loud and sharp, almost breaking Aofil’s eardrum. “How does your old man cope with me always knocking him out almost instantly? Does he wash his beard after I wipe the floor with him? Ngah!”

Her laughter goes straight through Asriel, who’s soul focus is on the stick. His eyes are fixed and locked tight on it. He places it in the palm of his other hand, and closes it inside his forming fist. A faint orange glow pulsates in his hand, and when he opens it the stick is no longer there. A pile of ash remains which he sighs at. The small and black particles spread out over the grass. He moves his eyes to Aofil, and with a disappointing shake of his head he walks back to his bench.

Undyne is quick to steal Aofil’s attention. “He’s disappointed in himself, Aof. Don’t worry!” She flashes a reassuring smile. It fades as quickly as it forms though, and she looks over to Asriel to make sure he’s busy before leaning in towards Aofil. “He might’ve hyped it up a bit too much in his head.”

“Only he though?” Aofil shoots back with a whisper. “He told me you had been hyping me up as well.”

Undyne tilts her head back. “Me?” she asks with a raised brow.

“You in general.”

Undyne lets it sink in for a couple of seconds before again whistling to Asriel. Aofil has to throw their hand up to cover their ear quickly as to not become deaf. “Az!” Undyne shouts. “Gotta work on your back a bit now! It’ll help your posture as well. Get those toned and thumping so that I can teach you some of my special moves. Ngah! I want to be able to squeeze my orange juice for tomorrow when I come back to your back! Ngahaha!”

Her encouraging and brimming smile again fades away in an instant as she turns back to Aofil. “Should keep the kid busy, let’s head inside.”

Undyne closes the patio door behind Aofil with a heavy sigh. She sits down next to Aofil with her hand and elbow holding her head up. With another tired exhale she sits up straight. “When you left us, Aof, we...” Undyne has to bite down on her knuckles, “we we’re kinda in a panic. You didn’t say goodbye to me or Alphys. You just...”

Her fist slams down on the table, cracking it, and almost in two. She lifts her fist up again to her mouth after gritting her teeth through the impact. “You just packed up and left. Not even packed up even. You just…”

“I’m-”

Undyne puts her hand up. “No, don’t say anything. It’s better if you don’t say anything. I can’t do a back and forth, not on this,” she scoffs, knocking away the tiniest of drop from her eye. “Toriel or Asgore can probably explain it better, but I feel like it’s better that you hear the sloppy version first before you hear one from someone who’s entire job is to explain difficult things. If anything it’ll ease you into the royals’ explanation, right?”

Aofil’s not really sure how to react here. Undyne is smiling at them, yes, but god damn is it plastered. How much is behind it?

“Sure,” is the only thing Aofil can muster.

“So,” Undyne collects herself for another attempt, “you left us. You abandoned us. I know you didn’t, we all know you didn’t, but we all felt like you did. We’d known you for so long, and then you just left us! The first human we met on the Surface, the first human for our new chapter.”

Undyne snaps her fingers. “Gone! Hopped in a cab and never looked back!”

She’s wrong. So so wrong. Aofil remembers wishing that they could never look back. The couldn’t though, they were always reminded. The dreams, the thoughts, their arm. Everything! Not to mention the horror they felt when they found out about the first wave that would integrate into the human society.

Realizing that what Aofil had tried to escape was following them. Their arm screaming every second a monster was near them. Only stopping once Aofil was exhausted. Only stopping when they…

No! They can’t think back, they can’t fall back into that void again. They have to stay focused! Undyne’s finally gonna explain it all, so they have to listen! They can’t fade away in thought like this.

“Aofil?”

Aofil realizes that they’re clutching their hands something fierce. They ease their grip. “Sorry. You can continue.”

Undyne waits for a moment to make sure Aofil means it. “Suddenly the first human we met was gone. Was it our fault? Can we even live here on the Surface if we scare the humans away? If we drive them away?” Undyne tilts her head towards the kitchen window. She rests her eyes on Asriel doing his routine. “And on top of that, the prince was alive again.” She throws a hand towards him. “Just look at him. The reason Asgore declared war against humans is doing back exercises in my home on the Surface. The same back exercises I did during my post down in the Underground. The same exercises I did so that when the time came, I could lay waste to the humans under the flag of monsters taking back what the humans deprived us of. Under the lead of a king turned god, the power of seven human souls bottled up and commanded by Asgore.”

Undyne catches her breath. “Yet, here the prince is,” she sighs, ”making the same shortcuts I did when I was a novice,” and stands up from her chair. She opens the kitchen window. “You’ll scrunch up your core if you don’t do those rows properly! Toriel will have my head if you come home to her looking like a literal question mark! Ngah!”

Undyne closes the window, but keeps herself standing in place. “He’s so grown up now. It feels like it was only yesterday that I told him to wait a couple of years for his body to mature a bit more before he could even fathom to survive what I had in store for him.”

With her hair whipping against the window sill, almost knocking of some spices, Undyne turns back to Aofil with a conflicted smile birthed from the contradiction she just realized. “Which is a bit strange,” she scoffs and scratches her cheek, “since I feel like it’s been ages since you disappeared, Aof.”

After seeing that Asriel is doing his exercising properly Undyne returns to her chair. “The shock of you being gone wasn’t the easiest to process. What with all we had on our table regarding resurfacing.”

“Trouble?”

Undyne shakes her head, “No,” but then thinks it over and instead nods with her head tilting from side to side. “Yes? Maybe? I mean, we’re building our own city for crying out loud! On the fricking Surface! With humans helping us! To you, living on the Surface might sound normal, but to us it’s the craziest thing! There are monster kids that have been born on the Surface, Aofil! Kids that have never seen the Underground in there entire life! That’s unbelievable! We have monsters living in human cities!” Undyne leans back in her chair with her arms crossed. “Toriel wants me to say just cities,” she reminds herself with a whisper before uncrossing her arms and returning her focus to Aofil. “And! We have humans working here in our city. They’re all working for that pink postbox, granted, but still. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Met one yesterday,” Aofil recalls. “A human girl working at the MTT store.”

The words don’t reach Undyne though. “And the kids back at the makeshift school we had in the Town Hall. They’re not kids anymore, but back then... They didn’t stop asking for you, Aofil. Never stopped wondering when you would return.”

“And so did we…” Undyne looks through Aofil. “Days, weeks, months, and before we knew it had become an entire year without you. Had Frisk not been there for us.” Undyne puts her hand over her mouth as her eye starts watering. “That kid, they’ve done so much for us. Still doing so much for us. Frisk was, and is, the glue holding us together during all these years. I don't mean this is any disrespectful way, Aofil, but it's sure as hell gonna sound like it, what you've done barely holds a candle to what Frisk has done for us. Helping us, making us determined beyond our wildest dreams. Is it weird if I think that Frisk made us feel human?”

How could it not? “What do you mean, exactly?” Aofil wonders very curiously.

Undyne chuckles away some tears from her eye. “You humans know determination far more than we monsters do. You’re practically swimming in it while we have just a drop, so to speak. With Frisk with us though!” Undyne clashes her hands together with an excited grin taking over her face. “I feel like I can do anything! I love that little brat, they’re a brat in all the good ways. The lip on that kid is sharper than my spears, let me tell you.”

Not that Aofil would know. “They’re still the ambassador for you?”

Undyne shakes her head slowly. “No, never was. Toriel might’ve said that they were between us friends, but never officially. Even I know that, Aof! I mean, Frisk did make headlines about being a human child in the care of the monster royals, but you know, never official.”

“Gotcha.”

“But anyways,” Undyne shrugs carefully and accompanies it with a small sigh, “yeah, things were tough. All the legislation, all the bureaucratic stuff that I had to stay awake for. It was hell, I tell you.”

“But it resulted in you monsters getting a foot back onto the Surface, right?”

Undyne nods, but it’s reserved. Her eyes lose focus, and drift off into the horizon. “It resulted in that damn riot. Everything we tried to do, it all almost went up in dust right before our very eyes. It was supposed to be where we and the humans came together, but not like that!”

The table finally cracks under Undyne’s fist. Cyan sparks dance sporadically around her fist as she clenches it tighter than ever before. Aofil regains their balance after having the table cave under their arms. “Undyne?”

Her lips expose a set of tortured and dreaded teeth clenching their damnedest to hold in the storm brewing inside. “I...” she breathes heavily through her wall of white, “I almost killed someone.”

Aofil puts offers their hand to her, very carefully. “Undyne?”

She doesn’t see it. “I was so close to losing control. Had Asgore not spoken up and given me the window to get things under control. To get myself under control.”

“But he did, Undyne.”

She nods. “He did.”

“He did.”

“The weeks following the riot. I nearly lost my mind.” Undyne sinks down in her chair with her chin supported by her arms resting their elbows on her knees. “Seeing everything crumble like it did. Again, had Frisk not been there, I don’t know if we even would still be on the Surface.”

“I talked with a monster yesterday about this. About the riot.” Aofil finally manages to catch Undyne’s attention. “He said that it eventually mellowed out.”

A small smile on Undyne’s lips gives Aofil immense relief. “It did. Somehow it did. I’m not gonna question how, I’m just so relieved that it happened. We could move on, we could make a new home on the Surface.”

Aofil taps their foot on the tile floor. “You sure did.”

“Dammit!” Undyne rubs her hands on her face tiredly. “Sorry, Aof, here I am talking about me when I brought you aside to talk about you.”

“Hard times to talk about?”

She nods while dragging her hands down her cheeks. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Alright,” Undyne refocuses herself and her thoughts, but it takes a minute or so, “about Asriel. From what I could gather from Frisk.” She takes a quick look out the window just to make sure Asriel’s still busy. “Asriel has been a bit...”

“Under the weather?”

“Yes, to say the least. I’ve asked Frisk about it, if I can help. Help more than whipping him into the best shape of his life, that is, but once Frisk stops talking there’s no determination strong enough to open them up. It’s pretty obvious that everything’s weighing him down though. He says he’s fine, and from what I’ve seen he is, but seeing how Frisk acts around him, it’s pretty obvious. Only thing Frisk has asked me is to keep quiet about it. I’m assuming to Toriel and Asgore, maybe Pap and Sans too, Alphys as well,” Undyne lifts an eyebrow, “but I’m pretty sure you should know, because of…well...everything.”

Aofil’s not entirely sure what she means by that. “Everything? You gotta have to be more specific with which ‘everything’ you’re talking about here.”

“You know,” Undyne crosses her arms and taps her fingers impatiently, as if she’s waiting for a bomb to explode, “with you being the first human we met, a teacher for the kids, a really good friend to all of us. You opened up your home to us, your soul as well, and you saved saved Asriel along with Frisk. You’re pretty much a grown up version of Frisk.”

Aofil’s not entirely sure if they’re comfortable with that comparison.

Undyne sighs. “And that’s the problem. The adult Frisk left us. The adult Frisk didn’t want to stay with us, didn’t want to help us.”

The adult Frisk isn’t at all happy about where this is going. Not at all.

“It’s just, you know, made sense for you to be that, you know? For Asriel.” Undyne scoffs nervously. “I mean, you kinda did what Frisk did, but on the Surface. We met you and you helped us through some rough time. I’m underplaying you both here, but you catch what I’m saying here, right? It just made sense for you to be the adult Frisk. A human we could all look up to, someone who would help us with this new chapter of ours.”

Aofil’s conflicted expression hits Undyne like a brick. She scratches her cheek anxiously. “So, now that I think about it, with you being here,” she pauses for a split second to come to terms with what she’s saying, “you’ve kinda ruined it.”

“I’m...” Aofil leans back in their chair while staring into nothingness. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh my god.” Undyne clutches her head as it becomes light as a feather. “I’m not sure if there is a good way of saying this, but yeah, Aofil, you’ve ruined it by showing up.”

Aofil’s stunned. What the hell? Ruined it? They never asked it to be built in the first place! That’s why they left! What have the monsters been doing?

“Why?” Aofil tries to formulate whatever words they can, but it’s not working. They’re stunned beyond belief.

Undyne tries to save it by smiling warmly and throwing her arms out. “Hey, I’m not saying that we’re glad to see you. Hell, we’re overwhelmed to see you, Aof! No one’s gonna be mad with you back!” Her smile disappears in the blink of an eye though, and her arms fall down when she realizes that there’s no saving this situation. “Except, well...” Undyne nods in defeat, “Asriel.”

“I...I don’t know what to say to this.” Aofil caresses their chin, but it isn’t helping. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry.” Undyne hangs her head. “Looking back at it now with you here. You just...” she tries to cover her mouth, but it fails, “you just disappeared. Just gone, after all you did for us.”

“It was because of all I did that I left, Undyne.”

“Frisk talked their way to saving us.” Undyne’s head snaps up. “So why didn’t you talk to us about it? Why did you just leave? We could’ve worked something out!”

“Because I didn’t want to become a fucking hero,” Aofil roars back through gritted teeth, “but apparently I became one regardless of my say in the matter!” They sink their heavy head into their exhausted hands- “It was too much for me. I’m not someone special like Frisk. I was just the first human you saw! It just happened! Not for a reason or anything, it just happened. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

Undyne face dips into a conflicted frown. “W-wrong?”

“It’s what I’ve been feeling for the past years, Undyne. I don’t hate you, or Toriel, or anyone else, for that matter, but...” Aofil grunts hard to let out some anger while they still have some control over it. “As it stands, and as I look back at it, I can only see the horrible things that have happened. I want to see the good things, I want to be happy that it all happened, but I can’t! It hurts too much.”

An uneasy silence hangs in the air, smothering both Undyne and Aofil. The truth pushes down on them like a thick blanket.

It takes a long while before Undyne muster enough strength to ask. She knows the answer, but she has to ask anyway. “So you’re not moving back to us?”

“I’m not sure if you should even be asking that right now. Besides, even if I wanted it wouldn’t be fair to myself to even consider it.”

Undyne stands up, and makes her way around the broken table. She stops next to Aofil, who also stands up. “I guess,” she says with her lips quivering like a recently plucked guitar string. “I guess this time you’ll say goodbye though. So that’s a plus, right?”

She finally breaks. Aofil catches her as she wraps her arms around them. “Goodbye, Undyne.” Aofil wraps her back. “You have no idea how much I want to move here, but I can’t. It would be unfair for me to do that to myself.”

She squeezes Aofil tightly, pushing them against her. “Promise me you’ll work out so that you’re strong enough to face me next time. Alright?”

If there even is a next time…

Undyne lets Aofil go. She tries to dry her eye, and then bumps Aofil on the shoulder. “Can you say goodbye to Alphys as well before you leave? I know I’m in no position to ask, but for old times sake? The good old times sake?”

“I’ll do that.”

Undyne again tries to remove the flooding tears in her eye. “Good. Thank you.”

Aofil breaks eye contact, because Undyne would never want to. They hang just inside the basement door for a minute to try and collect themselves. It doesn’t work, not in the slightest. They’re shattered, even more so than what they were when they arrived. They knew it was a mistake to come here! Why did Aofil think it would end any damn different?

Alphys has to have found something! She has to! Something good needs to come out of this!

Aofil knocks on a piece of plank standing next to the bottom of the stairs. It catches Alphys’ attention, and when she sees who it is, she immediately starts to wring her hands. “A-Aofil...”

“Have you found something?”

“Y-y-y-yes-s-s.”

Aofil stops in their track.

“I f-found it-t a w-while ag-go act-tually, b-b-b-ut,” her breathing increases. “P-please d-don’t b-be m-m-mad at m-me!”

“What?” Aofil walks up to her a bit too quickly. “What did you find!”

“N-n-nothing.” Alphys wrings her tail until it almost snaps in two. “I f-foun-nd nothing.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing’?”

Somehow, Alphys wrings her tail even harder. “I-I k-knew I s-should-dn’t h-have d-done it-t.”

“Alphys!” Aofil grabs her shoulders. “What did you find!”

“Y-you h-have n-nothing ab-bnor-rmal w-with y-you.”

Aofil hastily removes their arm from Alphys’ shoulder and unwraps it. “Then what about this!” They almost shove it right in Alphys’ face. Aofil runs their fingers through the white fur. “How is this not abnormal?”

“I m-meant y-you s-soul.” Alphys cowers behind her tail and hands. “Y-your d-determination.”

Aofil fumbles for something to sit down on. Their hand finds a chair, and they manage to sit down just in time. “My determination?” Aofil grabs whatever paper they can find around Alphys, but they can’t understand anything. They look around for anything that’s legible for them, and at the bottom of one page they find something scribbled with a barely readable set of letters.

“no difference.”

“A-Aofil...” Alphys says from behind her tail and hand.

It tears Aofil from the pages, and they meet her eyes with their own. What does it mean? She has to tell them!

“Y-you h-have n-no c-curse.”

The papers fall daintily to the floor.


	87. Behind the veil

"No!"

Aofil stumbles backwards, hastily fumbling for a grip on the wall mounted cupboard. They knock a couple of flask out of the way in their hectic scrambling, and one rolls off the cupboard and bounces loudly on the cement floor.

"No, my soul is cursed! Y-you must be wrong, Alphys! You only ran one set of tests."

She cowers behind her tail.

"My soul," Aofil moves their hand up their chest, "my soul is broken. Why else would I be feeling this way? Why else would I have had it flourishing every single day?"

Their fingers clutches their skin tightly. "Look!" Aofil focuses their entire being, "It's-"

A red glow fills the basement with long and slick shadows dancing on the walls and floor because of Aofil's shaking fingers. Aofil stares at the crimson heart in fear, in dread. Sharp gasps bring in just enough oxygen to fight away the sinking feeling draining them of color and strength. The red soul hovers gently in Aofil's grasp, just above the fur on their arm.

Throughout the soul, slithering through the cracks present, like a glistening river in a vast landscape of blood, runs a thread not of red.

"What?"

But of white.

"No..."

The same white that is staining their arm.

"No."

Is staining their soul.

"No!"

Aofil reaches for it, they need to get it out! It can't be there, it can't be holding their soul together.

A flash of surging pain shoots through Aofil once their finger touches their soul. They recoil back, gliding down to the floor with their back against the cupboard.

They reach for the white snake in their forest of red again. They have to get it out!

The resulting pain forces their arm back, and their elbow crashes against a cupboard door. The impact shakes the entire structure causing a small knife to fall off and land next to their leg. It's the instrument Alphys used to remove the tissue from their arm.

Aofil picks it up. If it can remove the white from their arm it should be sharp enough to remove the white from their soul!

"A-Aof-fil!"

Alphys rushes as fast as she can to the human about to gouge their own soul. She wraps both of her arms around Aofil's hand that's clutching the knife. Leaning back with all her weight, she halts the first attempt, but she instantly feels Aofil winding their arm back for another try.

"A-Aof-fil! Don't! You'll d-die!"

"I need to!" Aofil fights against Alphys, shaking their arm wildly. "It can't be like this!"

Alphys hangs on, but just barely. She’s losing grip! Desperately, she tries to restrain Aofil's hand, but she's slipping! The scalpel is closing in! She doesn't have time to call for Undyne! She has to do something!

Now!

Alphys whips her tail around and slams it into Aofil's soul. The hit radiates throughout Aofil, echoing inside them an unimaginable pain through every bone and cell. They drop the knife as they clutch their torso in a desperate attempt to endure the pain. The bouncing metal sound is quickly drowned out by Aofil's pained scream. It startles Alphys, and she lets them go while putting her mortified hands up to her muzzle.

Aofil bends over in agony, absorbing their soul back into them in the process. They collapse on the floor, sobbing and breathing sharply and irregularly as they heave from the anguish pulsating within them.

Alphys looks at her hands, terrified over what she has done. “Not again.” Her face contorts as she balls her hands into two lamenting fists. “Not again!”

The basement window suffers violent knocks. A muffled voice full of worry just barely makes it through the thick glass.

But there is no answer.

A few seconds later the basement door explodes open and a set of hasty footsteps makes their way down the stairs.

“Alphys? Aofil?” Undyne shouts, mortified over the image before her. “What’s happening?”

Aofil slowly braces their weight on their arm. Their chest is still thumping with agony, but they have to get up. They have to get out of here!

Undyne helps Aofil up on their knees. Carefully she leans them back onto the cupboard. She checks quickly to make sure that there’s no immediate bleeding or damage. “Sit still, alright Aof?”

She rushes over to Alphys to make sure she’s fine. “Alphee? What happened here?” She gently tilts Alphys’ head to make eye contact with her. “Look at me, Alphee. You’re safe, I’m here.”

“I-I d-did it-t a-ag-gain, Un-n-dy!” Alphys dives onto Undyne’s shoulder. “I-I d-did it ag-gain! I-It’s h-happ-pening ag-gain!”

Undyne eases Alphys down on the floor with her. “It’s fine, Alphee. It’s fine. I’m here,“ she reassures warmly. “I’m here with you, it’s safe now.”

Aofil collects whatever breath they can. They place their hand down on the floor for support, but it slips and they fall back down with a pained groan.

Undyne snaps her head around. “Don’t move!” she commands. “I don’t know if you’re hurt or not, so stay fricking still!”

Aofil needs to get out of here! They can’t stay any longer! They again try to prop themselves up on their legs.

“I said don’t move, Aof!”

A spear crashes next to Aofil. It fizzles before bending over Aofil’s legs, holding them in place. Aofil grabs the spear to try and rip it loose, but it’s locked tight. “Let me go!” they slam their fist on the spear, but it does nothing. “Let me go!” Aofil’s tears evaporate into small puffs of steam as they land hard on the magical shackles.

Aofil stares at the fur on their arm. It can’t be! It can’t be helpful! No! Never! Alphys’ wrong! “You’re wrong!” they shout to the hunched over yellow lizard. “It is a curse!” Aofil raises their fur stained armed, and slams the patch down on the cyan magic stretching over their legs.

Immediately a surge shoots out of their arm, and immediately their fur reacts. Aofil’s entire being is filled yet again, a familiar and warm wave surges through them, enveloping them throughout.

Something’s wrong! Aofil doesn’t feel nauseous, they don’t feel it to be wrong, but that’s wrong. It’s supposed to be wrong! Why does it feel right? They’re reinvigorated! Their breathing is calming and their pain is fading. No! No, that’s all wrong! Aofil doesn’t accept it, they refuse it!

They try and force a heave from their stomach, but it refused.

They try and give in to the anger, but they’re being soothed.

They’re not filled by dread, fear, nor anger.

They’re filled with determination!

Aofil again grips the conjured hobble around their legs. Why do they have strength for it? They feel the magic give in to their efforts. Why does it budge?

With a determined pull the shackles come off. They sizzle away in the air around Aofil as they stand up. Aofil puts their hand over the patch of fur. It’s warm, comforting, soft. Why?

“God dammit!”

Aofil slams their fist down on the cupboard. Their hand starts shaking from the pain, but another wave from their fur calms it. They slam their fist down harder, feeling their bones crack from the impact. Before the pain can reach their head though another soothing wave erases it completely. Aofil’s left gritting their teeth against nothing. Clutching against pain that never arrives.

Their stain is healing them, helping them stay alive. Helping them stay determined.

But.

Aofil falls back down on their knees.

It’s not supposed to…

Their head falls into their hands.

It’s not supposed to!

Thick tears find their way through the tiny cracks in between Aofil’s fingers, dripping like light rain onto the cold and gray cement floor. Aofil wants to fall over, they want to lay down and disappear, but they can’t help but feel like they can take on the world. How? Why are they like this? It’s a curse, why is it helping them?

It’s the reason for everything! It’s the reason why they’re tired. It’s the reason why they’re angry. It is to blame for everything! It’s because of their curse that they had to move away. Why they had to leave their friends without as much as a goodbye.

It’s why Aofil abandoned them.

It’s why Aofil has to abandon yet again. They have to leave Tylior, their job, their friends, because Aofil can’t live with monsters. Aofil’s cursed! They’re allergic to magic. They have to get away from it.

So why is their arm healing them? How can they feel better from something that is the reason they’re feeling this horrible?

“I don’t understand.” Aofil clutches their head. “I don’t understand!”

What can they do? The only thing that helped them before. They have to get away, they have to abandon what their curse have stained. Their friends, their everything. Aofil’s a threat. They can lose themselves to their curse. They can be taken over by magic they never asked to wield.

Aofil removes their hands to discover a small puddle between their knees from their tears. They stand up. It’s so easy. Why is it so easy? They don’t feel tired, they don’t feel exhausted.

How can Aofil’s body be so against them? Their body prospers from their curse. It grows stronger. Is it even their own? Is it Chara’s? Did the switch really happen that day at their summer home? Aofil’s cursed soul in Chara’s body. Is that why this is happening?

Aofil’s head feels lightheaded, their entire world is spinning. In their fumbling their foot pokes at the knife on the floor. Aofil tries to focus on it, but their eyes refuse. They know what it is though. They see enough to know where it is.

Aofil needs to get away from their curse.

They pick the scalpel up.

Aofil needs to get away from their own body!

A blue hand snaps at Aofil’s wrist from outside their field of vision. Their arm is twisted around, and Aofil loses control of their hand. The knife again lands on the ground, but this time Undyne kicks it away as hard as she can. It embeds itself inside a gizmo on the other side of the basement.

With her eyes screaming anger and confusion she throws out her other arm, firing a spear into the backrest of a chair on the other side of the basement. A ghostly chain forms, connecting the spear and Undyne’s outstretched arm. She tugs at it, and the chair flies into her hand. She spins Aofil around, “Don’t!” and slams them down into the chair, “Move!”

She spins Aofil back around and gabs hold of their head. “The hell were you doing with that knife?” she shouts into their face.

Aofil can’t answer, their head is too jumbled.

“And why is your forearm covered in fur?”

“C-curse,” Aofil mumbles, not loud enough for Undyne to hear.

“And why are you looking fine yet acting like someone possessed?” Undyne's frustration over her failure to understand anything that’s happening boils over, and she clutches her own head. “Ngah! You almost stabbed yourself, Aofil!”

“I need to get away...”

“No! You’re staying right here until you’ve told me everything.” Undyne snaps her head over her shoulder. “You too, Alphys! Asriel’s on his way to fetch Toriel, so if you’d rather that I know than any of them now is the time to speak up!”

No answer.

“That wasn’t a question!”

No answer.

“And don’t you two ever think that I enjoy this!”

Alphys looks over to Aofil, who’s slumped over in their chair. Their eyes are glazed and focused on a horizon far far away. She lowers her head. “A-Aofil, t-they…” but she doesn’t have the courage to continue.

Undyne squats down to Alphys’ level. “Please Alphee. I’m fricking freaking out over here. I looked through the window up there and saw Aofil trying to stab themselves and you desperately dragging their arm away. I’m a panic here, Alphee. I’ve no idea what’s going on! How could this day turn on its heel like this?”

Alphys swallows hard. “A-Aofil, t-they n-need h-help.”

“Are they hurt? Is it their soul? I caught a glimpse of something that was red between their hand and chest, was it their soul?”

Alphys nods. “Y-yes, b-but it’s n-not their s-soul t-that’s h-hurt. It’s act-tually the op-pposite.” She coughs lightly. “A-Aof-fil need-ds-”

“Already tried it,” Aofil shakes their head without moving their eyes, “didn’t work.”

“B-but, n-now y-you know-w w-what it is, A-Aofil!” Alphys shouts back with tears flying from her eyes. “N-now y-you can g-get t-the help y-you n-need!”

“I thought you would help me, Alphys, but look where that got me.”

Undyne has to struggle to keep Alphys in her grasp. “It got you t-the t-truth! Y-you h-have t-to r-realize t-that it is-s! Y-you’ve h-heard it, n-now y-you h-have to ac-ccept it!”

Aofil’s eyes finally focus, and they flop their head to meet Alphys’ burning stare. “How do you-”

“Because I’ve done it before!” Alphys roars, cracking her voice and leaving her coughing and clutching her throat. She refuses Undyne’s help, and waddles over to Aofil while forcefully drying away her tears. “T-the tests went b-by quickly.” Alphys voice is coarse like gravel. It hurts her to speak, but she has to. “T-the r-reason it t-took s-so long is b-because I r-realized that y-you w-were s-standing ov-ver t-the same v-void I w-was.”

She coughs violently, further straining her voice. She throws her hand up to again stop Undyne from stepping in. “I,” Alphys’ groans against her voice. Had she been human she’d be coughing up blood. “I s-saw m-ys-self in y-you. T-the p-pain, t-the t-thoughts. H-how n-nothing was w-worth any l-longer. I w-wanted t-to r-run away. G-get aw-way f-from everyt-thing t-that h-hurt. T-the on-ne t-thing th-hat s-saved me. T-the one r-reason that I’m-m s-still h-here, is m-my f-friends. T-they w-were t-there f-for me, h-helped me.” 

“It h-hurts!” Alphys throws her arms out. “Ev-very s-single d-day it hurts! It’s b-because I h-have f-friends ar-round me t-that I c-can still f-function. D-don’t l-leave, A-Aofil. D-don’t m-make t-the m-mistake I alm-most did!”

She glances back to Undyne before taking a guilty inhale. “A-and if-f a h-human isn’t-t st-trong e-enough.” Alphys grabs a hold of her head, to keep it from falling apart. “H-how c-can I e-ever b-be s-strong en-nough?”

Undyne grits her teeth. “No! Alphys! You are strong enough!” She bolts over and swirls the yellow lizard around. Alphys’ tail punts Aofil’s feet, but they don’t notice it. “There are so much strength inside of you, Alphee!”

“B-but if A-Aofil c-can’t...”

Why? Why are they always putting the blame on Aofil? Why are they always looking to them for help? They’re no one special, they’re just a human. Why don’t the monsters understand?

Alphys and Undyne embrace each other. Undyne doing her best to keep Alphys’ sobs suppressed and quiet for Alphys’ sake. A long and deafening silence follows until Undyne finally manages to meet Aofil’s eyes. “Aof, what the hell is going on?”

Does she even deserve to know? After all she’s done? After putting more weight on Aofil’s shoulder without them asking for it? Does any of them deserve?

“Why is your arm like that? It looks like something from the royals.”

Toriel, Asgore, Asriel. So needy of Aofil. Ever since they first met, and even more since...

No, they can’t be doing that! Aofil’s not…

And just like that, it all clears for Aofil. They laugh. It’s so obvious. They are cursed, and it is their soul. It’s not because of some old prophecy though, or it being broken. No, their curse is worse.

Way worse.

Aofil sits up straight while staring at their arm. A loud creaking sound follows them up, but once they’re almost standing, it turns dead quiet. Not even a sound from Alphys, or Undyne.

“My arm,” Aofil grits their teeth, “I got this patch when I saved Asriel. My soul was broken, I died when Asriel and Chara came to my summer home. They almost killed me, my soul almost shattered, but my dad saved me. Because of that I’ve lived with a broken soul. When I saved Asriel, whatever soul was left in Flowey fused with me. I don’t know how Asriel was created, but he was, and a piece of him is now holding my soul together.”

Aofil runs their fingers through the patch of fur. “This is him.”

Undyne and Alphys are stunned beyond belief. They’re not even looking at Aofil.

“What the hell is going on here is another story though, Undyne. What’s been going on has been going on from the first second I met you, met any of you. It’s never stopped, even when I left you it kept going. Day in and day out, I was subjected to it without any input on my end.”

Aofil massages their forehead. “You all talk about new chapter this, new chapter that. How you’re gonna leave all the bad things about the Underground behind so that you can once again live on the Surface with us humans. You say that, but there’s one thing you’ll never let go of. One sin that will always crawl up your back, and it’s because of me that you can’t move past it.”

Aofil points to their eyes. “It’s this.”

They drag their hand through their hair. “It’s this.”

They tap their cheeks. “And this.”

And pat their chest. “And this!”

“It is all my curse. To never be me, to never be myself. No, because in your eyes, I’m not Aofil. I’m not me. I am Chara’s twin.”

No answer.

“And that’s my curse, being Chara’s twin. To never be seen as something else through your eyes. You’ve all told Asriel that I’m the adult Frisk, but that’s not true, I’m the adult Chara. Your Chara died in the Underground, your Chara was buried down there, but once you broke out of your prison you found another literally on your doorstep. How lucky! Now you can continue Chara’s legacy, don’t mind asking the damn vessel if they even want to.”

Aofil scoffs. “And that’s why I can’t be near any one of you, that’s why I can’t be around any monster. Because I’ll always be the other Chara, and never myself.”

Aofil takes a deep breath. “So please.” They turn around. “Toriel,” they address the stunned monster standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Asgore,” they address the monster to the left of Toriel. “Asriel,” they address the monster to the right of Toriel.

“When I leave through the front door, who’s back will you see? Aofil’s, or Chara’s?”

No answer.

Aofil throws their arm up towards the Dreemurrs. “Well there I have it then!” They make their way up the stairs. “Good luck with your new chapter. Neither Aofil or Chara wants to be a part of it.”

Aofil squeezes themselves through the gap between Toriel and Asriel. The static causes their hair and arm to stand straight up. They just have to fetch their phone and wallet from the bathroom and then they’ll be out of here. Fucking mistake, the entire ordeal. The metal door handle shocks Aofil’s hand, and they retract it without thinking.

“My child!”

Aofil tilts their head down while shaking it. “Too little, too late, Toriel!” They turn around. “You had y-”

Standing inches away from their face, and with a muzzle contorted into a furious snarl, Asriel grabs Aofil’s collar, and throws them against the wall.

“Asriel!” Asgore shouts, but to no effect.

Aofil sinks down on the ground, clutching the back of their head. There’s no blood, but their head hit the wall quite hard.

Asriel towers over them, fists clenched, and chest heaving up and down from his angry huffing. “You hypocrite! It was all fine to have me talk about my problems, but when it’s about you it’s all arms waving around in the air and leaving without as much as try to work it out! You did it once, Aofil! How did that work out for you? You’re just gonna leave everything behind because you’re too afraid to admit that you’ve been lying to yourself all these years?”

No, he’s wrong! He’s wrong. It is a curse. Aofil knows it! “It is a curse!”

“You said to me to forget all about Chara, but here you are, blaming everything on them! Chara’s not our escape goat, they’re yours! You fucking idiot!”

“Asriel, enough!” Asgore commands, shaking the entire house with his voice. He walks up to his son and puts his hands on Asriel’s shivering shoulders. “Go to your mother. I’ll handle this.”

Asriel rips away his burning gaze from Aofil with a frustrated grunt. Toriel embraces him warmly, softly running her hand on Asriel’s head.

With little effort Asgore forces Aofil’s focus to him. “Aofil,” he pauses to scratch his head, “how about I put on some tea?”

Aofil stands up without Asgore’s help. They don’t need it. They brush themselves off. “You do that for yourselves.”

Asgore solemnly nods. “I understand. It was nice seeing you again, Aofil. You’re always welcome back.”

All other evidence screams the opposite, but whatever, his waste of air. Aofil fetches their stuff and slams the front door behind them.

“Guest profile added for later visits!” informs the doorbell.

If there were anything bigger than gravel around Aofil would’ve thrown it.

They knew this was all a mistake. Now they have to walk away from it all.

Again!

“Next bus leaves in thirty minutes,” the ticket vendor smiles. “You might be the only one traveling on it. I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay here, human.”

Aofil takes the ticket handed to them, “Yeah, sure,” and heads to the nearest bench to sit down. The vacant parking lot is quiet, and Aofil welcomes the silence with open arms, and then some. They sink down in the bench and close their eyes. They need some time for themselves right now.

Need, but not given, as shortly after they’re joined by another human. Aofil peeks open one eye, only to find the last human in the world that they want to see right now. A human that has Aofil leaning their head back over the back rest of the bench and sighing deeply through their lips. “Is it even worth me asking why you’re here if you’re not even gonna answer me?”

Frisk clenches their legs with their hands.

“So I take it your headache is better now?”

Rows of teeth grit against each other.

Aofil turns their head away. “Guess not.”

“Not. Here.”

Aofil’s brow furrows immediately. They can’t help but stare perplexed into the distance. Frisk spoke to them. Why? Their curiosity spins their head back to Frisk. “What do you mean?”

“Please! Just.”

Frisk clutches their head, shaking it back and forth. Their breathing becomes strained and pained. Frisk nods violently towards the bathrooms on the other side of the parking lot. They try and stand up, but their legs won’t listen.

“Help.”

Aofil puts their arm under Frisk’s shoulder. “Do you want me to call Toriel?”

“No!”

Aofil recoils back from the intense plead. What’s going on?

“Bathroom.”

“Sure, I’ll get you there.”

“The code is five three six two,” the ticket vendor shouts. “We had to add a code after humans complained about monsters using it as an attraction rather than an utility.”

The keypad accepts the code, and lets Aofil along with a grunting Frisk into a pristine bathroom with stalls and faucets with mirrors in rows on opposite walls. It’s empty and devoid of anyone else. Finally, some luck.

Aofil opens a stall door for Frisk, but they slide off and braces themselves on a porcelain sink instead. They stare at themselves in the mirror.

“What’s happening, Frisk?” Aofil asks, a bit uncomfortable with the entire ordeal, to say the least. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Frisk puts a hand up towards Aofil, but in doing so they almost lose balance. They return their hand to the sink as quickly as they removed it.

Again they stare at their reflection, but strangely, their breathing calms. It’s not what Aofil expected, but it’s a good sign. Right?

Frisk lifts one hand and looks at it. Inspects it, almost as it was a piece of jewelry. They gently flex it before removing the other and doing the same. They cock their head, and then nod to themselves. “Yes, I promised. I know.”

For a third time Frisk catches themselves in the mirror, but they act like it was the first time. A smile forms on their lips. “It’s been a while...”

Aofil takes a step back. The fuck is going on here!

Frisk turns their head around. "It's me."

Aofil crashes into the stall door behind them. The door swings back and smashes against the tile wall with a loud bang. Aofil hits their tailbone on the back rest of the toilet, but the pain doesn’t reach their head. It’s too occupied by the human leaning against the stall door on its shoulder smiling and eyeing Aofil.

Crimson blossoming behind the eyelids.

“Your sibling.”


	88. Siblings at heart

"Frisk? What's happening?"

They cock their head and wrinkle their nose at the question. "Frisk? No." They look down, "I mean, yes," and run their hand over their body. "Frisk is not here at the moment though."

Aofil remains not convinced, and on the bare edge of grabbing the nearest loose object.

A deep sigh echoes throughout the stalls. "Do I really have to convince you, Aofil?"

How do you even begin to answer such a question? How do you convince someone that their long dead sibling is back? And possessing someone else?

"Frisk, knock this shit off, alright?" Aofil regains some form of composure. It's not much, but at least they're not slipping off the toilet seat. "If you want to talk, that's fine. Just don't do this, it's fucked up. I’m really goddamn serious right now."

What the ever loving hell is going on?

The smaller human blows through their lips, “Okay, let’s see,” and furrows their brow in deep thought. “Our parents were horrible towards us. Couldn’t even muster up a ‘I love you’ to save their life. We finally had enough, and decided to climb Mt. Ebott to learn magic from the monsters down in the Underground.”

There’s a pause. A long and silent pause, as the striped shirt wearing human’s face goes through a wide array of emotions. Back and forth, back and forth. Conflicting with each other, melding with another. They rub their eyes tiredly, and drag their hand down to their mouth. “We...” they hesitate. “I…fell down. You had second thoughts, Aofil. Remember?”

“All of this I’ve told you, Frisk,” Aofil retorts. “All of this you could’ve figured out.”

“Okay? So what can I tell you to convince you? Ask me something you haven’t told Frisk. Something before we decided to try and find the Underground.”

Aofil shrugs. “I don’t know? I don’t remember anything from that time of my life. Not what was actually real, that is.”

A grunt and a hand thrown up above the smaller human’s head while their eyes roll so hard they almost burrow into the skull summons an angry leer from Aofil. Aofil’s not the one impersonating a dead twin, at the moment, so who is Frisk to talk? Are they just stalling for time so that Aofil won’t make it to the bus? Are they hoping that Aofil might just suddenly bang their head against the wall and forgive everything?

Something’s real fishy here, and Aofil’s not in the mood for jokes. They stand up and push Frisk away. “Good luck with the rest of your life, Frisk.”

“No!” Frisk grabs Aofil’s arm. “Wait! Just… just one more! I promise that you’ll see me as Chara!”

Aofil jerks back their arm. “Do you have any idea how strange that sounds?”

“Imagine how strange it is for me to say it! One more thing, I promise.” Frisk clutches their head. “It’s the only way, Frisk. I told you it would be difficult!”

“Great performance.” Aofil reaches for the door handle. “Sell tickets next time. You’ll make a killing.”

The human again scrambles for Aofil’s arm, and tugs at it. “I’ll tell you what our curse is, Aofil!”

“Ha!” Aofil spins around with their eyes wide and glued towards the brat. “I already know what my curse is. It’s being your twin,” Aofil raises their fingers as quotation marks, “Chara.”

The startled human takes a step back. “W-what?”

Aofil isn’t buying it. “Tickets, Frisk! Backstage pass can be being put on a pedestal by the monsters. At least then those who gets it will have asked for it.”

“IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ON THE PHONE! HELLO FRISK, WHAT IS YOUR CONUNDRUM THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, MIGHT HELP YOU WITH!”

From behind the striped back a phone is brought forth. The display has an icon of Papyrus posing heroically above the red ‘Disconnect Call’ button. Speakers are enabled, but Aofil could’ve already guessed that.

After staring at the phone for a couple of silent seconds Frisk brings it up to their mouth. “You know what? Fuck you, Papyrus!”

Aofil’s face turns into stone. The human in front of them shows that the microphone wasn’t muted, knocking any doubts away with a deafening silence. The sound of the call disconnecting doesn’t mask the sound of Aofil’s jaw hitting the floor. With great effort they manage to regain some control of their eyes and tongue. “You’re not Frisk.”

Chara nods, “I’m Chara, your twin. Pretty sure I’ve stirred up quite the scene for Frisk to handle afterwards, but I promised them I’d talk to you, so,” and shrugs with their arms crossed. “If anything this is on you, Aofil.”

“Chara?”

“Yes, my sibling? On second thought, can I just call you Aofil instead, it sounds weird saying ‘sibling’.”

“How?” Aofil needs to lean on a nearby sink. “How are you here? You’re dead.”

“If you could refrain from rubbing it in, please.”

Their brow sink down, like a stone in water. “You killed me.”

Chara breathes in through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry?”

“I need...” Aofil looks around, like they’ve forgot where they are. “I need to sit down.”

Chara motions for a toilet. Aofil nods and heads over to it and sits down with their elbows resting on their legs, and their chin resting on their bundled fists. They sit still and silent for well over a minute before finally blinking and tilting their head towards Chara. “How?”

Chara shrugs. “How what? Gotta be specific.”

Aofil motions up and down Frisk’s body with their hand. Chara looks down, and nods.

“So, I died,” they begin, hesitantly. “You already know how so I’d rather not tell it again, if that’s fine to you. Then Frisk came along,” Chara points towards Frisk’s head, “and I found myself, how to say it, conscious? I don’t remember how I felt while being dead, I just know that I wasn’t aware of it. I suddenly became aware, like throwing an entire ocean worth of ice water over my head. I could think, but it was very quiet, even for me. Another voice was ringing in my, well Frisk’s, head though. Frisk’s voice, their thoughts. I was at the helm, but I wasn’t driving. I was just kinda, there, you know?”

Aofil doesn’t.

“I could hear what they heard, I felt myself saying what they said, and I felt every step and breath they took, but I couldn’t influence them. Like a statue in the corner or something, I don’t know.” Chara throws Frisk’s arms in the air. “All I know for certain is that we were connected. Our souls, we’re merged together.”

Aofil glances down at their own chest.

“Exactly how, I haven’t the foggiest. They have looked at our soul together, spent entire nights trying to twist it around, to find where Frisk ends, and where I begin, but no luck. There’s been nights when Frisk have stayed up until morning just, poking. They tried to find a spot where it didn’t hurt for them, but again, no luck. I wish I could help, but I’m not even backseat driving. I’m like, part of the fuel or something. In the trunk just happy to be there. Kinda...”

Chara sighs through Frisk’s lips. “Anyway, during Frisk’s time in the Underground, I could feel them using me, using my soul. First it was just to not die, but then, we felt the rush of determination.”

They clench Frisk’s fist. “Monster dust running through our fingers, seeing them beg for mercy that never came. My soul reacted, which prompted Frisk’s soul to react, which prompted mine to react, and it just kept going until… We don’t remember who’s soul reacted first, but it doesn’t really matter, since our actions were the same. It continued, we couldn’t stop it. We didn’t want to stop it.”

Frisk’s hand opens up. “Until I’d completely forgotten that I used to be the hope of the Underground. Everything I remembered about the Underground I used to help Frisk find more monsters to kill. Find more monster that would gives us that rush! The monsters could hide, but only briefly. I knew the entire place like the back of my hand, and I used that hand to point Frisk where to go. With every kill it became easier to justify the next, and so much harder to resist the urge. Why should we stop when it felt this good? With every kill I felt more alive too. More determination meant that I could feel more, think more, act more. Frisk and I, we became one. We couldn’t differentiate each other. It was us against the world, and the world was in our way. Asriel wasn’t necessary anymore, Frisk didn’t know who he was, and I just saw him as in our way. I remember him always popping up and pestering us at New Home. He said that he couldn’t feel anything being Flowey, but he sure became mighty scared when he realized he was not necessary any longer.”

Frisk’s eyes turn distant. “Is it...” Chara shakes themselves back, “Is it alright if I skip what happened next? It’s kinda,” and smacks Frisk’s lips while stretching their borrowed cheeks into an uncomfortable smile, “really really horrible to remember. Though, to be fair, it’s not as horrible as what came after.”

Chara turns to the door, as if expecting someone to show up. “A whole mountain of pain. A wall we ran into, and bounced off constantly. We never made it past it. Again, I don’t remember who took the initiative, but sometime after reset number uncountable plus five, we stopped. Dropped the knife, and fell down on our knees. We were tired, drained. No more reserves left. So, we cried. Not that Sans believed us, but still, we cried. Oddly enough, it was at that point I felt the most,” Chara clutches Frisk’s fist over their chest, “alive. Not in a good way though. I realized that this path was finished, that our choices led us to a dead end. Literal dead end, both for Frisk and I, and for the monsters I once was planned to rule.”

The door remains unopened, and Chara turns back to Aofil. “And suddenly, I was in the way. I was the one holding back progress. I didn’t want to throw away everything we did. I was still high off the determination, Frisk’s determination. It wasn’t until they reset, all the way back to the beginning, that I realized what I’d done. I tried to run away, get away from Frisk, but I was stuck. They went through the Underground, without killing, without ever triggering the start of the circle. I mean, they sure did beat up some of the monsters, but never killed any.”

“It wasn’t until after Asriel, after him renouncing me, and after the Barrier broke, and we stood at the cliff’s edge overlooking the same view Asriel and I did when we were fused.” Chara chokes on their words. “It was only then Frisk put their hand over their chest, and forgave me.”

They scoff away the tears. “And from that day forward, I’ve kinda been in the background. Doing all I can to help. It’s barely anything, but I like to believe that some of the things Frisk have done has been because of me. It’s a very greedy view of it all, but I so much want to believe it’s true. It isn’t, but I want it to be.”

Chara drags Frisk’s hands over their face. “I see that you’re confused, Aofil. Don’t worry, So am I. The best guess I have of this whole debacle is this, Frisk and me fused together, but that’s only true for our souls. It’s just magic, not science, if that’s a bit easier for you to understand, Aofil. Basically it means that it’s either Frisk, or me, present. Thing is though, I’m not supposed to be present. Like earlier today, when Frisk almost unwillingly spoke to you.”

“Is that what happened with their headache?”

Chara puts up a pair of citation signs with Frisk’s fingers. “Headache. Yeah, that was me. It’s not that I want to hurt Frisk.” Chara scoffs. “Why would I hurt the only thing keeping me maybe not really alive? No, pretty sure it’s your soul and mine reacting. It is the same one, after all. We’re twins, we share the same soul. I’ve been hazarding a guess that normally it’s not a problem with twins.”

Aofil shakes their head tiredly. “Normally...”

Chara tilts Frisk’s hand towards Aofil. “Exactly, there hasn’t been anything normal with us, ever.”

“It was a bit normal after-”

Chara doesn’t need to hear more. “Pour salt in it, why don’t you, Aofil?”

They lower their head. “Sorry.”

“No it’s,” Chara blows Frisk’s lips, “it’s fine, Aofil. I’ve had some time to accept it.” They pat Frisk’s chest. “Had some help with it too. Frisk has helped me feel alive. Despite, well, me not being.”

Chara rocks back and forth on Frisk’s heels. “And seeing Asriel alive, but not me. It’s,” Frisk’s neck twitches, “it’s a bit strange, to say the least. We were fused together, we died together, but he gets to live again, and not me. I’m just a parasite, not wanting to let go. I can’t let go. I’m possessing Frisk, I’m not alive myself. I’m on life support, literally. I’m being supported by Frisk, and I am supporting them myself. They have it a bit better though, not gonna lie. I’m stuck as a voice inside their head, most of the time less than that. It’s only when my alive twin is near that I panic and hurt the one that’s keeping me alive. Not by anyone of ours choosing, but it is what it is, right? Why should I complain when I already had everything taken away from me? I have a second chance now, right? It’s not really a full chance, but it’s something, right?”

Chara exhales and drags Frisk’s hands over their face, “I’m sorry, it’s just...” and catch a glimpse of their reflection.

It shatters but a moment after.

Chara grunts and clutches Frisk’s twitching hand. “Sorry, Frisk, didn’t mean to do it,” they scoff. “Guess I’m not used to being the one that all the emotion floods into.”

Chara grits Frisk’s teeth through the pain. “Asriel...he’s a bit different now than before, isn’t he? Don’t know why I’m asking you about it, Aofil. Maybe if you had followed me it might’ve been different.”

Chara stares at Aofil, their twin. It doesn’t feel like it though, not in the slightest.

“You’re a bit different now than before too, Aofil, aren’t you? You don’t remember how we felt before I fell. You don’t know me, you’ve only been told about me. Everything I thought was you is gone. You’re not my twin, not really. We both died when I fell.”

Chara uses Frisk’s sweater to dry Frisk’s eyes, but Chara’s tears. “Everyone gets a second chance, a real second chance, another shot at life. Frisk can reset. Asriel came back with the help of you and Frisk, and you, Aofil, you got to live your life without me. Second chances, except me…”

The sweater isn’t enough to soak up the watery eyes. “Because it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I planned for us two to find the Underground. I planned for Asriel and me to fuse.” The tears crash against the broken glass as Chara again throws Frisk’s fist against the mirror. “I did it all for the ones I loved! Why don’t I deserve a second go? Why isn’t that enough? I gave hope to the Underground!”

Heavy breathing bounces across the tiled walls and floor. “Things is though.” Chara rinses off Frisk’s hand under the faucet. The white sink turns crimson underneath the shard ridden hand. “I’ve changed too. I know that it was my fault. I know what I did. I would’ve done it again if I had the choice.” A tired scoff is interrupted by a pained inhale as Chara picks out the shards they can from Frisk’s hand. “I’d make it so you would follow me though, Aofil, of course. We’d sit on each of dad’s shoulders, with Asriel around his neck. We’d have fun poking at Asriel’s muzzle, watching him try and not to tear up. We’d learn about our curse, about magic, together. Would’ve been fun.”

Chara fetches some paper from a nearby dispenser and slowly pats the knuckles on Frisk’s injured hand. “I also know that I have a second chance. I get to see my family everyday. Granted, through the eyes and mind of the other sex than I was born into, but hey, could be worse. I could be dead...for an example. It’s not that big of a deal any longer, the whole gender thing, since I’ve technically been the other sex now for the majority of my life, existence, whatever. Frisk sometimes tries and ask me how I would react to a situation.” Chara chuckles. “I’d answer, if I could. Don’t think I’ve yet to have a different opinion, because again, I’ve been like Frisk enough to have their mindset.”

Chara flashes a smile. “Like I said, I’ve changed too.” They take quick gasp of air to realign themselves. “Anyway, you should’ve seen how mom and dad-”

Chara realizes as they catch a glimpse of Frisk in the cracked glass. “Sorry, Toriel and Asgore. You should’ve seen how they were back then. They stopped attending the nose nuzzle championship because otherwise it wouldn’t be a competition. At least, that’s what they told Asriel and me.”

“How...” Chara shuffles uncomfortably with Frisk’s hand before putting them underneath Frisk’s armpits. “How were they, by the way, after I left?”

Who do they mean? “Our parents?” Aofil asks.

Chara nods hastily. “Yeah.”

“You don’t remember when we talked to them?”

“No?” Chara scratches Frisk’s lobe. “When would’ve I done that?”

“When I fell?” Chara has to remember, right? A strange feeling bubbles inside Aofil. “You told me what happened. After Frisk’s reset? I fell down the hole and almost died. You were there along with mom and dad. We talked. Talked about us, about being twins, and about how you lived with the Dreemurrs.”

Chara tilts Frisk’s head up. “Oh yeah…um...no. That wasn’t me.”

“Okay?” Aofil can’t really say anything else. “Then who was it?”

“Your interpretation of me perhaps? I don’t know.”

“But you told me that you lived with Toriel and Asgore! How could I have known that?”

“Maybe from before the-” Frisk’s body freezes up. “Shit, sorry,” Chara whispers, almost inaudible to Aofil.

Aofil doesn’t like what Chara’s implying, not one bit. “What do you mean by before, Chara?” They stand up very carefully. “Don’t tell me it is what I think it is.”

Chara tries to play it off, “Depends on what you mean?” but they quickly realize that it isn’t working. They fucked up.

“Chara,” Aofil’s head starts spinning. They feel lightheaded, nauseous. “Chara! What do you mean by before?”

Chara sighs and leans back on a sink with Frisk’s arms crossed over their chest. “You know the phrase third time’s the charm?”

No…

“Turns out it’s literal when it comes to the Surface.”


	89. Before the beginning

“How’re you feeling, Aofil?”

Not the best. Far from it, to be honest. Their head is thumping, like it’s being pushed out from inwards. They clutch their head.

“That bad?” Chara rubs Frisk’s forehead. “Hm, this wasn’t supposed to happen. No problem though!” they exclaim in a cheer that’s vastly more afraid than it is happy. “I’ll just have to,” Chara sighs deeply, “tell you all about what happened before so that you don’t descent into those memories and go after us all. Oh well...”

Chara checks their twin to see if it’s bad. They instantly conclude that it is, and again rubs Frisk’s forehead tiredly while sighing through Frisk’s lips. “Aofil, try and think about everything leading up to, but not including when you met the monsters. Does it help?”

Maybe? Aofil’s not sure. Ebott looks way different in their mind. It makes them feel a bit angry. “I don’t know. It’s like a pressure building up inside my brain.”

“How bad?”

“Like a headache is forming.”

“Good, so perhaps it’s not too bad. Just try and keep focus on things before you met the monsters. I’ll just talk about what happened and you can stop me if you feel better? Otherwise we might-” Chara stops mid sentence. ”I know, Frisk,” they whisper to themselves, “but it’s gonna be worse if I don’t. Yes, I know what happened, but it’ll be worse if they slip back. It’s better if I ease them into it. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best choice for us now.”

Chara stands still for a couple of second, before throwing Frisk’s arm out. “Of course it’ll be worse! I can feel that. I don’t want them to go through it more than they have to. We’re supposed to convince them, remember?”

Chara clutches Frisk’s fist. “To be honest, you’d be much better at this than me. No… Well, maybe I’ll have more control now that I’ve talked to them proper, who knows? Oh please, can you think a bit about yourself? You know full well why you’re nice to people, Frisk. You can knock it off with me!”

With a deep sigh Chara pinches the bridge of Frisk’s nose. “I’m...I’m sorry Frisk. I’m not used to this, not used to the emotions. Just one of the million reasons why I shouldn’t be in control here. Besides the biggest reason that it’s been years since I talked with anyone. I’ll try and give Aofil the short version, and if they want to longer one you two can talk it out more? Like I said, maybe I’ll be a bit calmer now that I’ve met them? Maybe you two can actually speak with each other? Come on now, you literally hand waved and gestured everything that happened in the Underground to Aofil. They know how to ask the right questions. I mean, it’s you, right? Shouldn’t be a problem. You’ve done things far more difficult, Frisk.”

A small smirk grows on Frisk’s lips. “Well, tell me the last time whatever any of us had planned panned out the way we wanted it do be? How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t even know why I’m arguing with you at the moment,” but it fades quickly. “Sometimes it panned out for the better, right? Plenty of times! Yes, I know that you know that I’m lying, but I’m not gonna say otherwise, now am I? Of course not! You know me better than that.”

Chara glances over to check on Aofil. Aofil nods carefully, and a bit confused. Chara moves over to the broken mirror. “Yes, and I know you better than that. Just listen, Frisk, you’re not in control any longer. I warned you that this was gonna happen, but you didn’t listen. I’m gonna talk to Aofil about the first reset, and then I’m gonna give you your body back. I’m swimming in your emotions at the moment, and no way am I strong enough for any of them. That is what is going to happen now. You know why? Because this is what happens when you surrender your soul, Frisk. You’re no longer the one making decisions. I’m pulling away the wool from Aofil, and that’s final.”

A small tear forms in Frisk’s eye. “Besides, no way in hell am I going to impersonate you!” Chara glances over to Aofil. “Like I would ever think of stooping so low. For what it is worth, Frisk, I’m sorry for doing this. I’m also gonna apologize for another thing while I still have the chance...”

Chara walks over to another mirror. Frisk’s hands clutch the sink, and Chara has to muster up courage to look at the reflection. They stare deeply into the eyes of the reflection. “Sorry for being here. Sorry for being a leech on your soul. I want to thank you for letting me be here, but I know I shouldn’t. I just,” Chara can’t stand seeing Frisk’s face through Frisk’s eyes, and they avert them, “I just feel like I had to say it out loud. Had to get it out of my system. We’ll get through this now, I promise.”

They sigh again, “Why do still bother to try and lie to you again?” and scoff. “I promise I’ll try and do this as quickly as possible though. That as much I can be truthful about.”

Chara leans over the sink. Eyes and hands clutching with titan like grip. Chara’s breathing turns unstable, and not long after they start sobbing. Heavy gasps follow, but not for very long. Chara tilts Frisk’s head up, and heaves a sigh to banish the emotions. “Again, I am not used to emotions. Not that it will be a problem for long now.”

Chara wipes away the tears with Frisk’s sweater. “Yeah, I know. I’ll stop bringing attention to it from now on. I’ll keep focus.”

With a cleansing splash of cold water Chara turns to Aofil. “Sorry to keep you waiting. So-”

“Wait!” Aofil interrupts, removing one hand from their head. “What was that? Were you talking to Frisk?”

Chara nods. “Yes, I was.”

“But-”

“Aofil,” Chara lowers Frisk’s brow into a serious furrow, “please just be quiet. Frisk’s soul is used to being in control, they are used to being in control. I am not. Every second spent in control my soul is in a state of panic, and that’s an understatement. I know it might seem like I’ve been on top of things here, but the only reason for that is Frisk. We’ve flipped the house upside down to do this, and the less you talk, the less things are gonna fall from the floor and crash against the ceiling. I.e, me. The less I have to focus on that the more I can explain to you.”

“I’m just...”

“Confused? Yeah, I know, and I sympathize, but,” Chara drags Frisk’s hands over their eyes, “I really don’t know how to put this gently, Aofil. Just, shut up. Okay? I know you want answers, I know I’m supposed to convince you to stay, but I’m stretched thin as it is. You and me talking are putting such a strain on Frisk and me that you wouldn’t believe. I’ve already smashed one of Frisk’s hands to try and keep control.”

Aofil’s too familiar with that.

Frisk’s neck twitches violently. “Yes, Frisk, I lied! No, don’t push yourself even further, you might hurt yourself. I’m saying that for you first, and me second. Just be quiet yourself so that I can focus on explaining to Aofil.”

“So,” Chara wipes away some hair from Frisk’s face, “Frisk saved the monsters, Asriel broke the Barrier, you know it all, Aofil, but they didn't meet you at first. You were the second try. We're on the third try now, and it really seems like it is the charm now.”

Aofil’s not sure if they would agree completely on that one.

“Anyway, the first try. Frisk didn't have any clue what to do, nor did any of the monsters. At first, it seemed to be going just fine, but as we later found out, it was because the shock hadn't faded. When it did." Chara blows Frisk's lips. "Ho boy..."

They have to recollect themselves for a bit before continuing. “If you thought the Above Lab incident was bad. Hell, even the riot, then unfortunately I have some bad news.”

Aofil rubs their skull, they feel some stuff start to jumble. Vague thoughts deep inside their mind.

“It was bad, really bad. Like, uproar and riot times ten, if not more, bad. War, war happened.”

It sounds...true?

“We were to slow to integrate, too passive with our resurfacing. More focus was spent on trying to look good for the humans rather than acting good towards the humans. It’s easy to see with the benefit of hindsight, or in this case, a couple of resets, but at the time. At the time it sounded like the best idea to be careful. Can never be too careful, right? Turns out that yes, yes you can be too careful. As we’ve seen from the second and third try, the more the monsters threw their arms out, announcing loudly that they were back, the better things turned out. Above Lab not withstanding.”

“Pun not intended,” Chara adds as they see Aofil clutching their fists. “Being too careful stirred up distrust, fear. Smiles are good and all, but if you don’t know the person behind you kinda revert to seeing the exposed teeth as a threat rather than a friendly gesture. To top it all of, the humans found out about the fallen children before any of the monsters confessed about them. This caused some tensions.”

With a careful bite on Frisk’s tongue Chara exhales to try and calm themselves. “In the same way the war before the Barrier caused some tensions. Since we’d been so passive about ourselves and our relations with the humans, there was no goodwill to fall back on, not like how it was this time around. There were no human friends for the monsters that could take a step back and think. There was no human pillar the monsters could lean on. No adult human, that is. Frisk was there, but it only made things worse since they were a child.”

Chara has to clear Frisk’s throat as their words get stuck. “Frisk was taken away from Toriel and Asgore almost immediately. Placed in the,” Chara lifts Frisk’s hands up, “care,” and bends Frisk’s fingers into quotation marks before shrugging, “of the government. Care is the last words I’d use to describe what went down. Constant questioning, constant prodding of information. All sorts of tests, both medical and psychological, to find out something that they could use to pin at the monsters.”

With a sigh Chara gazes into the distance. “Didn’t help much when Sans kidnapped Frisk, even less so when Frisk actually asked Sans to. It prompted immediate action to investigate the Underground.” They shake Frisk’s head tiredly and almost mumbles the last words. “Didn’t take long for them to find the fallen humans.”

The pounding in Aofil’s head calms down, but it’s not to their relief.

“And then the trial happened. It happened so quick. What did the monsters have as a defense? That Asriel and I attacked a village and that the village defended itself? What was even worse than the monsters not having a defense, was the humans having an ace up their sleeve. The only living relative of the first human to die in the Underground.”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open, and Chara’s soft nod confirms their suspicions. Two times… two times they’ve been the same tool.

“But,” Aofil shakes their head, “I didn’t remember you the second time.”

“Your soul did the first time, or at least, that’s what I, sorry, Frisk, could gather. The second time things were different enough that it didn’t apply. You’re familiar with this, Aofil. The memories.”

Aofil raises their eyebrows. “Not because of my own choosing.”

Chara narrows Frisk’s eyes. “You could’ve just left, you know?”

“And look where that got me?” Aofil throws their arms out. “In a bathroom slash sightseeing tour for monsters talking to my dead twin about actions I did that I don’t remember but apparently are important enough to shatter my world view once again!”

Their arms retract back in towards their head as Aofil presses their palms against their skull. “I’m so sick of all of this.”

“Well, I have to continue, Aofil, for your sake.”

Aofil scoffs loudly.

“Good thing that you stopped me though, might be a sign that this is working.”

A hard glare is shoot towards Chara.

“It’s either that, or you descending back into the memories,” Chara defends. “You know I’m speaking the truth. You feel it deep inside you, in your soul.”

Aofil feels it, but it doesn’t mean they’re happy about it. They retract their glare, and Chara nods.

“Don’t think I’m getting any joy out of this, because I don’t. Frisk is struggling not to collapse in tears at the moment, and by extension, me. Whatever the case was that you remembered me, you recalled what happened at our summer home, and in enough detail to worry both Asgore and Toriel, not to mention the human jury. You knew almost more than the monsters did. After that, it was all downhill, more downhill.”

Chara moves Frisk’s arm diagonally down while whistling a descending tone. “Asgore trying to negotiate, Toriel suggesting they just move back to the Underground to work things out, Alphys buckling almost instantly. Just a straight line down until.”

Frisk’s hand opens up quickly as Chara smacks Frisk’s lips. “Poof. No hope remaining. No trust for the humans, no trust from the human, no trust from anyone. Just chaos. Some monsters turned on Asgore, unhappy with his leadership. They were promised to return to the Surface now that the Barrier was broken, but all that happened was that another Barrier was raised. This one was more prominent, believe it or not. Wanna guess why?”

Aofil feels the answer deep inside.

“Because,” Chara points back and forth between them and Aofil, “this one was made out of humans. Angry humans, scared humans. Each one more powerful than the entire monster kingdom combined, but none of them knew that. They only saw the scary magic, and the deaths of the kids. Unfortunately the chants of a thousand protesters was too loud for the lone rational voice to be heard. I say rational, but that would only had been the case if either one of the monsters had played their cards right and actually talked rationally themselves instead of trying to subdue the differences between monsters and humans.”

“And on the front line of the militia was none other than you,” Chara opens up Frisk’s hand and presents Aofil to themselves, “Aofil. Your soul was probably pumping you full of determination with all the magic from the monsters, so there was no stopping you, or the humans around you. I remember Undyne trying to subdue you when you went for either Asgore or Toriel. She was swarmed a second later, and you...”

Chara exhales deeply. “You didn’t have time, because Frisk reset in the last second. Seeing a human go for the kill one second, and then realize that they had to battle Asriel again. Frisk almost gave up there, right on the spot. One more chance though. They convinced themselves to give it one more try. I will never understand how Frisk found strength for that. They wiped their tears and headed up to face the Hypergod for the second time. They won again, had to see Ariel beg them to let him win, again. See him ask Frisk to leave forever, again. Saying the things he did about me…again. Then, when they exited the cave, guess who shows up?”

Chara turns Frisk’s head to Aofil. “Imagine their fear when the first human they saw, was you. Were you here to finish the job? Did you remember anything? I don’t know if you hitting your head knocked some memories away, but Frisk was so relieved you didn’t remember anything. Sans was a bit suspicious as well, but he couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly. Luckily you as a friend was enough of a difference to have Asgore and Toriel remember that they had to be more open, but not exactly why they had to. Lucky balance, I guess. Your shift in team also helped with their memories of the whole ordeal.”

With a pair of lamenting eyes, and a tired tilt of Frisk’s head, Chara sees Aofil press harder and harder against their skull. “But I guess we’re not out of the woods yet with that whole debacle. You feeling any better, Aofil?”

“No.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s getting worse.”

“I don’t know?”

Chara looks around, despite being well aware that the bathroom’s empty besides them and Aofil. Just to extra sure. “Sorry if this might hurt, Aofil, but I have to ask. After you met the monsters, what happened?”

“They...” Aofil stares into a distance. Their head provides too many answers, and none of them feels correct. None of them feel wrong though, but it’s all in pieces. A thought from one direction, but two from another, but three from the first one, but five from another! It’s all a jumble! Nothing makes sense! They’re in their own house, reading about how the monsters have been sighted, but not confirmed.

The monsters are in their living room though. Toriel and Asgore have just come back from meeting the Mayor. They’re not there though, Aofil has never seen the monsters.

Monsters? Like what that list talked about? What was it? Ten signs a monster is here and in your shower? No, that can’t be right.

Or can it?

No, it sounds just as weird as monsters existing.

But they do, Aofil just met some. They just spent two entire days with a whole gang of them!

“Aofil!” Chara claps Frisk’s hands as hard as they can. “Aofil!” they repeat even louder.

Aofil blinks, and the white tiles around them come back into focus. Their head is spinning though, like a centrifuge. Good thing they’re sitting on a toilet. Right now they really-

Chara winces back from seeing Aofil twist around so quick and violently to shove their head inside the toilet bowl. Their even more violent hurling has them covering Frisk’s ear.

Neither one of them wants to hear this.

After a solid minute or ten of constant spewing Aofil slides down onto the bathroom floor exhausted, with barely anything left in them to move around. They fumble the stall wall for some paper, and wipe their mouth with the last energy left.

“Water...” they beg silently.

“Is it black?”

“Water!” Aofil coughs from the strain it takes on their voice.

Chara fetches a plastic cup from a nearby dispenser and fills it up before handing it to Aofil. “Shit, this really wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“When will it stop?” Aofil drinks greedily. “Just...everything.”

Chara’s sinking facial expression worries Aofil. Didn’t they just beg for it to end? “Sorry, Aofil, but you can’t be like this.”

If Aofil had any strength left they’d thrown the water right back into Frisk’s face. They don’t need to be reminded of the blatantly obvious. Please and very much thank you.

“And I don’t want Frisk to reset. Don’t even know if they can. Frisk doesn’t even know.” Chara looks at Aofil with eyes that scream for forgiveness. “I have an idea though, but...”

Oh here we go.

“We need to make your head and soul share the same memories, Aofil. I don’t think we can pull an Asriel on you though. Doesn’t work with me, so that’s clearly evident. The only other way I, or Frisk, know of, is-”

“How about I just leave?” Aofil blurts out.

Frisk’s ears perk, and Chara narrows Frisk’s eyes. “What?”

Aofil throws up their arm, but it comes crashing back down almost instantly. “How about I just get out of here and never think about monsters again? The memories trigger when they become somewhat relevant, so I’ll just get away from it all.”

Chara’s not sure if Aofil’s joking. “Like how you did after you brought back Asriel?”

Aofil tries to summon enough strength to lift their finger, but it fails. They can only tilt their head in the brief period they’re not gasping for air. “Fuck you...”

“That’s your old memory talking.”

No, it’s not!

Or is it?

Aofil crawls in a panic up to the bowl again, and just barely manages to get their mouth over the porcelain edge with the help of Chara. Only a handful of hurls happen, but it’s a handful way too much.

“You think you can move away from anyone talking to you ever again, Aofil?”

God.

Fucking.

Dammit.

Gently, Chara eases Aofil back down onto the tiles. “Listen, I do have an idea. The discrepancy is between your soul and mind, so we have to close it. The simplest way is to transfer the memories into your mind.”

Aofil’s already shaking their head, but Chara’s not gonna stop. If there was another way they would, but...

“We’ll have to get you a memory box.”


	90. One side of the coin

"When I say we," Chara flusters, "I actually mean Frisk and you, Aofil. I've been," they look down and run Frisk's hands over the striped clothing, "keeping their body away from them for far too long now. Pretty sure they’re eager to get it back."

Chara makes their way around to another stall. From the gap between the wooden wall and the tiled floor Aofil sees Chara go down on Frisk's knees just in front of the toilet. They tilt Frisk's head down underneath the gap. "Could you come over here, Aofil? I don't know how bad Frisk is gonna feel when they return, so if you could keep an eye on them while we switch places, please."

"I haven't even agreed to the whole memory box thing, you know?"

Chara shrugs. "It was Frisk's idea to give me a shot and talk to you, but if it doesn't work, then I'd rather they have their body back as quickly as possible. You and Frisk can argue about the memory box, I’m not needed for that. I know you’re not in the best and most generous mood right now, Aofil, but Frisk doesn’t have to hurt, right? They’re still just a kid. Like me, I guess..."

Rub that onion in, why don’t you, Chara? But they’re right, if they’re speaking the truth, that is. Aofil’s not feeling sick thinking about it, so either their stomach is completely empty to the point of death, or Chara is telling the truth.

The slow yet steady pulsating aching coming in from everywhere inside Aofil’s body is evidence enough that they’re alive, so guess it’s option two. With a heavy grunt Aofil reaches for the toilet lid and puts it down. It helps them to stand up, and they don’t have to look at their innards floating gently inside the bowl, which is always a plus.

Aofil’s vision blurs a bit when they stand up, but blood soon reaches up to their head, and their vision comes back. They flush the toilet while wiping their mouth. The water Chara fetched didn’t help as much as Aofil wanted to, and they rinse out their mouth after washing their hands. In the mirror above the sink they meet a pale face with eyelids hanging heavy over a pair of tired eyes.

“You,” Aofil sees Chara turning Frisk’s head around in the reflection, “you coming?” Chara asks during this awkward angle between them and Aofil.

Aofil meets Frisk’s eyes in the mirror, “Yeah,” and walks over to the hunched over human. “I’m here. Go ahead.”

“We’ve already done something that shouldn’t be done, with me taking over, so I haven’t the foggiest what will happen when Frisk comes back. Just be ready in case Frisk’s body reacts violently, alright?”

Aofil nods.

Chara nods as well, and turns Frisk’s head back over the porcelain bowl. They collect a careful breath, “Alright. It was nice talking to you, Aofil,” and scoff lightly, “despite everything. Too bad we didn’t have time to talk about us and our...family. I want to say that I never forgot about you, but you know, then I’d be lying again.”

Aofil can’t muster up another nod to agree.

“That’s fair,” Chara sighs, “that’s fair… Can’t have everything in the world. I mean, a hug would be nice, but it would just be awkward for the two of us if I asked, right?”

Frisk’s head is gently tilted, but is quickly returned back to the bowl. “I’ll spare you, Aofil. By the way, don’t cry for me, please, not that I think that you would to begin with. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m not so good with being the face for Frisk and I. Don’t think I’ll ever be. I’ve kinda gotten used to just spectating. It might go without saying, but please don’t say anything to anyone else, Aofil. If it’s revealed that Frisk is housing me as well.”

Chara shakes Frisk’s head. “We got lucky that the Above Lab just came and went, so to speak. Who knows what can of worms that would’ve been opened if it kept on?”

“I’d rather not think about it,” sighs Aofil.

“Probably for the best, what with it all coming out of left field and almost ending it right there. You’ll keep quiet though? About me? Sorry for insulting you by asking, but I just want to hear it.”

“Chara...” Aofil reminds.

“Yeah, sorry. It feels a bit weird, all of this. Thinking about taking control was a whole other story back when-”

“Chara,” Aofil reminds again.

“It’s hard, sorry. Giving Frisk back their body, it’s what I should do, it’s what I want to. I won’t die, and I’ll be with Frisk as long as they allow me to. I don’t want to die, but I also don’t want to be a burden on Frisk. By the way, if you decide to stay, could you keep an eye on them for me, Aofil? A favor between siblings?”

Aofil doesn’t move an inch of their face.

“I’m dragging this out...” Chara narrows Frisk’s eyes. “I mean, can you blame me? It’s been a while since I actually spoke to someone and-”

“Chara,” Aofil reminds, again.

They close Frisk’s eyes, “Yeah, sorry,“ and breathe out slowly. “Take care, Aofil.”

“You too.” Aofil knows they’re being too generous, but if they’ve already agreed to not let it hurt for Frisk, then extending the offer to Chara isn’t the biggest stretch.

It’s quiet. Apart from some light breathing from both Aofil and Frisk, it is dead silent, but only for a short moment. Just a few seconds pass before Frisk’s body flies up on its feet. Aofil takes a step back, but steps forward with their hands at the ready to catch Frisk should they fall. Frisk stares at their own hands, clutching them slowly. They turn slowly around, staring through Aofil.

Aofil takes a step to the side, and Frisk meets their own reflection.

“No!” Frisk clutches their head. “Where are you?”

Aofil stares at the panicked human clutching its head. “Is Chara gone?”

“No!”

“How’re you feeling, Frisk?”

“Frisk is gone!”

Frisk is-

“What!” Aofil coughs out violently.

“Frisk is gone!” Chara pats Frisk’s body. “I can’t give them their body back! Why are they silent?”

Aofil grabs Frisk’s shoulder. “Where’s Frisk?”

“I don’t know!” Chara snaps Frisk’s head up to Aofil. “They’re gone! I can’t hear them. I can’t feel them! No. No! Why did I agree to this? What have I done?”

Chara rushes over to the nearest sink and grabs hold of the mirror. “Where are you, Frisk? Talk to me! Where are you?” They search the reflection for any indication of Frisk, the smallest hint of something they can’t control. “Talk to me! Please! It’s your body! Take it back!”

But nobody came.

Chara digs Frisk’s hands deep into the sharp sides of the mirror. “Frisk!” Chara yells into the mirror. “Come back! It’s your body! It’s your life! Come back, please!”

But nobody came.

“Frisk, you can’t be doing this! Don’t hide from me!” With a vicious tug Chara rips off the mirror from the flimsy plastic clamps holding it in place. “I need you! Everyone needs you! Where are you?”

The reflection stays angry. It stays confused. It stays on the brink of tears. It shakes just like the hands holding it does. Violently. There is no one else, there is only Chara.

So nobody comes.

“No...”

It’s silent.

“No!”

The mirror slides out of the quivering hands.

“No! No! No!”

And smashes against the solid tile floor. The shards crunch underneath Frisk’s knees as Chara falls down on them again. They clutch Frisk’s chest with one hand, “I know you’re in here, Frisk!” and follows it up with Frisk’s other hand. “Come back!”

A crimson light, a more distinct red than Aofil has ever seen, floods the white bathroom, turning it a hue that’s like hellfire. Chara stares at the hovering heart that Frisk’s hands are caressing. Their breathing increases, causing the heart to beat faster and faster.

“Frisk!” Chara screams into the heart. “Talk to me! I know you’re in there! Come back!”

But nobody ca-

“Come back to me!!!”

With a pained howl Chara crushes the heart, but it only causes their howl to shriek louder. They immediately release it as they fall over in tormenting agony. Chara falls down on the tiled floor with a heavy thud. The sound barely has time to echo once in the hollow room before it’s drowned out by pained sobs, interrupted by wails of dread.

“Where are you?”

No answer.

Chara’s tears flood the crevices between the tiles. Like blood it almost runs like an orthogonal river. Long slick shadows dance around the walls as Frisk’s fingers shudder with every sharp gasp that Chara takes to replenish Frisk’s burning lungs.

“Where have you gone?”

No answer.

“What have I done?”

Chara clutches the red soul again, but it only causes them to convulse violently.

“Why?”

They grasp the soul again, and again they roar in pain.

“Why!”

“Chara!” Aofil can’t just stand by and watch. “You’re hurting Frisk! Their body!”

“I’m…?”

The red fades from the room, and Frisk’s body collapses on the floor. Aofil bends over quickly to help, if they even can. The soul is no longer out, and Frisk’s chest is expanding and contracting, albeit very reservedly. Aofil turns them around so that they’re laying on their side.

“Frisk...” Chara whispers.

Aofil sits down on the closest toilet. They run their hands over their face.

Quiet and exhausted sobs echo throughout the stalls. Chara tucks Frisk’s arms and legs together, balling up into a bundle of trembling limbs and soft weeping.

“I’ve killed them...”

Aofil lifts their eyes up from the ground to the lamenting human sobbing with every sharp breath. Did they?

“Frisk…where are you?”

“You sure they’re gone?” Aofil asks carefully.

Chara’s glare is vicious, hateful, and filled with sorrow. “Of course I know! I’ve been with them for as long as I can remember, Aofil! It’s quiet! It’s so,” Chara can barely finish their sentence as the words lodge inside their throat, “quiet. They’re not here.”

With a pained cough Chara returns to squeezing Frisk’s arms and legs together.

“I’m a parasite without a host.”

“Chara.”

“I am!” Chara yells, breaking Frisk’s voice in the process. “I’ve killed the one that kept me alive!” they continue to yell despite the words barely escaping. They dry heave from the pain, and immediately return to sobbing.

“Chara,” Aofil tries again, “you need to calm down. You’re not gonna bring back Frisk by puking their guts out in grief.”

“B-but.”

“You squeezed your own soul, Chara. If that didn’t bring Frisk back then no pain will.” Aofil takes a knee next to Chara, being careful not to hit any glass. “Calm down, get some air in Frisk’s lungs so that you can think clearly. Here,” Aofil puts their arms under Frisk’s, “stand up.”

Frisk is heavy, and Aofil almost strains their back getting Chara up on Frisk’s feet. Carefully, Aofil brushes off Frisk’s back. Small shards of glass hit the tile floor like wind chimes.

“Drink some water,” Aofil suggests, and Chara obeys with no objection. They drink, and drink, and drink. Chara only stops to gasp for air. After what seems like a solid minute they stop the faucet and catch their breath completely.

“All your emotions, Frisk.” Chara meets Frisk’s face in the mirror. “Please, take them back,” they beg.

But nobody came.

Chara sighs deeply. “Fuck.”

Trying to ignore hearing Frisk swear, Aofil locks eye contact with Chara through the mirror. “Let’s see if we can figure this out.”

“I...” Chara clutches the sink with Frisk’s hands.

“Being angry won’t bring Frisk back, Chara.”

“It brought me back down in the Underground!” Chara turns with a stare that as sharp as a knife. “So why shouldn’t it work with Frisk now? What do you know about any of this, anyway! You’ve done everything in your power not to learn anything about magic!”

“Don’t put this on me, alright?” Aofil puts their foot down almost literally. “Don’t do something stupid now. You’re filled with emotions you yourself say you can’t control, Chara. Don’t lash out on me just because I’m the only one that’s with you. You’ll do something you’ll regret,” Aofil tucks at their shirt over their fur, “and you won’t bring Frisk back that way.”

“Ha!” Chara massages Frisk’s throat after almost coughing their innards out. “So pray tell, how do you know that?”

Aofil hardens their eyes. “And how do you know it will?”

Chara returns an even harder stare, “I know it worked with me! Maybe if I,” they keep it while hovering their hand over Frisk’s chest, “maybe if I get us some more determination? Maybe Frisk needs it to wake up, just like I did?”

“Chara,” Aofil moves themselves carefully around to block the front door, “calm down. Sit yourself down for a minute or so.”

“We can do this again,” Chara bends down, and picks up a large shard of glass, “and we’ll do it better.”

Chara digs Frisk’s other hand deep into their chest. “I just have to bring you back, Frisk. Bring you back so that we can become we again.”

Aofil’s eyes burst wide open as they see Chara steadily clench the glass shard. “Chara! Don’t!”

“Bring you back, by going back.”

No. Aofil won’t manage another reset. Won’t manage going through everything again! No! Not again!

“Chara!” they plead. “Chara, please don’t! Frisk wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“And how,” Chara snaps Frisk’s head towards Aofil, “would you know?”

“Chara, you’re drowning in Frisk’s emotions right now. Hell, not even Frisk’s, they’re yours now. You don’t want to reset, that much I know. Just please, calm down for just a moment so that you can think through your emotions.”

“I’m...” Chara releases the grip they forced on Frisk’s chest. “I...”

With a panicked sprint Chara rushes inside a stall. The glass in their hand falls and shatters against the solid floor. Violent spewing soon fill the acoustic room, but to Aofil it’s like relieving music. They lean back on the front door, and exhale loudly. They look at their hand. It’s shaking. It was close, even if Chara couldn’t reset, it was too close.

Aofil joins Chara in the stall after having regained some composure. They meet Chara with Frisk’s arms laying heavily on the rim of the bowl, bent so that the forearms holds up the moaning head. There’s no way that there’s any strength left to be angry in that body. Chara spits, and it lands on something more viscous than water. If Aofil hadn’t already vomited themselves dry before they’d feel sick at the sight of it all.

“Here,” Aofil again lifts Chara up, and leads them over to a sink. They help Chara wash away the last spots surrounding Frisk’s mouth, and fills up a cup of water for Chara to drink.

“Thanks,” Chara whispers.

“You feel well enough to try and figure something out?”

“No,” Chara quells a burp, “but the quicker I get Frisk back the quicker I’ll stop feeling this sick.”

That’s one way to think of it. Aofil flushes the toilet and waits for it to refill before leaning back against the sink adjacent to Chara. “Still can’t feel Frisk?”

Chara shakes Frisk’s head. “Nope, it’s dead quiet.”

“How about we try and not use that word?”

Chara agrees with a nod.

“Can we use the soul extractor?” Aofil suggests.

“How about we try and not use that word too?”

Aofil agrees with a nod.

“Maybe we can try the memory box with you?” Aofil suggests again. “If it’s enough to summon Asriel’s memory from when he fused with me it should be able to summon some of Frisk’s memories? Perhaps then they’ll wake up?”

Chara shakes Frisk’s head. “Only works on monsters.”

“No?” Aofil taps their chest. “It worked with me?”

“It worked with Asriel, not you. The piece of his soul that was in you worked as an adapter, so to speak,” Chara explains before taking another mouthful of water. They swallow it slowly before continuing. “Us humans need way more magic than what the memory box can produce.”

Aofil’s not entirely convinced. “Ok?”

“Frisk already tried before to try and extract me. Didn’t work. You still have Asriel inside you, so that should work again.”

Aofil’s arm starts itching. “Word travels fast.”

Chara retorts by shaking Frisk’s head again. “No, I’ve known for a while. I’ve also been fused with Asriel, remember? I know how his magic feels.”

“And me?”

“Well, you and I have the same soul, and-” Chara drops the empty cup of water, and stares through Aofil, all the way into a far away distance.

“Chara?”

“Shh!” Chara hushes Aofil. They bob Frisk’s heads slowly as they think. After a minute or so, Chara meets Aofil’s eyes again. “It might work!” A smile grows rapidly on Frisk’s lips. “It might work! Let’s go!”

Chara takes off towards the door. Where, when, and how, did they find the energy to do that?

“Wait!” Aofil stops Chara by grabbing Frisk’s arm. “How would what work?”

“The memory box! It might work for me! The reason it doesn’t work with humans is that it can’t get a grip on our magic since it’s too hidden away inside our souls. Monster are made out of their soul, and we’re just hosts for ours. That much you know, right?”

Aofil nods reluctantly. Just because they know it doesn’t mean they’re eager to accept it.

Chara only sees the nod though, and Frisk’s face lights up even brighter. “So if you first use the piece of Asriel you have in yours the memory box might be able to hook onto Asriel’s soul again, and use it to reach your soul, just like it did before. Since our souls are the same, we might be able to then have me use it with Frisk.”

In the corner of their eye, Aofil catches themselves in a mirror with a very disbelieving expression on their face. “Alright?”

“I’ll explain on the way to the skeletons.” Chara leans down on the door handle while beckoning for Aofil to follow. “Hopefully I can fetch it without Sans-”

A sharp pain flashes through Aofil’s head. “Fuck!” They clutch it and fumble for a nearby sink to brace on so that they don’t fall.

“Or that...” Chara looks to the side, away from Aofil gritting their teeth against the pain, and out towards the parking lot. “Sorry.”

The pain fades away, but the shock from it still lingers. “God damn.” Aofil takes some steadying breaths. Luckily it seems to help.

“And apparently you also missed your bus, Aofil.”

God damn.


	91. Waiting to go

"Or not?"

"What?" Chara looks over to the bus Aofil's pointing at standing in idle the end of the lot. They shake Frisk’s head. "No, that one's going the other way. Towards..."

Aofil catches the name on the sign at the front of the bus.

“Mt Ebott.”

They also catch Chara with Frisk's palms together over their face. Chara takes a deep breath, and exhales with the wind. "Yeah, that way."

Aofil nods. "Does that one also have sections for-" Their head jerks to the side at the pain building up inside their skull. "Them?"

"Yes, actually," Chara answers while keeping Frisk's head away from the bus, "they were the monsters that Frisk left with, the first monsters back on the Surface. So, naturally, we should plaster their faces all over!” Chara caresses Frisk’s head tiredly with an equally tired sigh. “Sometimes even I’m baffled by the monsters. Good thing it’s mostly the cross city buses left with that kind of advertising, and they’re about to be phased out. Thankfully.”

Chara beckons for Aofil to follow them, and the two humans head towards the local section of the bus terminal. As they pass the ticket booth the monster inside folds together the newspaper it was reading and greets first with a smile, but then with a worried frown.

The monsters leans out its eyes out the ticket booth, and then swivel them to Aofil. “You missed your bus.”

Aofil is forced to put on a smile. “Yes,” they nod, “it appears I did.”

The monster moves its eyes around Aofil. A bit too close for their taste, but the monster pays no mind, since it can’t see Aofil leaning away as much as they possibly can. “Did something go wrong in there?” the monster asks, indicating towards the bathroom with a claw. “Sorry if that’s too personal a question for you humans.”

“No,” Aofil lies, “that’s fine. Just human business.”

“Unfortunately you did forego the option for a refund, I’m afraid.” The monster returns its eyes to its body with an audible slurp. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, actually,” Aofil glances down towards Chara, “Right?”

Chara nods. “We need to head to Royal Street, please.”

“Frisk!” The monster in the ticket booth fumbles with its hat before managing to stick a claw through the top and take the hat off its head. “My apologies, I didn’t see you. How can I help the child of the Royal Couple?”

Chara needs a quick elbow from Aofil to be able to shake off the words that suddenly grip them like an invisible hand. They flub trying to form something to say. “Yes...”

“They’re a bit tired,” Aofil steals the attention of the monster by stepping in front of Chara, “but yes, I guess one adult ticket that can take me to Royal Street? I’m also guessing Frisk already has a pass.”

“Y-you’re going to see the Royal Couple, right?”

“Yes,” Aofil lies, “we are.”

“Then you’re a guest of them, correct?”

“You could say that.”

The monster lights up. “Ah, then I’m sure that Asgore-”

Aofil doesn’t manage to suppress their pained grunt. They motion for the monster to continue though. “It’s fine.”

The monster isn’t convinced, but still continues. “I’m sure you’ve been cleared as a Royal Guest, so public transportation should be free for you. As long as you have the card, that is.”

Well shit.

“And if I don’t?”

The monster points towards Chara. “Frisk should be able to vouch for you then. The bus departs at spot ‘H’ down the lot. There’s a stop at Royal Street, so you shouldn’t miss it.”

Aofil nods as thanks for the information, and ushers Chara towards the spot the monster pointed towards. The lot is still somewhat empty, much to Aofil’s delight. There are monsters waiting at other stops, but Aofil should be able to position themselves so that Chara stays out of sight. Having Chara around is bound to raise questions, so the less anyone sees of them the better.

No to mention that Chara, who is not Frisk, is Frisk. If what just happened at the ticket booth is any indication, then this might be a bit tricky.

“Squint when people get close, Chara,” Aofil suggests while leaning against the glass wall of the bus shelter so that they’re covering the view of Chara from that angle. “Or do you want me to say ‘Frisk’ instead?”

Chara shrugs as they sit down on the bench next to the bus stop. “I’d rather stick with Chara when we’re alone. Not entirely comfortable pretending to be them. Feels as if I’m violating their personal space.”

Aofil smacks their lips and tugs a smile. “Yeah.”

“Very much aware of the borderline hypocrisy, thank you very much. What with me being in control of Frisk’s body and everything, thank you even more much, Aofil. Good on you for reminding me.” With a last flail of Frisk’s wrist Chara crosses Frisk’s arms over their chest. “Seems like impersonating monster adopted human children runs in the family.”

“I only did it to try and help,” Aofil reminds with a weary sigh. “Would’ve done differently if I had the luxury.”

“Same here. I’m already dreading having to talk to Sans. He’s bound to pick up that something’s amiss. Hopefully just amiss, and not extremely wrong.”

“You want me to do the talking?” Aofil offers. “Frisk have never spoken to me before today, so we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“Hopefully.” Chara stares into the setting sun. “Hopefully...”

“You sure he has a memory box?”

“The,” Chara corrects, still with Frisk’s eyes towards the orange horizon.

“There’s only one?”

Chara nods.

“That’s strange,” Aofil tilts their head down in thought. It hurts a bit to think about it, but they’re pretty sure they’re remembering correctly. “The turtle, what was his name?”

Frisk’s brow furrows involuntarily. “Gerson?”

“Yes, Gerson. I visited him when I was in the Underground for the first time. Was it the first time? Did I go down there during the first reset?”

Chara shrugs deeply. “How should I know? I only saw it through Frisk’s eyes, not yours.”

“Fair.” Aofil returns to thinking for a minute or so, but to no avail. “Anyway, he used it on me, after telling me that he got one of many.”

“He did?” Frisk’s brow furrows. “Must’ve been your broken soul. Easier to influence, I guess, being broken and all. A bit curios why he said there were more than one though.”

“Thank you for reminding me about my broken soul,” Aofil says with sarcasm drooling from every pore.

“Makes us even,” Chara retorts. “To my, and Frisk’s, knowledge, there is only one memory box, and it’s with Sans. If there were more...” Chara widens Frisk’s eyes and blows through Frisk’s lips. “Then all hell would’ve broken loose. How did Gerson even get hold of it?”

“He said he got it from the wedding or something?”

“Wedding?” Chara thinks for just a split second before realizing, “Oh,” and uncrosses Frisk’s arms in bewilderment. “Oh!”

Aofil looks over their shoulder to check if two humans together in an almost vacant bus lot is still as uninteresting to the monsters as it was a couple of minutes ago. It seems to be the case, as the monsters waiting on the other stops are busy with themselves and their phones. “Is it bad that he had one?” Aofil asks Chara, who’s now almost falling off the bench in silent fear.

“Do you know what the memory box actually is?”

Aofil never had time to ask, so, “No.”

Chara prepares themselves. “Think of it as a test for the soul extractor. A prototype. The first machine that could store a part of a soul. Gaster invented it to test if it was even possible.”

Gaster, who? “Who?”

“Gaster,” Chara repeats. “Royal Scientist before Alphys?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Not a clue.”

“Okay, Gaster was the Royal Scientist before Alphys,” Chara explains quickly.

“Alright.”

“He invented, and fell into the CORE, and died.”

Aofil didn’t really need to know that. “Alright.”

“He made plans for the soul extractor, and also made the memory box.”

“Alright!” That’s enough for Aofil. “Why did he do that?”

Chara smacks Frisk’s lips. “Because of me. He was appointed to soul research after Asriel and I died.”

Just keeps getting better, doesn’t it! Aofil nods while averting their eyes. “Gotcha.”

“He managed to get a memory box working, like I said, and it seems like Gerson was a test subject for it. Would explain his hazy memory.”

“I mean,” Aofil shrugs lightly, “isn’t Gerson incredibly old?”

Chara stops in their thinking. “True...but it would also explain why he had the box in his possession to begin with. Gaster and Gerson worked close to Asgore, and I’m pretty sure they had some form of friendship. I didn’t meet Gaster much after I fell down. He was not really the most social one, always in the CORE. Him working on the memory box would explain his sudden interest in Gerson, now that I think about it. One of the oldest monsters, who’s soul is one of the fullest of memories.”

“How do you know this?”

“About the memory box?” Chara replies, but they soon realize that there’s no way Aofil could possibly mean anything else. “Well, you remember when you were down in the True Lab? Remember carefully, so that you don’t hurt yourself. There were signs with notes?”

“Can’t remember that there were any notes.” Aofil thinks for a couple more seconds. “No, no notes. Just something about it being deleted.”

“Gaster also kept notes, but his were in the CORE. It’s where he worked. Frisk found it with Sans. I may or may not have helped them. I tried, but I don’t know if Frisk heard me.”

“When did Frisk do that?”

“Around the time that Above Lab was beginning construction. At first Frisk just wanted to learn more so that maybe they could help with the construction, but they learned a bit more than what they wanted. The True Lab had barely sunk in for them, so it was a bit uncomfortable to learn about the memory box too, to say the least.”

“Fun stuff.”

“No need to lie, Aofil.”

Chara’s got Aofil there.

“So this Gaster made the memory box, and the soul extractor? With one of his fellow monsters as a test subject? That sounds a bit morbid.”

“Well,” Chara throws Frisk’s thumb over Frisk’s shoulder, “you know all about Alphys’ research. Hard choices had to be made after Asriel and I died. Desperation can do a lot once you get it rolling.”

“Like offering control over your own body to a human who’s only a piece of soul inside you to try and talk to said soul’s alive twin?”

“That’s...” Chara tugs Frisk’s head to a tilt, and then back up again, “oddly specific, but yes.”

Aofil glances over to the setting sun, squinting at the intensity of it. “I mean that much to them? I mean that much to the monsters?”

“Yup,” Chara nods solemnly to themselves, “you do. Wouldn’t risk this,” they motion up and down Frisk’s body with a forlorn hand, “otherwise. If only you could understand, Aofil.”

“Yeah,” Aofil mirrors Chara’s nod, “if only I could.”

It has to go both ways though. The monsters have to understand Aofil, otherwise Aofil can’t allow themselves to even consider. To top it all off they’re now under the same affliction they sacrificed so much to save the monsters from. If they could they’d slap themselves before they stepped on that bus yesterday. They went right back to the monster’s den, and literally as well!

And even worse…

Aofil angles their fur stained arm upward.

Even worse is that they’ve lost something to blame it on. Aofil’s lost the one thing they could point to and offload their problems onto. Now with it gone, they’re not sure if they can shoulder the weight.

Why are they staying though? Why are they agreeing to this? If they just leave and distance themselves from all magic it should be enough to not have their memories flare. If it was a valid option before, it should be a valid option now. There’s bound to be buses that are headed to somewhere that’s not Mt. Ebott. Should just take one and be done with all of this.

But Aofil doesn’t move.

Why? Why aren’t they moving? Frisk will come back, because it’s probably Aofil keeping them away. Chara could be holding Frisk back to garner sympathy from Aofil too. Hell, it could just be Frisk pretending to be Chara. Frisk can swear, Frisk can be mean. They’re human, not an angel.

So why is Aofil still here?

They swivel their head towards Chara, sitting quietly with Frisk’s arms crossed over Frisk’s chest. If anyone is none the wiser that it is Frisk’s body they’d think it is Aofil’s kid.

Aofil turns away their head.

Here they go again, sympathizing instead of trying to distance themselves which was their plan.

Why can’t they leave well enough alone? Alone without magic, alone without memories, alone without monsters putting all their bets on Aofil. Looking up to a human they just stumbled across to help them with everything.

What did Aofil get in return?

They got their twin back… Not that Aofil can remember their twin. No memory, no recollection.

And that’s the only positive they can think of. The rest that could be slightly positive is hurting their head!

So

Why

Are

They

Not

Moving?

An audible, but involuntary, huff escapes Aofil. Chara looks over. “You alright?”

“No...”

Chara returns Frisk’s eyes to the sunset. “Sucks.”

“Yup.”

They truly are an idiot.

“Still alone, by the way?”

Chara closes Frisk’s eyes for a moment. “Yup, still alone.”

Aofil glances over to the time table, shouldn’t be too long until the next bus comes. They sit down next to Chara. “’Royal couple’ seems to works.”

“What?”

“’Royal Couple’, the ticket booth monster said it, and it didn’t hurt.”

“They’ve never been a couple to you, so figures you wouldn’t react. Might want to not think about how they are now though.”

Aofil’s not sure. “Are they really it now?”

With a furrowed brow Chara tilts Frisk’s head, “What?” but a second later they realize what Aofil means. “Oh! Yeah, yes and no. Or, to be more specific, no and yes.”

“Alright?” Aofi’s head shakes on its own as even their spinal chord is confused.

“They live together in the same house, but they’re not together. It’s…” Chara shuffles uncomfortably around, “weird. I’d say complicated if I knew more, but I don’t.”

“Does Frisk know?”

“They don’t want to admit it.”

“Asriel?”

“Frisk haven’t asked.”

“Why are they living together then? Just for show?”

“To be honest?” Chara nods once. “Mostly. They don’t hate each other, but they’re not clinging over one another either. It’s like their relationship is in this state of, how to say it, like a caramel filled chocolate bar without any caramel inside.”

Chara holds Frisk’s open palm towards Aofil, who blinks quietly. They don’t find a connecting thread though. “Do you want another minute to expand on that analogy, Chara?”

“Say that you buy a caramel filled chocolate bar, but then when you bite down on it it’s hollow. I grew up with it being filled with caramel, but right now it’s just the shell. It’s not entirely gone, but the gooey and succulent filling is gone. They both have done taken this whole ‘New Chapter’ spiel to soul, Asg-” Chara halts Frisk’s tongue just in time.

“Thanks.”

“He took it straight away,” Chara continues, “but for her, it took a little while longer. He had a chance to be the one that she fell in love with again, and he took it. He’s been the king he was before, you know.”

Aofil does. “Yes.”

“Asriel definitely helped as well. He, as in Asriel he, not as in he he, gave them both a common ground to build on. I don’t know if the two of them have talked about it, but Frisk hasn’t heard anything, and they’re too nice to ask. Live and let live in the household, basically. Everyone involved knows what it feels like when a house of card topples, so none are too eager to push the question.”

“Fair enough, I guess.”

The bus comes into view shortly after, and Aofil motions for Chara to squint.

“I can see surprisingly well,” they comment after an inquisitive hum.

Aofil hushes Chara as the bus rolls up to their stop. The doors are opened, and the bus driver glances over. “Frisk!” The driver fumbles with his hat. “A pleasure to drive you today, Frisk.”

Chara nods towards Aofil.

“Ah yes, and your human companion.”

Despite being behind Chara, Aofil still notices them tugging Frisk’s lips into a smile. Not a friendly one though, an amused one. Aofil gently pokes the back of Frisk’s leg with their knee so that Chara gets a move on, and the two of them find an empty pair of seats.

Aofil feels eyes in their neck, torso, legs, everywhere, as the murmur of monster whispers surround them. Chara’s not too pleased with the situation, but the whispers seem to be content with conversing about the two humans that just entered, and not with the humans that just entered.

Chara looks out the window, and when the first shadow passes and darkens the window so that Frisk’s face is seen in the reflection, they turn their head away with a sigh.

Monsters come, monsters go, as the bus stops on its journey through the Monster City. The constant influx of new monsters means that the whispering stays constant, but Aofil forces their mind to regard it as just white noise, and they pay no attention to what the monsters have to say. The only word they pick up is when the speaker system informs that, “Up next, ‘Royal Street’!” with a robotic voice not unlike Mettaton. It’s clearly not him though, as the announcement wasn’t accompanied by either confetti and or strobe lights.

The whispers follows Chara and Aofil out, but disappear when the bus door closes behind them.

Royal Street.

Back again, after promising never to return. Aofil takes a long and deep breath. The street is quiet, no one’s outside despite the nice sunset bathing everything in a glistening orange glow. Weather might be nice outside, but inside? Probably overcast with heavy rain and sulking thunder.

“Let’s get this over with,” Aofil proposes and heads in the direction of the only house that could belong to the skeletons.

Chara follows them closely behind. “This might go without saying, but I’m gonna keep quiet for as much as I can. We have a reason for me to, and the less I say, the less Sans gets wiser.”

No disagreement there.

Aofil’s distrustful of the doorbell at the door since it’s clearly connected to a buzzer designed to mildly shock anyone naive enough to press it. Aofil knocks three times on the door instead and backs off.

“What if Papyrus opens?” Chara whispers.

“He’s busy.”

“You sure?”

“Unless the world somehow got a lot smaller.”

Hazy and dragging footsteps close in from inside, and Aofil steps back to let the door swing open. It opens slowly, with Sans standing in a pair of bunny slippers. He looks up and down Aofil, and raises one eye socket.

“didn’t i tell you to stop being so dramatic, aof?”


	92. An old acquaintance

"or did frisk manage to talk you through all of this?"

Sans closes the door behind Aofil and Chara. The humans trade worried glances, but nod to each other to keep going. They just need to convince Sans to lend them the memory box, that's all.

Aofil takes a steadying breath.

That's all...

"what was that?"

Aofil turns their head around. "What was what?"

Sans points a finger and a lowered brow towards Aofil. "you just collected yourself. why?"

"It's been a pretty rough day today." Aofil throws a hand up. "So, you know..."

"from what i heard you kinda made the rough part yourself." Sans heads over to the sofa and sinks down in it. "if only you had listened to your 'ol pal sans.”

The silence is deafening.

It doesn’t deter Sans in the slightest though. “so the dreemurrs know about that arm of yours now?" he wonders while leaning back with his hands behind his head.

Aofil stifles a grunt. Their head bursts awake with pain at the name, but Aofil needs to keep it in for a little while longer. "They do."

Sans peeks open one eye. "asriel too?"

"Last time I checked he was a Dreemurr." Another kick in Aofil's head, and this one they summoned themselves.

"i see." Sans closes his eyes. "gonna be real interesting to see how you'll come back from this one. both figuratively, and literally."

"Yeah, about that..."

Sans peeks his eye. It's narrowed. "you are planning on fixing this and coming back, right? because i'm not really in the mood to deal with the aftermath, you know? i'm a busy monster. i have a lot on my hands."

Sans' hands is full of his head, clasped behind, and resting against the top of sofa cushion. "Yeah." That Aofil can agree on, but otherwise? No, not really. They sill nod despite not agreeing in the slightest. "I can see that."

"and because you are such a wonderful human you'll do your friend right in fixing this mess you've stirred up, aof." Sans glances over to Frisk. "won't you agree?"

Chara opens Frisk's mouth, "Yea-" but immediately closes it.

Dammit.

Sans slowly opens his other eye. He runs them up and down Frisk's body. He then glances over to Aofil, and then back to Frisk. "why are you here?” His words are slow and deeply inquisitive.

“We need to-” Aofil starts, but Sans puts his hand up.

“i asked frisk,” Sans informs to Aofil without taking his eyes of Frisk. “i want to hear it from frisk, because apparently they can speak around you now, aof. forgive my curiosity as i wonder how the acoustics will be now with their voice bouncing off your body. a bit weird, don’t you agree? even weirder considering the reason why they didn’t in the first place. i’m sure you know why, aof. it would be the first thing i would say, but then again, i’m not a human.”

Chara looks to Aofil, fear building up behind Frisk’s eyes. Chara’s still keeping them narrowed, but Aofil can still see the worry clearly. They look at each other for too long, and Sans leans forward. The soft shuffling of fabric is enough to let the two humans know that he’s caught that something is amiss. They did plan for it, but now that they’re confronted about it, they’re not sure if they’ll manage.

Chara breaks eye contact with Aofil, and lowers Frisk’s head. “Memories.”

“what kind?”

“Bad ones.”

“from aofil?” Sans moves his surprised face over to Aofil. “about chara?”

The humans trade a quick glance. “No,” Chara shakes Frisk’s head, “about the first reset.”

“i see. but speaking of chara,” Sans turns his head back towards Chara, “has it finally decided to fade away now, frisk? only guess i can come up with as to why you can speak with aof now.”

“No,” Chara clenches Frisk’s fist something fierce, “they’ve not.”

“when did you start addressing chara as ‘they’? is it just because aofil is around?” Sans scratches his lobe. “i mean i like aof, but don’t you think bridging the gap closer between them and chara would be a bit, you know, horribly bad? or am i missing something here?”

Oh he has no idea, and if the humans play their cards right, he’ll stay that way.

“because you humanizing chara is giving it more room, frisk. and here i thought you put that, and it, behind you after...” Sans trails off as he’s visibly annoyed that he has to remember. “after you managed to convince yourself that chara really was a parasite.”

Chara quickly swipes a tear away from Frisk’s eye. They were lucky this time, Sans lowered his head and sighed, so he didn’t catch Chara’s act, but Aofil’s a bit concerned how long Chara can keep up the facade. A bit might be an understatement, but Aofil can’t show that it is.

“we’ve been over this, frisk, and i’m gonna repeat myself here so that aofil also hears. bringing back a human is not gonna happen. asriel we were lucky with. a monster is just magic, a human is a combined laundry and shopping list long of impossible reasons on top of the absurd amount of magic. i’ve no idea what you two have been talking about, but chara is dead. whatever sliver that’s left of it is hanging on to frisk’s soul, doing nothing but drain frisk of their very essence. in the same way i’m guessing that you would think that just a pinky toe is a lost case, chara won’t be coming back from what it is now. i want to recommend an exorcist, but can’t for the life of me find one.”

Sans throws his arms sideways out from behind his head. “and every single time its name is brought up the mood just crashes through the floor and into the underground, as demonstrated here. i’d say that would be appropriate, but to be frank, and also sans, but at the moment frank, i don’t even want to give it the time of day for a pun. i’ve done plenty damage enough by giving it any time of day to begin with. it might’ve been the hope of the underground, but the past tense is what it is for a reason. chara might’ve been your twin, aof, and again past tense, and even more past for you. it might be the only one left that you can’t save, frisk, but a dead human is a dead human.”

Sans returns his hands behind his head. He follows a tear falling from Frisk’s eye, and jerks back as it crashes against the floor mat. “look, kiddo, i know it hurts, but it’s gonna hurt much more if chara gets any sort of influence over you, again. the only way it was solved was with a reset, and we can’t afford one now. because reason one, we won’t be able to put the asriel genie back into the lamp, or plant pot, and then pull him out again. we’ve already done that trick, and it won’t amaze away the memories again. if anything, it would be worse for everyone. even if we bring him back it would just raise the bar up to the old memories’ level, not smash above like it did this time. the element of surprise is what fixed this, and i don’t think anyone else except perhaps chara can surprise on an equal level as asriel, but as i’ve just discussed, no.”

“and to be honest,” Sans scoffs lightly to himself, “i’m kinda enjoying this timeline. just need to convince this one,” he nods towards Aofil, who in response massages their lobe while shaking their head, “to come back, and everything will be perfect. as perfect as perfect can be, that is, since it appears that all the cards are on the table, and not in the sleeves where they couldn’t to any damage. but hey,” Sans shrugs with his palms up, “we’ve done worse.”

Aofil crosses their arms. “Have we now?”

“well, there was this time when frisk here saved all the monsters from eternal imprisonment, and this time when we managed to revive the prince of said ex imprisoned monsters. the worst though,” Sans puts up a finger, “was when you lied to toriel about the snails. i mean come on-”

Aofil remembers, and they almost collapse from the pain blossoming inside their skull. They stumble backwards, but manage to find a chair to fall into. They lean forward while clutching their head in agony.

Sans’ finger is bent back down by gravity as he stares at Aofil trying to contain the pain bursting from inside. “oh. that kind of bad memories. from the first reset?”

Aofil manages to force a nod, but it immediately shuts them down into a hazy and overwhelming ache.

Sans furrows his brows in thought. “but, it wasn’t that different though?”

Aofil’s strained breathing tells otherwise.

“unless...” Sans shifts his heads towards Chara. “was there one before?”

Chara nods.

Sans pupils disappear for a short while, but he shakes them back. “alright, i’ll have to deal with that later, i guess. heh,” He eases himself down the sofa. “never a dull moment when you’re around, ey aof? try and think about your date with muffet yesterday. should be enough to quell the old memories.”

“How did you-” Aofil breathes through clenched teeth. ”And it wasn’t a date.”

“yeah, like you would have any chance with her,” Sans winks, “and the fact that you can be embarrassed about it shows that it works.”

Sans puts his hand down close to the ground. “imagine, little...” He moves it up and down while furrowing his brow in deep thought. “huh, what would they be? human spiders? spider humans?”

“You just said I didn’t have a chance...” Aofil leans back in the chair, massaging their head.

“i’m trying to help you here, aof.”

Sure…

“anyways, imagine the wedding. silk dress on muffet, spun from, and by herself. a nice tuxedo made out of spiders on you to complete the arachnigement.”

“I’m-”

Sans flexes a finger to move the chair Aofil’s sitting on. They almost fall off it, barely managing to counter the movement. “shh,” Sans hushes, “i’m helping you.”

Aofil’s not convinced.

Sans gives the chair another tug with his magic before Aofil has time to form a retort. “as i was saying, spider wedding. would be quite expensive, but maybe she’ll cut you a deal on it? what do you say, frisk? five, maybe six percent off?”

Chara’s not in the mood to humor Sans. They’re rubbing Frisk’s arm with their other, looking down, and doing their damnedest to contain themselves.

“was worth a shot,” Sans returns his focus to Aofil.

“I met her before!” Aofil forces out with great effort and strain.

“huh,” Sans searches his mind for how to save the situation. After some silent thinking he wiggles his eyebrows. “and to imagine, it all started with an impropriety date at the finest of monster restaurants that could in no way be familiar from a previous reset since it could only have been constructed from the circumstances that have no correlation, nor causation, to the events that might’ve been similar, but ain’t, since said resets didn’t allow for these sets of parameters to result in parallels being drawn in a logical sense and is therefore not applicable for the soul and mind to squabble over.”

Aofil’s head is still thumping away, but suddenly they feel it’s something they can handle. It’s not their memories anymore, it’s Sans that’s now causing their head to hurt. Although if they really can handle Sans is a question for another time. Right now the illusion is enough, and Aofil don’t intend on breaking it anytime soon. They’re gonna have a lot more on their mind, in their mind, very soon already. They exhale a weary sigh, and remove their hands from their head.

Sans takes a bow. “you’re welcome, aof. i’ll send my consultation fee to your home here once you move back. if my guess is correct i’m pretty sure you’ll be at the end of royal street, so i might even hand you the bill in hand. if i have the time, of course.”

“Yeah,” Aofil blows their lips as the soothing tiredness from the pain they just had to endure washes over them, “whatever.”

“thing is, and this might just be my gut feeling, my full, fleshed out gut feeling.”

“Don’t make it worse, Sans,” Aofil pleads, despite knowing full well how futile it is.

“maybe,” Sans heads back to the sofa, “what my in no way hollow gut feeling says is that first we have to find a more permanent solution to your headaches. memorygraines? yeah-”

“No.”

Sans waves away the additional plead. “and i have some suspicions as to which solution you have in mind for these memorygraines. question is though, is there any other way you have in mind? because the thing you’re thinking about is not something i want to use again.”

“I’m with you on that part,” Aofil makes sure to agree. They throw a careful nod as to not rustle their mushed brain towards Chara. “Frisk and I haven’t figured out anything else.”

“you think it’s gonna work on a human?” Sans asks Chara with an inquisitive tone. “it worked with aof and asriel because they were fused.”

Chara points carefully at Aofil’s arm, they seem to have managed to regained some form of steadiness in Frisk’s voice. “Aofil still has some of Asriel inside their soul. Should be enough for the box to hook onto.”

“oh yeah,” Sans is a bit taken back by himself that he didn’t remember, “that should be enough. although, wouldn’t that result in aof going through their old memories as asriel?”

“What?” Aofil looks at their arm. “This is all I have of him. Besides, wouldn’t my soul sort of, I don’t know, take over? I’m a human, and our souls are so far above monster souls it’s not even funny?”

“heh. no need to brag,” Sans throws a wink to Aofil, who twists their lips into an annoyed frown, “but that’s why i said that it might happen. if it happens, you will probably also remember it as being you, and not asriel. whether it’ll help or worsen your memories, that i don’t know. heck, i don’t even know how to use the memory box besides its intended purpose. it’s horrible as a conversation starter, it clashes with the interior, and you can’t even store things in it.”

Sans shakes his head. “horrible.”

“My soul bleeds for you.”

“thank you. don’t let asriel drip all over your organs though.”

Aofil needs to close their eyes and recenter themselves for a bit before continuing. Sans made good in calming down their headache, but he is quickly making a new one to replace it. “Where is the memory box, Sans?”

“huh,” Sans crosses his arms and scratches his chin, “good question.”

No.

“No.”

Absolutely not. Aofil refuses to believe that.

“I know that this might be the first exercise you’ve ever gotten, Sans, but please jog your memory.”

Sans chuckles heartily. “good one.”

“I’m serious!”

“and so am i, thank you very much. forgive me for trying to distance myself from something that, by all accounts, is a pretty horrible thing to have in existence. the surface has been pretty draining on me as well, you know, i had to relearn to give a damn. gotta tell you, it ain’t easy. so please, just give me a minute to think here.”

Okay?

Aofil narrows their eyes on the grumbling skeleton. “You alright, Sans?”

He exhales tiredly. “i am, sorry. it’s just, heh, having my fate in my own hands again, i kinda forgotten how it felt back in the underground. i woke up for the third time every morning, and though to myself,” he flexes his hands, “oh geez, this sure does seem a lot like yesterday. in fact, it’s just the same.”

“i’m not talking about sleeping the entire day away,” Sans makes sure to be perfectly clear, “although that was the case a few times.”

“no,” with a couple of taps on his skull, Sans continues after a sigh, “i’m talking about the memories. i can’t pinpoint exactly when, but the fact remains that i became somewhat aware that something was wrong. that it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me about the world, but the world playing tricks on me. i did some research, probably did the same research a dozen times or so before i could scrape enough memories together to continue. i didn’t get anywhere though, and decided to just roll with it. if the world didn’t care about moving forward, why should i?”

Sans shrugs with a sideways nod towards Chara. “then kiddo here broke the barrier, and the rest you know, aof. begrudgingly so, i assume, but hey, such is life. anyway, suddenly, tomorrow will become yesterday, and then the day before yesterday, and then yesterweek, yestermonth, and yesteryear. it was so strange, at first. now it’s no longer strange for me, but it’s strange for me,” Sans taps his chest while glancing over to Aofil, “you following?”

Aofil nods carefully.

“so yeah, just need to soldier along with this freedom, i guess. don’t think i want to go back how it was though. like i said, i’ve gotten used to this. just need to get comfortable, that's all. good thing i have this sofa to help me.”

“And the box?”

“hm?”

“The memory box?” Aofil repeats a bit slower.

Sans points behind Aofil. They turn around, and find a plant pot resting on top of a very conspicuous looking box.

They turn back to Sans. “You serious?”

“it clashes horribly with the wallpaper, i know. it’s where it clashes the least though, so there’s that.”

Aofil swears under their breath. Half towards Sans not telling where it is to begin with, and half because they agree that it would look worse everywhere else in the house.

The box is lighter than Aofil expected. It feels heavy in their hand, but it’s actual weight is a lot less than it looks like. Its many engravings gives it a very uneven texture. The metallic finishing is weathered from age.

Or use…

Speaking of use. “So how does it work, exactly? How do I activate it?”

“bring out your soul and it should latch onto it. then i guess just think about what memory you want to explore.”

Aofil throws a very disdain look at Sans. “You guess?”

“haven’t really done much with it, believe it or not.”

Chara moves closer, and places themselves next to Aofil. The two humans share a glance.

“I don’t want to hurry you up, Aofil, but please hurry up,” Chara begs with Frisk’s voice just enough for Aofil to hear. It’s back to being borderline audible. Frisk’s body is shaking like a leaf.

“you should probably step back, kiddo,” Sans advises. “we don’t want to have it latch onto you.”

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

“aof...”

Aofil looks up. “What?”

“what was that?”

“What was-”

“your smile,” Sans interrupts sharply and with weight. “that you just did. the one that one do when one knows something the other doesn’t. what am i missing?”

Aofil’s eyes betray them as they shuffle by their own volition over to Chara.

“frisk?”

The temperature in the room drops below freezing. The weight of it has Chara coughing a sob. It’s violent.

“why frisk?”

“To bring them back...”

Aofil’s neck tenses to the brink of breaking as they snap it around to Chara.

“I’m sorry...” Frisk’s mouth starts quivering, “I need them back. I shouldn’t be here.”

“so.”

A rapid gust knocks Aofil off their chair, as Sans shortcuts in between them and Chara. With hollow eyes he looks back and forth between the humans.

“a family reunion.”


	93. It's a beautiful day outside

"too bad you didn’t call before you came. i would’ve cleaned the house for you," Sans draws a long sigh through his nose. “now i guess i have to clean the house with you.”

The light fades from the room as a heavy aura dims from the ceiling down. Chara stumbles backwards, away from the grinning skeleton. They quickly hit a wall though, and sink down in a hail of sharp sobs and weathered crying.

“good to see that your memory still holds up. if it were any other person i’d be intrigued to research this,” Sans snaps his fingers, pushing Chara down even further into the floor. Aofil tries to stand up, but Sans does the same to them, “but i can’t for the life of me get over this unyielding rage inside. such a shame.”

With a scoff, the room becomes even darker.

“oh well,” Sans shrugs with his palms upwards. Above them hovers two giant animalistic skulls, one above each hands, “i’m sure it will fade in a second or two, like you will. you want to feel how it is to be at the helm? the same it was the last time you tried.”

“Sans, stop.”

Sans swivels his head around. Two infinitely black voids stare at Aofil. “don’t you worry, i don’t have favorites for family members. you’ll get the same as your twin here, aof. or are you chara as well?”

“Chara wants to disappear!”

“good,” Sans turns back around, “then the two of us want the same thing.”

“Frisk is still in there, Sans! We’re trying to bring them back!” Aofil sits up after a lot of strain fighting against Sans’ magic. It takes a toll on Sans as well, and he bends over a bit to catch his breath. Aofil can see him squeezing the fabric inside his pockets.

“why did Frisk disappear in the first place?”

“It’s...” Chara gasps for air, “it’s my fault.”

Sans has to compose himself again. His fingers are almost ripping his pocket asunder, but he stands his ground. “heh, figured that one out all by myself, kiddo.”

“No, it’s...” Chara puts Frisk’s hand over Frisk’s chest, “they wanted me to come out. To convince Aofil to stay.”

Sans trades glances with both of the humans. His brow furrows, but he doesn’t force any of the humans down again as they try to stand up. He nods for Aofil to stand next to Chara, and they oblige. “i’m gonna keep these two out though,” he says while indicating with his returning pupil towards the skulls floating silently. “more witnesses, if you don’t mind. now, pray tell, why should i believe a single thing from the two of you?”

Chara begins, “Because...” but they trail of before almost falling over. Aofil catches them. Frisk is pale, and cold sweat is running all over them.

“dramatic,” Sans is quick to comment, “should sell tickets.” With a quick flick of his wrist he sends a chair over to the humans.

“Because it’s the only way to get Frisk back,” Aofil eases Chara down into the chair, and gently sits them down as comfortable as possible. “The two of them apparently made a deal. Chara would take over to try and convince me, and in return...”

“and in return? besides having control of frisk’s body to do whatever.”

Chara can barely hold Frisk’s eyes open.

“Believe it or not-”

“i don’t.”

Aofil motions with their open hand towards Chara. “It’s hurting them to do this. To be in control.”

“that’s what they’re telling you, aof,” Sans also motions with his hand towards Chara, but his gesture is the opposite of Aofil’s. “they’ve taken over frisk and killed everyone once already, so i would take what they say with a grain, if not the entire jar, of salt. they’re slippery as a snail, and nowhere sweet enough to also be a pie. salt is what you need here.”

“Not according to Chara. It was because their and Frisk’s shared determination that Frisk lost control.”

Chara nods faintly.

It only summons a disdained look from Sans. “just because they said it with frisk’s tongue doesn’t make it true.” He raises his eyebrows. “i’m a believer in that actions speak louder than words, and chara tried to wreak genocide on all of monsterdom. so you know,” Sans rubs his finger on the side of his head, “ears still ringing from that.”

“Mine are too from when you tried to kill me, Sans,” Aofil reminds with a similar cleaning of their own ear, “but as you so much want me to believe, it wasn’t all that it looked out to be. Even a lazy sack like you can make the mental leap that the same can happen to you.”

“heh,” Sans wiggles an eyebrow, “seems like your head isn’t hurting from remembering, aof.”

Aofil indicates at the two large and ominous skulls above Sans. “Mostly because it’s busy worrying about these two.”

“fair,” he agrees, “but you still haven’t told me what your twin here is getting out of this whole ordeal. i have some guesses on the spectrum of bad to horrible, but humor me for a bit, will ya?”

“I don’t actually know,” Aofil admits. They catch themselves intrigued, perhaps even more than Sans. Aofil gently disturbs Chara by shaking Frisk’s shoulder very lightly. “What would you gain in return, Chara?”

“I...”

Aofil helps Chara sit up in the chair as Frisk’s body almost slides out of it.

“I just want to save someone. Just...one...” Chara moves Frisk’s eyes from Aofil to Sans. “I couldn’t save Aofil when we were kids, I couldn’t save the monsters with Asriel, and my presence inside Frisk almost killed the monsters. Now I’m killing them too.”

Sans nose would’ve been wrinkled if he had one.

“If I could save Aofil, and get them back with their friends, then that would be enough.”

Sans looks over to Aofil to gauge their reaction. Aofil isn’t showing anything though.

“was it yours or frisk’s idea?” Sans asks directly after with a faint sigh.

“Frisk’s.”

“and how much convincing did you need?”

“More than Frisk could muster. I couldn’t allow them to. They wanted to do it when they met you in your school last weeks, Aofil. I refused. I couldn’t allow them to. I was too scared.”

“yet here you are,” Sans reminds with a sharp tilt of his head. “so if you could stop lying that would calm down my tinnitus a bit for me to try and hear if there’s any truth in your words.”

“Frisk...they forced me. Suddenly I could see, and feel, breathe, think. It was overwhelming.” Chara has to pause to catch some air. “I almost gave into the determination back there, Aofil. That’s why I gloated when I first saw you. Luckily Frisk was loud enough to remind me. Otherwise...”

“you trailing off like that isn’t exactly giving me the greatest of confidence about this, you know? and when you say that frisk was loud, you mean that they’re quiet now?”

Chara nods, which prompts Sans’ pupils to vanish almost instantly. They come back after a second or so though, and he sighs with his hand on his forehead. “you believe them, aof?”

A musical tune fills the room. Chara turns Frisk’s head down towards Frisk’s leg. Through the fabric, Aofil sees Frisk’s phone vibrate. They push it out.

‘Mom’

Aofil has to close their eyes as a stinging shock charges through their skull. Dammit! They push the back of their hand against their forehead, and by doing so, they show Chara the caller.

“Mom...”

Frisk’s body goes limp.

Aofil quickly disconnects the call, and puts their hand on Frisk’s shoulder.

They’re still breathing though, but it’s pained. Exhausted.

Scared.

Aofil again balances Frisk on the chair, “You’ve lied worse to me, Sans,” and pockets the phone back into Frisk’s pants, “so listening to Chara can’t be worse than what I’ve already done.”

“heh,” Sans scoffs, “got me there,” and clasps his hands together. “so, how do we get frisk back? preferably in time for when the second call arrives, or when the front door gets kicked in.”

Aofil beckons for the memory box behind Sans. “Chara uses the box to try and reawaken Frisk.”

Sans turns around to look at the box. He smacks his tongue, and returns his head towards Aofil, albeit with an inquisitive tilt to it. “it can’t hook into human souls though, and i’m not in the mood to tinker around with my own soul, i’m afraid. both figuratively, and literally.”

Aofil walks over to pick up the box, because Sans clearly won’t. They turn the box around in their hand. “We’ll calibrate it, or whatever, for my soul. Me and Chara’s are the same, so it might work.”

“and then?”

“I’ll use it myself, I guess.” Aofil pushes the flat of their free hand against their forehead. “Feeling a bit of a headache coming along, so that plan is still in motion.”

Just need to activate it, and then it’s off to the races. If Aofil had any mind left to spare they’d second think all of this, but with current company present, and previous company from another conflicting time, and memory, knocking loudly at the door, Aofil’s too busy to juggle what ifs. Even though what ifs are the reason everything is happening…

They heave a deep exhale in hopes that the thoughts follow the air out of their head. Should keep focus on the box, and try to get it open. There’s no lock or anything on it. Come to think of it, there’s really nothing on it. Sure, there’s ornate carvings, but nothing that Aofil can use. No button, no nothing. They can’t find a way to activate the box.

“Some help?” they ask of Sans while holding the box out for him.

“yes, just let me get within arm’s reach of the kid who’s determination almost killed the entire underground, and their twin which has the exact same soul, and determination!”

Aofil’s face and shoulders sink into a tired frown. “Sans...”

He snaps his fingers again, and the skulls above him vanish with a silent gust. “just needed to get it out of my system.” He puts his hands back into his pockets, and meanders over towards the humans. “let’s see here.”

Sans inspects it thoroughly while making no effort to remove it from Aofil’s hand. He checks every side carefully, thinking in whispers at every line stretching across the box.

“You’ve done this before, Sans...”

“i know, i know.”

“So, what’s different?”

Sans swivels his pupils and eyebrows from the box over to Aofil, “apart from everything?” and returns them after Aofil fails to produce an answer. “but i guess the biggest difference here is that we’re trying to not only do it to a human, but also on a human that’s not the human it will be used on. i can’t hot swap my toast in the morning without risking my fingers burning.”

“i mean,” Sans looks to the side with a quick shrug, “i can do it with my magic, but others can’t. you get my point, right aof?”

Aofil mirrors the shrug. “I guess?”

“besides, if you die, or even worse, frisk dies...”

Aofil’s not sure how to take that.

“then the royals, and everyone else, will probably, certainly, kill me.”

Aofil indicates with their free hand to the empty air above Sans’ shoulders. “So then what was those skulls about?”

“you gotta stop living in the past, my friend. gotta let it be behind you where it belongs.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to an ass just for fun now, Sans. Or if you think provoking me is somehow gonna makes this easier?”

Sans pauses to think about what he just said. He shrugs it off after some quick deliberating. ”some determination might actually be good in this case, but it was not my intention, believe it or not. i’m trying to do good here and focus everything i got into figuring out the safest way for us to do this arguably idiotic idea.”

“There are arguments for what we’re doing?”

“you’re the one telling me that frisk and chara is hurting, aof. interrupting me to nitpick is not gonna make this faster. unless you’ve figured out how to reset.” Sans closes his eyes for a second or two, but it’s not long enough. Aofil sees but for a brief moment that his pupils have faded. “but i’m sure you wouldn’t be in this predicament if you could.”

“You can take the box out of my hand, by the way,” Aofil advises. “You don’t have to bend all over me.”

“a couple of reasons. one, the box is made out of magic. two, i’m made out of magic. three, adding these two together might lead to some corruption. or you experiencing the memories as me, and thinking that me is you. i wouldn’t call that corruption though. again, if it was just you, or just frisk, then it would be fine, but since we’re trying to make it susceptible even after being calibrated, then i’m gonna refrain from touching it. you’ve carried heavier things, you’ll be fine.”

Aofil opens their mouth for a few well chosen words, but Sans stands up straight, “i think i’ve looked at it enough now,” and nods towards Chara. “i’m gonna assume that they’re ready as can be.”

Frisk’s body looks very peaceful and calm, but from all the evidence laid out during the day, Aofil’s convinced that the peace is only skin deep.

“So, step one?”

Sans throws a thumb over his shoulder. “let us move the kiddo over to the sofa.”

“And by us-” Aofil doesn’t even bother finishing the sentence. Expecting anything else than a quip and a wink from Sans would require a miracle.

Aofil would rather use the miracle to increase their chances of this going somewhat fine.

Gotta have that miracle in the first place though…

Carefully, Aofil eases Frisk’s body up on their shoulder. Frisk is rather light for their size, which is all fine for Aofil at the moment. They’re not really a heavyweight contestant themselves, so it still takes a bit of effort to move Frisk across the room.

Sans watches Aofil put Frisk down on the sofa. “not as young as you used to be?”

“Zip it.”

“grab that chair,” Sans motions for one across the room, “and bring it here.”

Aofil reaches for one that’s much closer though, leaving Sans without one near him to use. His furrowed stare fails to reach Aofil. They instead motion for him to start. “Ready as can be on my part as well.”

“so, the first step is to bring out your soul, aof. frisk’s too.”

Aofil looks down at their chest. “Any chance we can do it without taking them out?”

“yes, actually,” Sans nods, “but that is adding another layer of chance to this cake of chances. you’re both gonna eat it and have it too, so it’s up to you how high you want it to be.”

“Is it already towering?”

“i’d say so, yeah.”

“Then what is another layer, really?”

“heh,” Sans beckons for Aofil to scoot closer with their chair, “i guess so.”

With a few careful jumps, Aofil inches closer to the sleeping human. They hold the box in their outstretched hand between their and Frisk’s chest.

“a bit closer to yours,” Sans instructs, “once you feel like you’re being sucked away shove it into frisk’s chest. hopefully that will be enough for it to be configured for your soul, and not enough for it to begin working on your soul.”

“Hopefully...” Aofil repeats. A weary sigh is forced out of them. “Always that word.”

“it makes sense in this situation, i’d argue.”

“Why?”

“because we have three of them. well, two and a...something. two and a half if i’m generous.”

Two and a half?

“Of what?” Aofil wonders, despite them being a bit afraid of the answer.

“hopes.”

The moment of silence following speaks volume.

“you don’t know what your soul means, do you? or what frisk’s, and i’m hesitant to say it, but chara’s meant as well?”

“I know that it means almost everything bad that has happened to me,” Aofil is quick to inform, but please, pray goddamn tell. “What does my soul mean?”

“hope.”

“Of course it does...”

“why else would all the monsters that have gotten near you feel stronger? why do you think that you and frisk mean so much to us?”

Aofil’s eyebrows almost crash through the ceiling. “Because our souls are red?”

“in the same way that you’re alive just because of millions or so long strings of the easiest game of ‘match the shape’, yes. you might not feel the magic that your soul radiates, aof, but us monsters do.”

“Even you, Sans?”

“why else would i agree to all of this? i might’ve been a bit hesitant, but for some damn reason i still think we can do this.”

Before Aofil can list the many other reasons they´re more than glad to share, Sans puts up a hand to stop them. “look, aof, i’m not saying that we like you only because you have a red soul. what i’m saying is that we want to be near you because it fills us with hope. with you or frisk around the sun is shining, you know? like a nice summer breeze no matter the weather.”

“You are saying that you’re only around me because of my soul.”

Sans sighs, “heh,” and pinches the bridge of his would be nose, “in a sense i am. we probably wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for you, aof, and by that i mean the entire you, both your soul, and your mind. your magic, and your humanity. we could’ve been unlucky and met a red soul that had it all against us...”

Sans stops, looks at Aofil, and then down at the memory box. His smile freezes, and his eyes turns dark and empty. “is that what happened the first time around?”

Sans inhales sharply, and his pained grunt answers his own question. “yep, that is what happened.” He shakes his head sternly. “otherwise i wouldn’t feel that a knife cut my mind just now.”

Aofil’s feeling something building up as well.

“it’s all in the past, that never was.” Sans takes some calming breathes. “i’ll deal with it later.” It seems to work, and he exhales calmly. “alright, where was i?”

Aofil hazards a guess. “You were trying to make some sort of point?”

“ah,” with a quick snap of his fingers, Sans continues, “yes, your red soul, and with you being nice to us,” he adds quickly, “has done so much for us you can’t even believe. around it, around you, we monsters feel good, and because of that we’re more encouraged, and because of that we succeed with things we might’ve not done without you. yeah, we might’ve blown what you did out of proportions according to you, but to us. heh, the only reason you and frisk’s statue isn’t welcoming everyone into the city is because we couldn’t make them big enough. probably chara as well, if the dreemurrs had their way. considering that they're the royals, they probably would.”

Aofil tries to let that sink in, but the image of it…It's too much for them to swallow.

“whether or not,” Sans tilts his head towards Frisk’s body, “your twin would’ve also been there, my tinnitus started ringing when their name was brought up at the planning meeting.”

Sans throws up a very stern finger. “you, aof,” and bends it Aofil’s way, “you and your soul helped us with all of this.” He waves his finger all around the house. “you and frisk. we’ve escaped the underground, and managed to settle down on the surface, something that we for many many years thought were impossible. that is something we managed only with the help of your red hearts, both fleshy, and magical. we might’ve put you up on a pedestal without your permission, aof, but we did so because of the things you did.”

He moves his fingers to the side of his skull, “your actions,” and rolls up an imaginary ball of ear wax before shooting it away, “is what helped us. for what it’s worth, sorry that we paraded your name without your permission, but understand that we didn’t do it maliciously. we bought you a massive tub of ice cream, but we didn’t know you were lactose intolerant.”

“Got a hell of a brain freeze because of that, gotta tell ya.”

“water under the bridge?”

Not even close.

“No,” Aofil hangs on the word, as it is heavier than stone.

“heh, see what your hope made me ask? get started now before we wisen up.”

A click is heard as Aofil moves the box closer to their chest. They hesitate, but Sans waves for them to continue. Despite Aofil’s better judgment, they continue. As the box creeps closer, Aofil starts to feel a bit more…

Hollow?

Drained?

Used?

They can’t really put their finger on it, but something is definitely happening. Something is ha-

“shove it.”

Aofil’s vision twists and turns, as if it’s being siphoned away.

“shove it!”

Sans throws his fist against Aofil’s elbow, and it extends out. In the same moment the box hits Frisk’s chest, the feeling fades away from Aofil. They blink in half a panic.

“keep it steady,” Sans maintains his push on Aofil’s elbow, “and put it down as close as you can to the kiddo.”

Aofil places the box just next to Frisk’s chest. They bend in Frisk’s arm to hold the box, and then lean back.

“That was,” Aofil blows their lips, “horribly unpleasant.”

“we’ll see in a bit if it works.”

Again Frisk’s pocket vibrates.

“and in the meantime,” Sans makes a small hook with his finger, and pulls out Frisk’s phone, “you can make it up to the royals.”

Aofil pushes away the ringing phone hovering in front of their face while being careful not to see who the caller is. “I still have the memories, Sans.”

“oh yeah,” Sans brings the phone to him, “right. then how about some tea? there are bags and a kettle in the kitchen which is out of audible distance.” He waves the phone playfully. “if you catch my totally tangential point which has nothing to do with this.”

“I getcha, I getcha,” Aofil stands up, and follows Sans’ outstretched finger towards the kitchen.

“a bit of sugar in mine, please.”

“Two spoons?”

“if you insist.”

Aofil turns their wrinkled brow around, but Sans quickly answer the phone. “ello, ello?”

Aofil ducks in through the kitchen door, and closes it quickly behind them. Their angry mumbling serves two purposes. One, it keeps them from punching a hole in the wall. Two, it lessens the chance of any rogue word slipping inside their head.

Screaming would be preferable, but right now Aofil can’t muster up one.

Sans’ kettle whistles a tune different from Aofil’s despite looking very much alike. Is it because of the tea? Doesn’t seem to be Golden Flower. Either way, Aofil pours a cup for them, and one for Sans.

Aofil deserves something today, so no sugar for Sans.

They catch Sans’s attention through the glass pane in the door, and he nods that it is safe for Aofil.

“yeah, aofil just finished the tea, so why don’t you all come over?”

He…

With a flick Sans disconnects the call. “i hope you put in some extra sugar to offset your sour frown.”


	94. Sleep on it

"What in the actual fuck did you just do, Sans!”

Sans removes Aofil’s cup from the tray as well as his own. "you and i can't finish an entire kettle of tea by ourselves. i don't like wasting, so i thought why not. after all that has happened today i’m sure they’ll appreciate a cup just like you."

"You invited the freaking Dreemurrs, Sans!”

“it doesn’t hurt you saying their names?”

Sans made the right choice in removing Aofil’s cup. They throw their hands up, sending the tray flying across the room. “It’s gonna hurt way more actually seeing them, Sans!”

Sans catches the tray with his magic, and moves it back to the table next to him. “you sound a bit upset.”

“I’m goddamn livid, Sans!”

“really don’t have to end every sentence with my name, aof. i’m right here.” Sans taps a finger on his cup. “determination is good though, so keep on being livid.”

“What if the memory box doesn’t work? And then Chara wakes up to them coming in!” Aofil grabs their head. “Asriel will probably find out almost instantly...If Chara could feel his soul inside mine, then there’s no doubt Asriel can feel theirs now that they’re in control of Frisk.”

Aofil’s eyes almost fall out of their skull as they drag their hands down their face, tugging their skin in the process. The sound of a careful sip perks their ears, as Sans takes another careful sample of his tea. His face scrunches up, almost mimicking Aofil’s. Even despite the complete lack of flexible skin Sans wrinkles go deep. He places down the teacup, and vanishes. The table vibrates quietly as the gust of Sans’ shortcut sweeps its legs.

"let's hope the memory box works then,” Sans shouts from the kitchen. Aofil hears a cupboard opening and closing, and less than a second after Sans is back in his chair, followed shortly by another huff of wind, “and if it doesn't, then might as well pull the wool away directly instead of having them figure it out by their own."

He adds four spoons of sugar to his tea before nodding that it is good now.

“put the cards on the table before someone tries to build a house out of them.”

Aofil lands hard in their chair. “And then what about me?”

With a small motion of two of his fingers, Sans sends Aofil’s cup over to them along with the sugar. “if the box works then you’ll have an excellent time to talk everything out with them. pretty sure we can make that isolated from whether the kiddo wakes up or not, and which kiddo it is. if the box doesn’t work out for you, well, then you have a real reason to say that you have to stay away. a win win situation, if you ask me.”

Sans takes a long drink of his tea. When he’s done, he exhales calmly, letting the warmth of it wash over him. “i’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Sure…

“like hell that i’m gonna miss all of this going down.”

And there we have it.

“you think we can record it all in the memory box?”

“Sans!” Aofil presses their fingers against their templates. “Words cannot describe how much I want to hit you right now.”

“good, then you’ll shut up about it.”

“I-”

“and keep focus on what’s important,” Sans interrupts. He takes another sip of tea before motioning with a quick tilt of his head towards the front door. “the front door is there, aof, it has always been there. you haven’t glanced at it once, both figuratively, and literally, since you got here. if you want to leave, then leave. go home and live your life without us. it’s been great seeing you, despite everything. i wish you luck in your future.”

Aofil doesn’t stand up instantly, and that speaks more than enough for Sans. “the only reason you’d ever want to subject yourself to any of this is because you want to stay, aof. some small part of you want to stay. you wanna guess which?”

Aofil doesn’t.

Sans puts his finger on where it is regardless. “your soul. it’s like that physics example you’re so fond of using. for every action, there’s an opposite and equal reaction. your soul made us all stronger, and in return, you felt stronger as well. the aofil we met...” Sans returns his finger to his skull, scratching it lightly. “what would it be? second time? yes, the aofil we met the second time is not the aofil that’s sitting here in front of me. ignoring the resets, which we should to begin with, you’ve come a long way, aof. you are the hope of the surface, and you should be proud of it.”

“I’ll be proud of it once it stops hurting me to be it, Sans.”

“good, then you’ll talk it out with the royals, right?”

Aofil’s head sinks down into their hand. Heavy as can be, they shake it with great effort.

Why aren’t they walking out that door?

Aofil looks over to Frisk’s body. Their face is wrinkled, making them look almost as old as Aofil. Well, not with as many wrinkles, that is. How can Frisk stand all of this? Give up their own body just on the off chance that Aofil would stay? Hope must be a synonym to wishful thinking. Borderline crazy, even. Same can be said for Aofil, since they’re still not bolting for that door.

What is the reason?

Curiosity? About what happened during that first reset? Chara said that Aofil was at the forefront and-

Aofil’s head is shot throughout by a sharp and rapid bolt of pain. They close their eyes and let out a small grunt. Sans moves Aofil’s cup closer to them.

"i know how much you like your thinking, aof, but maybe not now? and maybe not about this?"

Aofil gives their tea a small sip, and their tongue twists in confusion. Their face does the same, and Sans moves the sugar closer. Aofil adds two spoons before it’s fine enough to swallow, and stay down.

Hopefully.

Aofil brow furrows. There’s that word again.

Hopefully.

Wild guesses, shots in the dark that would make even the most decorated marksman impressed, going out on limbs like a novelty circus act, and always, always, with nothing but a vague promise that

Hopefully

They will succeed.

Hopefully

They will rescue Asr-

They will rescue that prince.

Hopefully

It will be enough to shake some sense into memories that haunted the monsters.

And hopefully

Aofil will come back…

Aofil glances over to Sans, who smiles with a shrug, before returning to their teacup. They miss the lip on the ceramic with their own, and a couple of drops run down their chin.

Aofil dries it off with their free arm. The brown liquid stains the white fur. Sans is quick to offer a napkin, and Aofil takes one with a quick. “Thanks.”

Their arm, their fur. Is it really their fur? Aofil’s fur was the reason they had to leave, that they had to hide it, and themselves, from everyone else. Their curse blossoming, it was because of their fur. All their hate, all their anxiety, their misery, it was because they were cursed. Cursed because they stuck their neck out for the monsters. Sticking their neck out for the monsters because…

Because they killed them?

Was it because Aofil felt indebted to the monsters? But if so, why wasn’t bringing Asriel back enough to pay that debt back? Was Aofil’s fur the interest to that debt?

Was the scene in the basement with Alphys the last payment then? Not to the monsters, but to Aofil themselves. Hard as it is for Aofil to admit, but the monsters never really asked for anything. They praised Aofil, thought about building a statue of them. If anything they felt like they owed Aofil something. So who did Aofil need to pay back to?

Themselves?

“Sans?”

“yes?” he answers without opening an eye.

“Can you turn my soul blue?”

The question is enough for him to slightly open one eye. “yes. follow up, why?”

“I need to test something.”

“don’t really think you should have any more magic inside of you now that you’ve interacted with the memory box, especially when we ripped it away like that. for all we know, your soul might be wide open, and me applying my magic could result in a horrible amount of things going wrong. you might even absorb my own magic, who knows? and if you know my magic, then i’ll be out of a job.”

“...I suppose.”

“if i were you, i’d enjoy the quiet. if you want i can put a pillow in front of the kiddo if they’re distracting you.”

“It’s fine.”

Sans closes his eye again, and sinks down into his chair. He ends up with his back on the seat, and his head pressed against the backrest. No way that it’d be comfortable for Aofil. Not that Sans would care about that.

He is right about the quiet though. This past week has been loud. So many things have happened. Aofil’s barely gotten a moment to catch their breath. Now that they have one, maybe they can finally let things sink in.

Like again, the fact that they haven’t left through the door.

Too bad that Sans refused to use his magic on Aofil. For good reasons though, Aofil agrees, maybe not the latter reasons, but the first ones were plenty enough. They need to test how they feel while exposed to magic now though. Test if their curse is real, or just one of their own making. Now that they’ve talked to Chara, it feels a bit strange putting the blame on them, if just tangentially. Perhaps Aofil was wrong about the monsters seeing them as Chara’s twin, Chara’s replacement? For as much as Chara was down in the Underground with the monsters, they sounded very human.

So did the monster too, come to think of it.

It won’t change what the curse has done though. All the damage is real, too freaking real. It might help Aofil accept it if they stop thinking of it as a curse. Might help them put it all behind them.

But…

All that talk about being a hero, being the hope of the Surface, that’s too much, regardless if their curse is real or not.

Is it because the monsters felt indebted to Aofil?

Must be, why else would they even consider making a damn statue out of them! Aofil doesn’t want a statue.

Maybe for another reason, but not this reason. Not because of what they did, even though what they did is worthy of it. They’ve burned that bridge by not involving Aofil in the discussion. Even if Aofil did cross over the bridge to the other side alone and refusing to bring them along, they shouldn’t have done that.

Aofil foresees the monsters using the same argument towards them. Shouldn’t have left, shouldn’t have gone away without talking. Aofil made their bed, and they’ve been tossing and turning in it ever since.

Maybe it was wrong now, but it felt right then. Maybe they ran away, but what else could they do? It was so tiring, all they did. It hurt, it was too much! It was-

“aof.”

“What!”

“exhale.” Sans lifts a calm finger. He points it to Aofil’s cup. “it’s about to break. exhale.”

Aofil looks down. Both their hands are clenching the cup. Clenching hard, as hard as they can. Their teeth are gritted too, also almost to the breaking point.

Aofil exhales, feeling every fiber of their being relax. They take a long breath, and exhale again. They drink some tea. The warm liquid spreads out from their core, out to their limbs. To their fingers, to their head, to their cheeks.

Their cheeks…

Aofil touches their right one carefully.

Warm.

Not burning hot, just warm, like the rest of their skin. Just the same. Come to think of it, they can’t really remember their cheek stinging ever since that ordeal with Mettaton.

Aofil scoffs.

Guess that explains it then.

“that’s not something i thought i’d see in a long while.”

Aofil shifts their eyes over to Sans, who peeks one eye open. “What?”

“you smiling.”

Aofil coughs up a small chuckle, and shakes their head. “I’m flattered, Sans, but I don’t think you and I will work together.”

Sans isn’t hurt by that. Not visibly, that is. “your loss.” He reaches over for his tea. “but in all seriousness, why the smile? did you think of a joke? share please if you did. humor comes from the soul, so your human humor must be better than mine, right? don’t actually answer that.”

“Nah, it’s just,” Aofil swirls the liquid around inside their cup, “I did some thinking, that’s all.”

“i see,” with a quick glance over to Frisk, Sans allows himself another swig of tea as he confirms that they’re still fine. “thinking is good. i know i just said that it was bad, but hear me out. i wished you did it before you left us, but hey, better late than never.”

“Yeah, sure.”

For some reason Aofil’s tea tastes a bit sourer now.

They don’t get a lot of time to lament it though, as Frisk’s body jerks awake with a vicious jolt. Their eyes shoot wide open in a blank stare, and a razor sharp gasp sucks almost all the air out of the room.

With a brow lowered in half worry, half preparedness, Sans nods for Aofil to follow him. Carefully they walk up to Frisk’s body. The blank stare doesn’t react to the two of them closing in, and Sans’ brow furrows even harder. He motions for Aofil to put a hand on Frisk, carefully.

Aofil feels the abnormal breathing underneath the blue and pink striped sweater. Frisk’s torso is expanding and contrasting at an alarming pace. It’s fast, and unrhytmical.

Is this gonna happen to Aofil as well?

“Frisk? Are you there?” they ask solemnly. They give Frisk’s shoulder a careful shake.

Frisk’s eyes blink, and their pupils start to move. First up to Aofil, and then to Sans.

As the two lock eyes, another dark aura is summoned. Sans takes a step back, his pupils vanishing in an instant.

“Sans!” Aofil yells, but it has no effect.

Sans shortcuts away.

He returns a moment afterwards with a bucket in his hand. He shoves it underneath Frisk’s head. “not on the carpet, kiddo!”

A vicious sounding heave later Frisk rips the bucket out of Sans’ hands, and force their head into it. Aofil’s face can do nothing but tense up in disgust as Frisk discharges heave after heave into the metal container. It’s not long before Sans shortcuts away a second time, returning with as many buckets as he can carry. He dumps them in front of Frisk, catches his breath, and shortcuts away again to fetch more.

Aofil can only guess as to why Sans has so many. Their thoughts are interrupted by Frisk moaning as they move over to a less filled bucket.

Five buckets later, Frisk finally looks up. Their face is pale, drained.

“You alr-”

Another bucket is filled.

Another half later, or roughly half, Aofil’s not really keen to make an accurate measurement, Aofil puts their hand on Frisk’s back. “You alright, Frisk?” they try again.

Weak nod. A good sign.

“You you again?”

Another weak nod.

“What about Chara?”

Weak-

A seventh bucket is filled.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Exhausted thumb up.

“I’ll fetch the water since you can’t smell this,” Aofil says to Sans before he can shortcut away. “Pretty sure you’d want to open a window, by the way.”

“because of our other guests? as if i could forget, and as you should, aof. the old ones, that is,” he tells Aofil’s back. “not the old as in year, but as in reset!” he clarifies just as Aofil’s about to close the kitchen door behind them.

Once inside the kitchen, Aofil opens the kitchen window as they arrive at the faucet. They fill a nearby pitcher with water they catch a whiff of the smell from the living room. They drink the water they’ve poured so far as a preemptive measure since despite the two digit number of buckets Sans fetched might not be enough for Frisk.

Once Aofil returns they find Frisk leaning back in the sofa with their mouth wide open. An exhausted grunt is the only thing exiting their mouth at the moment. They sound like a dying lawnmower.

“you sure you’re you?” Sans asks after returning from a shortcut. The lack of buckets in front of Frisk is a bit worrying, but the smell doesn’t seem to have set in yet. No way Aofil is cleaning up if Frisk vomits again, but they’re not gonna ask Sans to fetch back a few. It’s his gamble on removing them.

Frisk tiredly moves their eyes over to Aofil. Sans follows them, and after a second or so of them both looking at Aofil, they get the hint. They hand the pitcher over to Sans. “How far away do I need to be?”

“The kitchen?” Aofil asks Frisk directly.

Weak shake.

“Outside the kitchen?”

Weak nod.

“Alright then. Come get me when you two are done talking,” Aofil says to Sans. He winks as he puts his hand on Aofil.

A moment later they’re out at the backyard.

A moment after Aofil’s alone, with a small wind from Sans’ solo shortcut brushing against their leg. Aofil looks around for something to sit on. They find a folded sun chair propped up against the wall and flick it open. The plastic net composing the chair has a picture of Mettaton with his arms outstretched stitched in it. Aofil sits carefully down.

You never know with these monsters.

“Hey...”

Aofil looks over to their side.

“How are y-”

Immediately after they clutch their head with a groan. “Dammit!”

Undyne’s already sad smile melts quietly, and she pushes herself up from her side of the fence with a pained sigh. Aofil looks over again, but as they also spot Alphys gripping the door frame a bit further away, another wave of hurt floods throughout their skull like a tsunami wave.

They hear some subdued talking before the backdoor is closed on Alphys and Undyne’s house. Aofil bends over to better grip their head, but it still takes a full minute for the pain to even start to relax. They’re forced to wipe away a fair amount of sweat from their forehead.

“God fucking dammit,” they sigh.

Where is Sans? How long are the two of them gonna talk?

Sans doesn’t arrive for another couple of minutes, and when he does, his tired exhale competes with the wind his shortcut produces.

“kiddo’s asleep.”

He keeps staring out over the horizon with his hands in his pockets.

“Good?” Aofil asks, trying to get his attention.

“yup.”

Still staring.

“So, what did you two talk about? Is it Frisk that’s there?”

“yes, it’s frisk. a very tired and exhausted frisk, but still frisk. probably not gonna get proper sleep for a while after this, but that’s on them. might be a bit harsh, but at least they’ve learned not to do it again.”

“You think so?”

“no, but i’m gonna tell myself so. i’ve got plenty that i’m gonna take away from today already, so whatever i can tell myself not to, the better it’s gonna be for my shoulders to carry.”

The setting sun doesn’t seem to bother Sans. He keeps staring almost directly into it.

“Did they hear anything while they were gone?”

“everything, or so they told me.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

“does it bother you that they do?”

“I don’t know, to be honest.” Aofil crosses their arms and sinks down into Mettaton’s embroiled embrace. “For now I’m just glad that they’re back.”

“you’re not bummed out that chara is gone?”

“Can’t tell right now.”

The open window is gently knocked on, and Sans turns his head around. He gestures with two fingers outstretched. Aofil can just barely hear the kitchen door closing.

“Who was that?”

“can’t tell.”

“Sans...”

“because then your head would hurt. i can tell you what it was that knocked on the window though. a claw.”

Aofil’s eyes widen, and they lean up towards the window. “They’re here? Already?”

“toriel’s pretty angry at me for not opening right away. almost knocked the door off its hinges. couldn’t let her hear what frisk had to say though, on their request, mind you. i only opened once they began to walk around the house.” Sans reaches into his pocket. “told them you were out here sleeping and that i’d try and wake you. they will find you fast asleep though should they poke their head out here.”

Aofil’s eyes snap towards Sans’ pocket.

“i’ll distract them for as long as possible, but you gotta have to do it right now, aof.”

Sans throws the memory box over to Aofil. It lands on their chest.

“i’ll check on you whenever i can, but you have to dive in alone. sorry.”

The window hits the wall behind Aofil as the wind from Sans’ shortcut pushes it.

Aofil puts their hand on the box, but as they do so, the world around them starts closing in. The bright and orange glow of the sunset becomes brighter. Warmer as well.

Not as warm as yesterday, but still, it’s a pretty nice day. Aofil regrets not putting on those over sized sunglasses as the midday sun blasts against their face and eyes. It’s been a while since they actually just sat back and enjoyed the day. They don’t know why, but these last few days they’ve felt like they have more energy somehow. Aofil squints while leaning over the side of their patio chair to fetch the newspaper.

The front page has a huge blurred picture of two large beings entering what seems to be the Town Hall.

Above it is a headline screaming in bold text

“Monsters are real!”

Huh...


	95. Starting off on the other foot

"Why is-"

The iron gate squeaks as it's opened.

Aofil walks with a perplexed look across the gravel path. Why is the pastor at their family grave? Is he about to spit on it or something? Why else would he be there?

The pastor tilts his head towards the sound of disturbed gravel. "Ah, Aofil. Welcome."

Aofil’s brow sinks further down. Pleasantries? From the pastor? Something is amiss here.

The pastor motions for the nearby bench. “Please, sit with me,” he invites with a warm smile.

Definitely amiss.

Aofil sits down next to the pastor, but not within arm’s reach. The pastor’s head is resting on his knuckles. His eyes are firmly fixed on the graves underneath the large aspen tree. Shadowy leafs dance on the grave as the wind picks up. The pastor folds his frock over his knees to stop it from blowing up. Aofil’s grateful for that. They’d rather he’d leave though before he starts convers-

“So, monsters exists.”

Oh well...

Aofil blows their lips in a sigh. “Yeah, they do.”

“And here I thought they were gone.”

“I mean, from what I’ve read they just came, and then went back. So maybe?”

The pastor scratches his chin while readjusting his back on the bench. “Did you perchance catch any glimpse of them?”

“Not in person, no.” Aofil leans back with their arms crossed.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Aofil looks over to the pastor with an expression furrowed in confusion. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I think I’d know if I saw one. One is a skeleton though, so chances are greater that you’ve seen them than me.”

Aofil regrets the joke as soon as it leaves their lips. The pastor isn’t amused, not in the slightest.

“I’ve just been reading about them in the newspaper.” Aofil looks down in shame.

The pastor hangs his eyes on Aofil, running them all across Aofil’s face. To no avail, apparently, since he too looks down directly afterward.

“It was front page the day after they apparently emerged,” Aofil continues to explain after a short moment. “It has been it for the week too, I guess. To be fair, you have to be blind not to accidentally read the enormous headlines when passing your front door every morning.”

“The free one?” the pastor asks with a hint of disappointment in his voice. He looks over to Aofil as if he’s accusing them of something.

“Yeah,” Aofil shrugs. “I don’t really have a reason to unsubscribe from it. Makes for good tinder and white noise in the morning.”

“Good tinder during summertime...” The pastor tugs a quick smile, as if he’s trying to recover from something. “Fair enough of a reason, I guess.”

“Do you have a point,” Aofil shifts their eyes over to the pastor, slowly narrowing them as their contempt builds up, “or are you just looking for an opportunity to curse my family again?”

The pastor’s smile fades, and he again bends forward with his elbows on his knees and his forehead on his knuckles. He takes an unsteady breath, and mutters a quiet prayer. Aofil’s never heard it before, something about colors, and the void. Not that they’re perfectly familiar with any and all prayers to begin with, but this one sounds weird...somehow.

“Curse,” the pastor mutters. “Curse...” He looks over to Aofil. “Can I ask of you something, Aofil?”

Aofil’s not gonna dignify that with an answer.

The pastor doesn’t wait for one either. “Make the monsters pay for what they did.”

The growl in the pastor’s voice causes Aofil to jerk back. They’ve never heard him with such anger, such hate. The pastor’s eyes are burning behind a dark veil that’s taken hold over his face. “Promise me, Aofil. For everything.”

“W-what did the monsters do?”

The pastor turns around so that his back is facing Aofil. He lifts up his frock, exposing three long and thick scars running the entire length of his back. Three, what looks to be, deep rends. Like three belts, as if the pastor is some kind of commando. They’re old scars though, no way could the monsters have done that. They’ve only been here for a week or so. Not even that since they left almost as quick as they came! How did it heal so quick?

“Is it, is it magic?” Aofil asks with eyes wide as can be. “W-when d-did the monsters do this? They’ve only been here for a few days, and your scars look old. How did it happen?”

The pastor carefully rolls his frock down over his back again. The extruding scar tissue can be seen through the fabric. For years Aofil thought it was some stuffing or something embedded in his frock. How, when, could the monsters have done it? The monsters haven’t been hostile. Hell, they haven’t been on the Surface long enough to be hostile. They visited the Town Hall once, and then retreated back towards the mountain. Aofil’s seen news vans drive by their house for a couple of days now, and if they strain their eyes, they can almost make out silhouettes of humans up on Mt. Ebott. How the journalists got the equipment up there is beyond Aofil. Unless they found the old passage. How they would do that is even more beyond Aofil, so they’re left to ponder.

Even with so many journalists up there word still hasn’t trickled down. No monster has even greeted them. So, how and when would they have attacked the pastor? If the free newspaper is to be believed, they’ve already attacked our way of living. Sure, the newspaper talks about them like the end times, but Aofil’s learned to read between the lines, and opposite the lines, with it. Ever since the newspaper published their family’s death as an accident, Aofil’s not had the heart to unsubscribe from it. They know it’s complete trash, but once in a blue moon it was actually right about something.

Perhaps it’s time for another blue moon…

“I’ll tell you more when the time is right, Aofil.”

Aofil just now notices that the pastor has stood up, and is bowing his head down. He turns on his heel before Aofil has time to stand up as well. “What do you mean with that? What happened to your back? Can’t you tell me now?”

“No,” the pastor looks over his shoulder, “just like how you don’t teach kindergartens advanced trigonometry before they learn basic arithmetic. I’m sure you can understand that analogy, Aofil. It all depends on how the monsters act these coming weeks. There’s already talk about something in the coming future that may or may not involve you, Aofil. My belief is that you absolutely will be, that there is no may or may not. That’s why I’m telling you now to be careful around these monsters. They’ve been imprisoned by us humans, and there is no telling how they’ll take revenge on us because of that. You’ve already had one close call with them, Aofil.”

They have?

“There is also the matter of those who I suspect have had even closer calls with the monsters. Your sibling, for instance.”

Aofil snaps their head towards the graves. Have they?

“Not those,” the pastor informs with a soft and careful tone, “Your other sibling, from your other family.”

“What!” Aofil shakes their head in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? My other family?”

“You don’t remember, which is for the better. I will share with you more details if, and when, the time comes. Know that it is because of the monsters that you don’t remember. Take some time to process what I’ve said, you are going to need it if you are to hear the rest. There is going to be a trial in the future, Aofil, and I want you on our side.”

“Whose side?”

“Humanity’s.”

“But-”

The pastor puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder, and they immediately tense up. It’s the same hand, on the same shoulder, that the pastor used to hold Aofil in place while he screamed in their face, while he cursed them out, while he pointed and scorned their parents. Now his hand feels warm, comforting, almost begging. His face is pleading too. Soft eyes filled with suppressed worry, and fear. The same fear the pastor had way back then, the sliver of humanity Aofil saw midst the rain, sweat, and words of hurt spewed from the mouth that is now smiling earnestly. It was hidden behind hate. Hate which is nowhere to be seen now. It’s comforting. How? Aofil doesn’t understand. They can only stare at the cheeks wrinkled from the smile.

A smile that’s fading into a frown filled with sorrow.

“Forgive me, Aofil. For all I’ve said.”

The pastor’s frown turns pained as he feels Aofil’s shoulders sink in confusion.

“The words I spoke about you, about your parents. For long I thought they had ties with the monsters. I thought that now that they’ve returned, that they would seek you out for sanctuary. That you...”

The pastor swallows hard to quell his throat from clogging up. Aofil can only stare, what is going on?

“Aofil, have you met the monsters?” the pastor asks again, tears building up in his eyes, tethering on falling. “Tell me the truth!”

“No, I haven’t,” Aofil answers again. “I’ve only read about them in the paper.”

The pastor needs a few moments for his newfound reality to sink in. It has caught up with him, and the pain clenches his hands. Aofil doesn’t feel him grasping their shoulders though, they’re too busy with trying to make sense of it all.

“Then I’ve let my wound cloud my judgment. My mind is scarred, just like my back. I thought I could leave that faithful day behind me, but still to this day the echoes still ring loud in my head, and pulsate on my back.”

The pastor looks over to the graves, but then averts himself quickly, as if he’s been blinded by the sight of the weathered stones. He inhales deeply, to collect himself. “Aofil,” he says with a voice shaking like the leafs on the overhanging aspen twig in the wind, “please forgive my words, and me.”

Just like that? Aofil can’t really produce an answer. It’s all so sudden, so wrapped up in all of the other things the pastor has said. So many strange things, and now he’s asking for forgiveness? Aofil can only stare blankly. Their mind can’t handle this right now. It’s-

“I understand.”

What?

The pastor nods. “I understand if you need time, Aofil. I’ve put a lot on your mind, but know that it is vital that you need to be eased into this. Otherwise you might...”

What?

“Otherwise you might do what I did, and blame humanity for the sins the monsters did.”

And with that, the pastor turns around, leaving Aofil standing in pure bewilderment. They can’t even reach over and ask the pastor what’s happening. Their body is too confused too move. Judging by the sobs, something heavy has been dug up. What does it have to do with Aofil though? And their family?

Once Aofil’s mind has settled on some form of temporary plateau, the pastor is already gone. Not many places he could go though, and if Aofil were to make an educated guess, he’d be inside his church.

Aofil has more pressing matters though, and they return their seat onto the bench.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” they ask their family after a quiet minute of solemn thinking.

The aspen shakes gently in the wind.

“Yeah, I’ve no idea either what he was on about. My other family? Am I adopted?”

The aspen calms down.

“You’d tell me if I was, right? You did it to sister, so why not me? I mean, where else would I’ve gotten these cheeks if it wasn’t from you, mom?”

A gentle scoff from Aofil clears their mind a bit. No way that they’re adopted. Never have they met someone else with cheeks like them, or their mom. That’s at least something cleared up.

“And my other sibling? What’s up with that? Did I have an older sibling that moved away?” Aofil leans forward. “Do I still have an older sibling? Are they...”

The wind is silent.

“Are they still alive? Why didn’t they attend the funeral then? Did something happen between you and them, mom? Dad? Both?”

Still silent.

“Surely, neither of you would let them just move away like that? Nothing that bad could’ve happened that neither of you two could talk them out of it? Are they just sulking in some far away city, not wanting to reconcile? Not even with their own family?”

A gust of wind blows a handful of leafs into Aofil’s face. They sigh as it passes by them, and pluck a leaf away from their left cheek by the stem. It kinda looks like a green heart.

“Yeah, sorry. I let my mind race a bit, didn’t I? Can you blame me though? After all that the pastor said.” Aofil spins the leaf between their thumb and index finger. “I can never get a read on him, you know? Even worse now than before. Me having a close call with the monsters? I didn’t even know they existed last week! Jeez. I’d think I’d remember if I ever saw one. Especially like one of those big goat looking monsters. That’s not something you forget. Close call too with one? Man, what is the pastor doing in that church? Drinking a bit too much holy water, or taking in the incense a bit too much.”

Aofil shakes their head while looking over to the old church at the end of the graveyard. “I mean, how many times did we travel up Ebott, and even to that cave where the monsters supposedly came out of? Never did we see anything. Just jagged rocks. Not even another human!”

The stem snaps in two from Aofil twisting it so much. It’s carried away with the wind, and Aofil flicks the stem left in their hand over their shoulder. “Except that gorgeous sunset. Maybe I should run up there. I felt like I wanted it the day the monsters came out, but I couldn’t find my running shoes. Found the pair the day after, but by then the monsters were already here, and...”

Aofil rubs their chin while breathing through their clenched teeth. “...I’m not really sure if I really want to meet them. I’m curious what they’re planning down there, but it feels kinda, suspicious? Are they hiding something? Like, a plan to kill us all. I don’t know. Am I being racist?”

A single twig vibrates gently.

“Why else would they stay down there? If it is their prison, then why wouldn’t they want to escape it? Is it the sun? Is it humans? No one knows, and the monsters are not coming up to answer any questions. Maybe they’re afraid of us? We did put them there to begin with. That was a long time ago though, and magic isn’t used anymore. Did we even know magic? Why would we stop using it then! Everything’s just so confusing.”

The sound of Aofil smacking their palm against their forehead echoes throughout the otherwise quiet graveyard. “And then the pastor said something about a trial, and me being involved because I had met the monsters before? I just-”

Aofil blows their lips tiredly.

“I don’t know.”

They lean forward with their hands crossed over their legs, and with their head resting on the cross section. “I wish you were still here. Like I always do. Not a day passes by without me thinking about you. I’ve tried to keep the house in good shape, but I don’t really have the money for it. The silence isn’t helping either. You know all of this though. What is it now, the tenth time I’ve talked about it? Perhaps when it becomes three digits it might feel a bit better, but until then? I hope I’m not bumming you out though. I’m still promising that if something new happens, then you’ll be the first to know.”

The aspen is disturbed by a powerful breeze.

“I have to let it sink in with me first. Still, sorry I didn’t tell you directly about the monsters. Maybe you felt their magic or something? I don’t know...”

Aofil's sigh competes with the heavy wind dragging itself across the graveyard. It flurries up the aspen. Not a single leaf is left silent, and the collective dance rings loud. More than a few leafs are shaken loose, and fall like enormous and colorful snowflakes, covering the graves, the gravel, and Aofil.

“I don’t know.”

The leafs slid of Aofil’s head, the few that remain are shaken off by Aofil running their hand through their hair.

They look up the mountain, but can’t make out if there’s people on the plateau or not. The angle is too steep for Aofil to distinguish if it’s humans or tops of trees. With the wind swaying the trees Aofil can’t even rely on motion to tell them apart.

Their stomach rumbles. They have ways to go back home, so they should probably get a move on before it starts hurting. With a silent grunt they stand up, and brush whatever leaf that might be sticking on them still.

“I need to get going home. I’m still alive, so that means I still have to eat.”

The clouds above part ways, letting the sun shine down on the looming mountain. Aofil smiles solemnly at it.

“I’ve always wondered if our house would be in the shadow of Ebott if we were on the other side. You know, where our summer home is? Where our summer house was, maybe. I wonder if it’s still standing. Ebott shook pretty violently just before the monsters emerged, so perhaps that shifted the fault underneath the village. Speaking of that, it must’ve been scary when the measurements came back, right? I was playing around there! The entire ground could’ve sunk underneath my child weight!”

Aofil scoffs. “You’re so irresponsible, mom, dad! Letting your children play on top of a fault line. Jeez.”

Aofil’s stomach rumbles again. It stings a bit.

“I’ll see you later then.”

The iron gate squeaks as it’s closed.


	96. Reflecting on remembering

"My other family..."

Aofil unlocks the lever holding the backrest of their sun chair up. They quickly bend forward to unhook it, and then let their weight push the backrest down to a more horizontal position. They lock it in place, and put their arm behind their head.

It’s a nice day today. The sun’s shining, but just enough that it’s warm, and not overbearingly hot. Aofil’s wearing the over sized sunglasses. For two reasons. First one being that they’re a pair of sunglasses, and that the sun is out. Secondly, the bottom of the rim hides their overgrown lawn behind purple plastic.

Aofil reaches over to the table next to them. They find their glass of water with a cucumber slice in it. It’s refreshing, and by golly do they need it now. Not really because of the heat, but because of their head. They need to figure out what to do with everything they’ve learned these past days, and it’s better to do it while quenched.

These past days of frantic searching on whatever official website they can find that has any form of tangential connection to what the pastor said. Now that they’re sitting here, thinking back on it all, they’re not really sure if they made the right choice.

The pastor told Aofil that there was a box, told Aofil of what was in the box, and Aofil opened the metaphorical box. Now they can’t close it, they can never close it. Even if this whole monster situation turns out to be a farce, Aofil will still know things they’re probably gonna wish that they never did. Their mind is now burdened. A ball and chain has clamped shut, and Aofil has to drag it around for the foreseeable future. If whatever this trial turns out to be true, and that Aofil’s gonna be involved in it, then people are gonna want to tug at the chain. Aofil’s already dreading that day. If they’re lucky it might just not happen at all. If they were lucky they wouldn’t have known of it in the first place.

And just two weeks ago their biggest worry was running out of noodles.

"My other family…" Aofil sighs heavily.

It's been a week or so since Aofil went to visit their family. It’s been a week since the monsters went from reserved curiosity, to being the only thing on Aofil’s mind. That is, if what the pastor said was true about them. He was truthful about Aofil’s family alright, but…

No, Aofil can’t cross that bridge yet. Skipping right to that will only make their family matter matter even worse!

Let’s try again.

It’s been a week since the pastor went, what Aofil could only describe back then as, crazy. They had no idea whether he told any form of truth or not when they walked home. Their rumbling stomach didn’t help them come to any conclusion. As they prepared some of their last noodles, they couldn’t stop his voice echoing around in their head. His words, and how little sense they made.

If everything the pastor said was true, then it would mean that Aofil knows absolutely nothing of what they thought they did. In the pastor’s words, Aofil didn’t even know basic arithmetic. They searched their house, but from what they’ve found, or to be more specific, not found, nothing he said was true. They should’ve just left it very much alone at that point. The fact that they didn’t find anything directly, and that they had to actively search, and despite that, they couldn’t find anything.

That fact alone should’ve been enough for Aofil to declare that this is way too large for them. Too big for Aofil to ever handle properly if dug up.

Yet somehow, Aofil felt that they hadn’t looked enough. Something deep inside them still said that there were more to this story, that the pastor was indeed telling Aofil the truth. The thought didn’t strike them even tangentially once they got to searching. Something was encouraging them from within.

It didn’t feel good though, almost like a subtle form of nausea. The voice inside Aofil was so distant, so faint. Almost as it was someone else. It didn’t feel as someone else though, it felt like Aofil’s own thoughts, just not in their head. Luckily the nausea was just as faint, but it was there. Both of them were there, even though they felt like a sigh inside a hurricane.

It hasn’t gone away, even after the things Aofil’s learned. Same thing with the energy they’ve felt ever since the monsters appeared. Aofil’s been doing stuff. Actual stuff. Progress. Bought food other than noodles. Food that’s taken effort to make. They’ve went through and researched what the pastor said, instead of shrugging it off like they did before. They went to visit their family. Previously they’ve dreaded to even imagine walking over there, but last week they just went. Aofil put on their shoes, and just went. They still dreaded meeting their family, but not in the same way. As if their family would be disappointed in them. Aofil thought about themselves, reflected on what they’ve done. Not done, to again be specific.

They even thought about running!

And they put slices of cucumber in their water that they’re again drinking!

What is going on?

It tastes great! Aofil appreciates it! They should do it all the time!

With an exhale that’s halfway between a sigh and a raspberry, Aofil puts down the glass on the table again. Their sunglasses almost slip off their face as they shake their head at it all.

Is it a coincidence that Aofil actually started doing things the day the monsters arrived? Or it is something else? Is it the monsters’ doing? Is it magic?

Aofil closes their eyes, and sink down into their sun chair. Maybe they should try asking that faint feeling inside them. If it had answers for their family, maybe it has answers about the monsters?

…

…

What is Aofil doing? Asking a small voice inside them for advice? For help in sorting out their mind? Asking voices inside themselves is the complete opposite of that! What? Are they crazy? Talking with their dead family crazy?

Aofil rubs their templates. Apparently they are. No idea trying to get an answer now though, they’ve made themselves aware of how stupid this whole ordeal is, so trying to focus now would be futile.

It’s like when one becomes aware of one’s own nose in their field of vision. Time just have to pass before one forgets that it’s there again.

Aofil sighs irritably. What would that voice inside them be even? Their gut feeling? Their soul? The spirits of their dead family?

The more Aofil looks, the deeper the hole is, apparently. Every time they thought that it couldn’t be any worse, Aofil looked a bit more and yup, it got worse. From their family, all the way to that name.

That name…

A name that Aofil can’t remember ever knowing, despite them wrapping their head around it like an over eagerly made Christmas present. Still, nothing. Aofil lets the name bounce around in their head again, but no, nothing. Nothing that rings a bell.

Aofil swallows some more water. They fish out the slice of cucumber with their tongue as well, and fold it with the back of their teeth. They wonder if they should put a couple of slices on their eyes to alleviate their tiredness. They haven’t gotten a single good night’s rest the entire week. Too many loud thoughts keeping them awake. Questions about, well, everything. What does it all mean? How does it connect to the monsters? Why Aofil? Why now? Why not a couple of years ago? Why not a couple of years in the future?

The question that rings loudest though, the one that has Aofil uncomfortable in their own house. The question that gave answers, but not the answers Aofil wanted. A dozen lesser questions answered, but another huge one has replaced them. Many drops make an ocean. Aofil could live with the drops though. Now they’re alone, bobbing nervously up and down amid a vast open ocean. Dark water all around them, stretching like the infinite underneath them, and no land in sight. They have to be careful not to drown, not let the question overtake them.

Why doesn’t Aofil remember?

It wasn’t even what Aofil set out to search, yet they still found it.

The morning after the pastor talked to Aofil, the morning after a restless night, where Aofil first started to feel that distant voice inside them. The quiet around them was enough for them to hear it. Hear how it wandered back in forth, trying to make sense of it all. It was conflicted, still is conflicted. More so than before? That Aofil can’t tell. All they know is that it kept them up, kept them from sleeping. The words of the pastor echoing through their mind didn’t help the situation.

Be it because of their sleepiness messing with their thoughts, or be it their curiosity washing over them. If Aofil were to guess, it was probably both. Really, asking why isn’t what led them to finding out, it was asking how.

Aofil started searching around the house. They went through everything they can think of, folders, papers, phone numbers, yet they found nothing. No evidence of them having another family. There were no adoption papers, at least, not for Aofil though. Their brother and sister’s were neatly ordered in their parent’s office. Everything was on the documents. Birthday, reason for abandonment, name, health records.

Links to the government’s website along with credentials to access the online portal.

Aofil remember how strange the paper started to feel in their hands after they read through those adoption documents. Anxiety flushed over them, and that nausea started manifesting. Almost like the papers were laden with poison. Aofil wasted no time though, and quickly rushed over to their computer.

The credentials were still accepted, albeit after a couple of days waiting for a security code to be delivered to their home. The worst waiting Aofil’s ever had. Will ever have, probably. With the code in hand though they were granted access. It felt strange seeing that green verification mark, and the myriad of links along with their dad’s name being greeted in the top left corner.

Their hand hesitated. Aofil can’t really put their finger on why, but for some reason, they dreaded what lurked behind those links present.

Almost as if they already knew what they would see.

Aofil searched their own name, and to their delight, it showed their birth certificate. Their mother’s name, and signature, along with their father’s name, and signature. Barely readable, but that only confirmed it more for Aofil.

The parents that Aofil buried are their own, no doubt about it.

For some reason that didn’t make Aofil any happier. Not in the slightest. Couple that with the fact that they could still use their late parents’ credentials to look up their deaths…

Aofil had to walk away for a bit. Walk over to the bathroom, and splash some cold water in their face. And some more. And some more.

They held their hands up to their face the last time, could it be five or six. Aofil didn’t count, they were too busy to. Their hands hid their reflection in the sink mirror from themselves. Their tears mixed with the water, diluting the salt as it reached Aofil’s lips. They could still taste it though.

It took some time for them to remind themselves that they had to keep searching. If they’d known fully what they’d find they’d taken a lot longer to prepare, and even then, that wouldn’t have been enough.

As Aofil returned to their birth certificate, they noticed something. Above their birth certificate was a number.

A number that wasn’t one.

An arrow in the lower left hand corner of the website brought them to another certificate. The first one. Of a sibling born before Aofil. A couple of minutes, in fact. The same sloppy handwriting from their father above his name. The same for their mother. The same hospital, the same room, the same doctor, and the same midwife.

Above all of those was the largest name.

The name of their parents’ firstborn, who came before Aofil.

The name of Aofil’s twin.

Chara.

Just the thought of it makes Aofil feel ill all over. The fact that it’s actually real…

Aofil tries to quell their nausea with some more water.

They have a twin.

Had a twin.

Chara was reported missing years ago, according to the government’s website. Presumed dead. No body recovered. Not a sign after Aofil’s parents reported Chara gone. Aofil has a dead twin they know nothing about.

What the actual fuck?

They had a twin for years, but they can’t remember anything. No face, no voice, not even the name. It’s just blank. For Aofil, seeing that birth certificate was the first time they saw that name. A stranger that Aofil’s never heard of. Apparently they’re twins though.

Surprise, surprise!

If there’s the thinnest of silver linings though is that Aofil now understands why the wall separating two of the upstairs bedroom have the thinnest of walls. Must’ve been one big room to begin with.

A silver lining is pretty hard to distinguish if the entire sky is covered in black clouds though. Vicious, bellowing clouds indicating that a storm is coming. A storm Aofil’s never seen before. Now they have to face it with an umbrella that turned out to be a broken one made out of nothing. No grasp to be had, not on what Aofil thought they could stay dry with. Rainy days ahead.

Aofil sighs until their lungs start to burn in pain.

Rainy days ahead.

So why can’t Aofil remember? Who is Chara? Why can’t they remember Chara? Aofil tries to run through their entire childhood, but there is no twin with them. Only Aofil. Aofil was the only child. Until their sister and brother were adopted, that is. That wasn’t until later though. The date of Chara’s disappearance wasn’t when they were a baby. They were a child, almost a grown child at that.

Still nothing. Still no voice to associate with the name. Still no face to associate with the voice.

Aofil turns their head around in the sun chair. They catch their reflection in the dirty kitchen window.

They were twins, so...

“Greetings, I’m Chara!”

Nope, still nothing. Why Aofil thought that looking at an adult would somehow summon a child’s face they can’t really tell. What’s the odds that Chara would look the same as Aofil though? If they were identical, yes, but what if Chara wasn’t even the same sex as Aofil? What if Chara looked more like their dad instead of their mom? What if-

As Aofil turns their head back they think themselves see a yellow flower move, but it was only the wind. They sink back down into their chair.

So much is on their mind, it feels like it’s gonna explode. Would probably take out the entire neighborhood if it did. People would wonder if Ebott shook again, only to find crumbled houses with a crater at Aofil’s.

Would it be called Crater Ebott?

Now Aofil’s head is hurting even more…

Crater Ebott at their normal house, Ebott Fault at their summer home.

Their summer home…

Aofil flies out of their chair. The sunglasses slid off in the hasty jump, and bounce against the hard tiled floor of the patio. They don’t break, but the glass takes some pretty nasty scratches. The water in their hand splashes all over Aofil, but the fact doesn’t reach their head. It’s too clogged with the thought that suddenly rushed them.

Their summer home! It was abandoned after Chara disappeared? Maybe there’s some stuff there about them? Their parents didn’t really bring a lot from it when they abandoned it. Should be loads of stuff still there. perhaps even something about Chara. Aofil’s parents owned it before they, and Chara, were born, so they had to have visited there at least once. If Aofil’s memory serves them correctly, that is. These last few days have proven that to be quite the opposite though.

Dammit.

Can they even believe anything they thought about their childhood? Was there even a summer home? Was there a fault line underneath, threatening to split open and swallow the community whole? Was it there Chara disappeared?

The nausea inside Aofil grows.

That means that they’re on the right path? Yes, it has to be! They felt it when they saw Chara’s name for the first time, so their summer home making them feel nauseous too must mean that the two are connected.

Aofil nods to themselves.

They have to do this!

They don’t even bother folding up their sun chair back again, this is way too important for the first step to be folding back the sun chair.

No, the first step is getting up to the attic. The key has to be there somewhere. It’s where their parents put whatever handful of things they brought with them, so it has to be there. It’s not in the office, the wall mounted key box next to the door, nor in the basement.

All signs point upwards.

And the dust collected during the year of absences fall downwards onto Aofil as they open the hatch leading to the attic. They cough out as much as they can, and afterwards they pull their chirt up over their mouth. It might not help much, but it’s something.

The attic is dark. They should’ve brought a flashlight, come to think of it. The ones they have don’t have any batteries though, so that might’ve been good to have thought of before.

Oh well.

With their hands in front of them, Aofil stumbles through the rubble of boxes and bags. None catches their eye though. All are things they’ve carried up there.

They have to go deeper. Deeper mean older, right?

Wait, what’s this? A chest? A wooden chest?

Aofil doesn’t recall anything about an old wooden chest. It has their name written in felt pen though. They didn’t write it though.

If they don’t remember anything about it...perhaps…

The floor underneath the chest creaks loudly as Aofil drags it closer to them. It opens easily after Aofil undoes the locks on each side with a satisfying clunking sound. Inside appears some toys, old dolls, striped shirts and sweaters. A jeweled case lies buried underneath a couple of stuffed animals.

Inside the case is a mirror. Seems to be a bit stained. No keys though. Aofil puts the case back, and to the side, and keeps on digging.

At the bottom is another metallic case. Small, like a match box. Sounds like a match box too when Aofil shakes it. They flip the lid open, and close their fist in joy and eagerness.

Keys.

There’s even a plastic tag attached to the key ring, and it says ‘Summer Home’.

Even better.

In their eagerness, Aofil closes the lid down a bit too quickly. Dust spews up like a volcano, and they start coughing, which causes even more dust to whirl up around them, which causes them to cough more and-

They gotta get out of there!

With the key ring clutched in their hand, Aofil starts inching their way back. Their hand comes dangerously close to scraping up splinters from the untreated floor, but to their luck their skin remains intact all the way back down the stairs leading down.

Aofil quickly yet carefully, as to not cause more spillage of dust than is absolutely necessary, tiptoes into the bathroom. There they try and shake off all the dust off them. They manage to get most of it off, but taking a shower would be futile now. They’re about to head to their abandoned summer home, so ruining another set of clothing is just wasteful. It’s not like anyone will see them covered in dust and think that they’re a murderer or something.

Aofil washes the dust on the floor away with the shower, and then heads down to the kitchen. They fill a water bottle, and fetch some easy to eat biscuits from the overhead cupboard. Their old schoolbag seems to be intact enough to survive the trek around the mountain, and Aofil fills it with the water and biscuits before throwing it over their shoulder. Running shoes on in the hallway, and then they open their front door.

Looks to be cloudy in a bit, but that’s alright with Aofil. Less sun to sting their eyes. They lock the door behind them, and head off to Mt. Ebott.


	97. A past experienced

"Wow..."

Disrepair is a word very well used to described what Aofil's seeing, and that’s just what they can spot from inside the forest leading up to the village from Mt Ebott. It’s not far now, just a couple more minutes of walking left. Aofil takes out another biscuit out of the package to eat.

As they emerge from the tree line they finally get a good view of the actual state their summer home community is in. The half eaten biscuit falls out of their mouth hanging open in stunned disbelief.

"Wow!"

Derelict is a better words to describe the state their old summer home community is in. Despite the shadow of Mt Ebott laying thick like a horizontal drape, Aofil can still make out every detail of the houses that have stood abandoned for God knows how long. Well, Aofil knows for how long. A good estimate, at least. That it’s fallen this much into rot and dishevel seems a bit odd though. Like, a couple of decades more of decay is at display before them. How is that even possible? It’s almost more overgrown than the forest they just exited, and that has stood for forever. Almost.

Twisted vines climb desperately up the walls of the worn houses, as if to get away from the muddled ground drained of both color and life. It’s not gravel covering the ground. Rather, it looks like wilted...everything. Grass, flowers, even the rocks to a degree. Like every ounce of life has been sapped away, or sucked into a vacuum, or something. Aofil’s baffled by it all, they’ve never seen something like this before. To think that they once lived here…

Is it because of the gas pockets around the fault line? Aofil remembers their parents talking about it before, but surely that can’t be the case.

Or perhaps?

Aofil carefully smells the air. It doesn’t smell dangerous. It smells bad, but that could be them after this trek they’ve done, or the wilt from the houses, or whatever. It doesn’t smell like gas though, which is very important. Should be safe enough to be here. The first sign of something feeling wrong Aofil’s gonna get out of here though. There’s gas a plenty that can kill, yet doesn’t smell. If it were gas here it would’ve leaked into the forest, yet Aofil can’t see any animal corpses lying around. Very strange.

Strange is kinda the word to describe these last few weeks though. Strange bordering on absurd. Majority being absurd, around ninety percent or so, with just a small bit resting on strange. Depending on what Aofil finds here, it might very well tip the scales. It could be equivalent of smashing the scale with a hammer, or it could just not be anything. Either way is uncomfortable to think about for Aofil.

Horrible if they find anything about Chara, horrible if they don’t. One means that they will find what they’re looking for. If they really want to find it is another question altogether. A question which Aofil’s already has the answer for.

No. A big no. Biggest they can muster.

It might even be worse if they don’t find anything. Then they have to search further, outside of their own reach. Involving other people can bode nothing but bad since Aofil will be asking about their dead twin that they have no idea about. The pastor knows more, but he hasn’t been answering Aofil calls this week. Nor has he showed himself at his church. Just a sign hung on the large front door.

‘Out on business.’

Sure he is… Sure he is…

The smell is getting a bit more bite to it as Aofil approaches the houses. It smells off. As in, not right. Not something you want to wake up to. They still can’t really place their finger on it. It’s not a strong smell though, and even the briskest of tailwinds pushes it away. Aofil should still be careful. The last thing they want to do is collapse at an abandoned village where no one has been for ages. No one knows that Aofil’s even here, and they’re not gonna come rushing to save them if anything happens. It’s gonna be a long while before anyone even notices that Aofil’s gone.

Aofil puts their hand on a nearby tree for support. They take a steadying breath as they’re hit with a gust of wind on their back. No smell, just clean mountain air. Fresh, reinvigorating. Aofil can do this.

They exhale, and push away from the tree.

Just a few steps later they start to feel something creep up on them. Or someone... They turn around, but they’re alone. Not an animal in sight even, much less a human.

Or a monster.

…

What? Why would there be a monster here? They’re all in their Underground. When would one get here too? Aofil saw half a crowd of journalists waiting eagerly on the plateau as they diverged from their secret path up Mt Ebott. No way in hell that a monster could slip by without being chased by a screaming myriad of journalists. Aofil would’ve heard them if that was the case, but all they can hear now is the wind moving through the forest. Not as loud as it would through the aspen at the graveyard, but still enough for Aofil to notice that it’s there.

No monsters can be here, no.

The fact leaves Aofil a bit… disappointed?

Why?

They didn’t dedicate any thought about the monsters earlier today when they decided to travel here, nor any on the way here, so why now that they are here? Why are Aofil thinking about the monsters now that they’ve arrived here? So weird.

And speaking of weird.

Aofil stops a few meters from the house closest to them. The vine creeping up it is almost yellow in color, as if it’s struggling to even survive. It’s slithering up the walls like a drunk snake. Weaving back and forth, up and down, side to side, and in some places it even goes back, only to grow over itself as it returns to growing up. In some places it even ends abruptly, only to sprout out from a ways back in on itself. The edges of where it stopped are black and shriveled. Aofil’s seen pieces of coal with more luster than the vine’s endings.

What really catches Aofil’s eyes though, and what stopped them in their tracks, is how the vine grows around the corner of the house.

Aofil runs their finger across it from top to bottom, but they don’t feel any bumps going from the wood of the house to the stem of the vine. It’s smooth.

The vine has filled some tears on the corner. The shape of them look familiar, but Aofil’s not sure-

No…

Aofil takes a step back.

How?

Three long and thick scars run diagonally across, and around, the corner. Three, what looks to be, deep rends. The vine, with its color and fabric so different to the wooden walls, look like scars.

The same scars as the pastor’s.

Aofil looks back towards their city, towards the church. Was it the same monster? Was it the same time? Why here though? Why at Aofil’s summer home?

And how could the pastor even let himself get hurt like that?

Yeah.

…

Wait. No? Yes?

Did the pastor battle with the monsters? What is Aofil thinking? Like, actual fighting? Fist versus claw fighting?

Again, how could he have lost against a monster?

He must’ve killed it. Or maybe the monster ran away? Why didn’t the pastor chase the kill though?

Aofil puts the flat of their hand up against their forehead. What the hell is going on in there? What’s all this about monsters all of a sudden? Worryingly so.

Is it the gas?

Aofil should get out of here. This was a bad decision. They need to leave before it’s too late.

It’s not gas though.

Why not?

Because it’s because of the monsters. It’s because of the monsters that Aofil’s feeling this way. Not gas, monsters.

Aofil removes their hand from their head.

It’s not gas that’s doing this to them.

It’s something caused by the monsters. It’s not gas, it’s magic. If it was gas then…

It’s not gas. Aofil repeats it to themselves. It’s not the gas, it is magic. It’s from the monsters. They’ve done some horrid stuff to Aofil, to the pastor, to the humans.

Aofil’s not even tired. Quite the opposite, in fact. They feel fresh, like they didn’t just walk for a couple of hours across mountain terrain. Gas would’ve made them feel worse, not better. It’s good that they came here, it’s good that they’re searching. They will find something about their twin here. They know it. They feel it deep inside them that Chara’s been here. Everything’s gonna be good. They’ll search their house and find all the answers about Chara.

Monsters too. Aofil needs to find out. They need to know everything. Aofil needs answers.

They deserve answers!

If what the pastor said about the monsters intentions are correct, then Aofil must be prepared. Chara’s the key to this. Aofil can put two and two together. It will all add up.

They tug at their backpack, rearranging it to comfortably rest on Aofil’s now rolled back shoulders. They feel so confident about this. How could it be wrong? Every part of them wants to find out. They just have to find it.

And what better place to start, where no other place is like?

Home.

The plaque next to the door is rusty, with some struggling green covering it. Aofil brushes the filth away as best as they can. It’s still rusty, but now it’s readable. Barely readable. Enough to make out the majority of the letter of Aofil’s last name though. They read it out loud to themselves.

Yup, sounds just the same as it’s always been. How would it sound with Chara name? Aofil wonders. They tap the plaque with two of their fingers.

“Chara-”

The plaque falls off the wall as the screws holding it in place has degraded to the point that even Aofil’s nonchalant tap loosened them from the wall.

Well that completely ruined the mood.

The holes left behind are not a pretty sight to see. Aofil’s can’t determine if the murk left behind in the plank is from the screws, or if it is the plank rotting from the inside.

With a quick tug on the side of the plank, Aofil confirms their suspicion. Without even putting in that much of an effort, the plank loosens from the wall. It squeaks loudly as it’s unmounted. Aofil gives it a slight push outwards, causing it to pivot towards the ground. As the corner closest to Aofil hits the ground the other end is shaken loose from the wall, and also falls down onto the grumpy grass with a dampened thud. The plank lands backside up, exposing rusty and crooked nails.

“Alright then.”

Aofil flips it over with their foot so that the nails point down into the dirt instead of in the air where they could potentially lodge themselves into Aofil’s foot. They’d rather not, if they could afford the luxury not to.

They also pick up the plaque from the ground, and place it inside the long exposed hole. They lodge the top of it underneath the plank above the hole. Should sit still there for the time being.

Now, what about inside?

Aofil tucks in their right arm underneath the shoulder strap of their backpack, and fling it around their left shoulder. They open the biggest section, and put their hand down to retrieve their key.

They regret that decision less than a second after.

“The hell!” Aofil shouts as they jerk their hand back from inside the backpack. They look down into the backpack with a disgusted look twisting the entirety of their face. Once again they put their hand inside, but this time extremely carefully.

They retrieve the biscuit packet, which has gone soft and crummy. The remaining food inside it is everything but edible.

What?

Aofil had one just a couple of minutes ago, and that one was fine. What the hell happened to the rest of them?

Magic.

Magic?

Magic.

Damn monsters, spoiling Aofil’s food. If they were responsible for this, then surely they must be responsible for all the decay around them as well. If Aofil can prove that in the upcoming trial it could mean a hefty lawsuit to follow.

The monster will pay, literally as well.

Aofil discards the biscuit package in a nearby plastic bowl. They’ll check on it once they’re done inside, see if’s gone worse.

Their water seems to be fine though, although it tastes a bit less. How in the world water could taste less than water is a bit of a mystery.

Unless it’s magic.

Which it is.

Not gas, magic. Didn’t Aofil just accept that already?

With a couple of violent shakes, Aofil manages to clean the key as much as possible. Enough for them to hold it normally, and they insert it into the lock.

Halfway through turning the lock open the key is stuck. Aofil tries to turn it back, but it’s almost as if it’s fused solid. They tug and angle it every way imaginable, but to no avail. The lock and key are one now, together as one. What was used to unlock has now been used to further lock.

Aofil wonders if the situation they’re in is ironic or not.

They decide to go with the third option instead, and just make the question obsolete.

They step one foot back, and lunge it against the door. The impact forces the lock through the murky wood it was attached to in the wall, and the door swings open violently. Crashing against the inner wall, and swirling up an incredible amount of dust in the process.

Aofil stands still, staring into the dust ridden hallway.

Why did they decide to kick the door?

To get inside, obviously.

Yes, but why did they decide that so rapidly? Almost as if the key getting stuck was just an excuse for them to force it in like this?

What does it matter, really? They’re allowed inside now, and wasn’t that the point?

Aofil shrugs, guess it was. They can’t deny that it felt really good kicking the door in. Very good, in fact. They should do it more often.

Their shirt will have to suffice as a filter against the dust, and Aofil steps carefully in with the fabric tugged up over their nose and mouth.

Where to begin looking?

Aofil hazards a guess towards the master bedroom.

The door needs a good forceful shoulder before it opens, and another wave of dust crashes over itself as it’s flung open. Aofil stumbles inside, almost falling over from putting a bit too much force into their tackle. They quickly regain their balance, and begin their search.

A few minutes of opening nothing but empty wardrobes and nightstands lowers Aofil’s excitement a bit, but as they fumble on the top layer of the wall mounted shelf, their hand finds something.

A photograph. Covered in dust like everything else.

It’s a picture of Aofil’s family.

All four of them.

Two adults.

Two children.

Two twins.

One is Aofil.

The other…

Aofil rubs the dust off the glass with the end of their shirt to get a better look.

Chara looked exactly like them.

Same hair color and style, same fair skin, same blossoming cheeks.

Aofil brushes one of their own. That’s weird, it’s hot. Their cheek is hot. Warmer than the rest of their face by a good margin. Not burning hot, but hot nonetheless.

Is it the dust around them? Are they allergic? Maybe that’s why their parents left? No, that doesn’t make sense. They would’ve sold the house then, not just abandon it. No, it has to have been the magic, and the monsters.

Aofil returns their eyes to the photograph. They almost forgot about it completely. Their head is so full of magic and monsters, it seems so insignificant that they found this picture. It’s not though, Aofil knows it. They don’t feel it though. Why is that? This should’ve jogged their memories, if they had any of Chara.

Did they come all the way out here for nothing?

No! There has to be something else!

Aofil chucks the photograph onto the hastily covered bed. It lands in a lake of dust, and creates a small splash before settling down after a few bounces. Aofil again searches through whatever they can find. They even drag up a nearby chair to see if there’s anything more on the top shelf.

Nothing. Just dust.

Room after room. Dust after dust. Cupboards fly open, wardrobes are ripped open in an ever increasing anger. Empty, empty, empty. Everything’s empty!

Why? It was supposed to be here! Why isn’t it here?

The mental anguish they’ve suffered this week was supposed to end here!

If there’s nothing in this god forsaken house of theirs, then there must be something else in one of the other houses. Aofil’s gonna go through each and everyone of them to the last crevice!

With heavy steps they storm out of their summer home, with eyes fixed on the one next to theirs. Just across that wilted patch of flowers.

They can’t believe this.

The ground underneath Aofil’s feet turn soft as they approach the wilted patch.

They’ve done all they were supposed to, but still they’re here, empty handed.

The soft ground gives way to gravel like mud.

Chara was supposed to be here! If not that, then at least something about the monsters!

The gravely mud sinks deep underneath Aofil’s feet. They don’t care though. Their entire being is screaming for answers. They’re driven forward by a feeling that’s swelling up inside them. It’s warm, and it’s spreading all around inside them. Aofil feels strong. They’re gonna get to the bottom of this!

They are filled with determination!

Aofil stops as they reach the center of the patch. The flowers below them are bent. Bent into a shape, a form of a child. A human child. Aofil dries the dust away from their cheek. It is scolding hot, but it’s not to Aofil’s concern.

Because it’s all fallen into place now.

The silhouette at their feet must’ve been Chara’s. Killed by a monster attack. An attack that caused the abandonment of the houses around Aofil.

Aofil’s finally found Chara, and to that, they can only say one thing.

“Pathetic.”

How could Chara die to a monster? They must’ve been weak to have fallen to a monster. It’s good that Aofil never found out until now. Probably couldn’t have lived with the shame knowing that their twin, which was their mirror copy, died to a monster.

No wonder Aofil’s parents didn’t want Aofil to find out.

A chuckle escapes Aofil. A loud chuckle, that almost immediately turns into a bellowing roar. All of this searching, all of this worry, and they’re left with an answer so absurd that it’s gonna not only tip the scale of the word of the week, but flip the entire table as well.

Aofil scoffs one last time. A monster. What a joke.

“C-Chara?”

Aofil turns around. At the end of the flower patch is a flower. The surprise of seeing one combined with the surprise of being surprised of seeing a flower in a flower patch doesn’t have time to hit Aofil, as the yellow Flower produces a face.

“C-Chara?” it speaks.

A monster?

“I-It’s me C-Chara. Y-your best f-friend.”

Aofil feels their cheeks tug at their lips.

Good.


	98. The evil twin

"H-how did you get here?"

Aofil feels their smile widen. "Oh, I just walked here," they answer. "Just a nice afternoon stroll, you know?"

The flower looks around, clearly confused about what's going on. It seems to have also confused Aofil for Chara. Why a monster would know of Chara's name is interesting to say the least. Very interesting to be closer. It said that it was Chara’s best friend too.

Very, very interesting.

“Walked?” the flower cocks its...head? It clearly has a face. A quivering, confused, and most importantly, scared face. It’s probably well aware how weak it is compared to a human such as Aofil. Great, so it knows its place. Maybe Aofil can ask it some questions about the other monsters. Not for now though, they’re gonna enjoy playing with their prey for a while.

“Yeah, I walked,” Aofil answers again. “Went from home to here.”

“Home?” the flower coughs out violently. “You mean, with our parents? Do they know about you?” The flower lowers its head, averting its gaze as tears starts to form in its eyes. “Do they know about me?” it asks hesitantly.

“Haven’t seen your parents.”

Aofil isn’t lying.

“What about the other child? Frisk? I...I didn’t replace you, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just...” The flower swallows hard as it stumbles on its words. Aofil raises an eyebrow, and beads of sweat starts oozing out of the flower’s face.

“Just what?” Aofil pries, making sure to sound as disappointed as possible.

“I...”

Aofil hardens their gaze.

“I’ve missed you so much!” the flower cries out. Tears are flooding the ground below it. Its sobs echo throughout the empty homes and forest. The pained breathing is nothing short of pathetic.

Aofil scoffs.

What an absolute crybaby.

Aofil should just kill it. One less crybaby in the world, and better yet, one less monster in the world. It’s just in their way at this point. Keeping it alive could be more valuable though. It seems to have bonded with Chara, and also seems to believe Aofil to be Chara. That could prove useful. Perhaps Aofil can get some information out of it. If not, then Aofil will at the very least enjoy playing with it for a while before they kill it. Does it even know that Chara has died? Obviously not, how else would it have mistaken Aofil for their twin.

The flower catches Aofil looking down on the silhouetted shape in the wilted flower patch. “I-is that why you’re here?” it asks in between its sobs. “Your dead twin?”

Aofil snaps their head towards the flower. Twin? Chara’s twin? Aofil? Is it...is it their silhouette in the flowers? No...can’t be.

“S-sorry if that sounded harsh, C-Chara. I’m,” the flower looks down at its stem, “I’m not used to talking to anyone that I actually care about. Please,” the flower grits its teeth hard and closes its eyes equally as hard, “forgive me.”

As the flower tries to hold in the awful sounding sobs it produces, Aofil turns back to the outline of a child in the almost rotten flower patch right next to them. Is it them? Is it their own shape? They’re alive though. How is it even possible? What about Chara then? Are they still alive? Where then? In the Underground?

How else could they have come in contact with this monster? What did it mean by ‘our parents’? Did Aofil have a second sibling? Did they have a monster? This monster? A flower?

“Our parents,” Aofil says carefully. “Where are they? Who are they?”

The flower’s sobs stop as soon as it hears the question. It glances over silently. Fear stretching over its face like a rubber fabric about to burst. “You,” it leans back, “you don’t remember? About Toriel? Asgore?”

Aofil doesn’t shake their head, nor do they nod. They just move it back to the shape underneath them.

Those names aren’t of their own parents. Aofil does faintly recognize the names though. From where though? Aofil puts their hand up to their forehead. They rub it as they think. Toriel. Asgore. They swear they’ve heard those names before, but from where?

Their eyes shoot wide open.

The paper! They’ve read something about those names. Something important. Asgore and Toriel were a couple. An important couple.

“The king and queen!” Aofil exclaims while snapping their fingers. Yes, the king and queen of the monsters!

A long sigh of relief bursts out of the flower. “Oh good, you remember, Chara. I guess you came back akin to how I did. Not remembering is pretty scary, but I’ll help you remember all the good times we had. It’ll be just like before, Chara. We’ll be best friends again!” The flower summons a smile so bright it could be renamed a sunflower. The smile fades a bit though, and the flower scratches one of its petals with its leaf. “Why are you an adult though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I...maybe your human souls continued to age, or something? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter to me. I’m fine with you being whatever age. You should be stronger now, right? Since you’re an adult now, and all that. I remember you saying that you could easily wipe the entire Underground out if you wanted when we were about to sleep one night. It was a bit...weird.”

Aofil cocks their head.

The sudden tilt sends a ripple through the flower. It bites its lips while staring at Aofil. Almost as if cowering under Aofil’s presence. Which is good, as it’s supposed too be cowering.

“Hahaha,” the flower laughs unconvincingly, “I didn’t mean weird as in you being weird, just that what you said kinda came out of left field, you know? We had just come back from the training with the old turtle, Gerson, and you just spurted that out. I know you’d never do it, never without a very good reason, that is. Are…are you planning on doing it now? I’m with you if you want.”

The flower waits for Aofil to answer, but Aofil just keeps their eyes hardened, and their head tilted to the side. The flower starts shaking more and more with each passing second, until it finally bursts into a wide and crooked smile fueled by the deepest fear Aofil can imagine. Which again, is absolutely fantastic. If it’s this easy to make the monsters cower, then Aofil is gonna have no problem putting the rest of the monsters under their boot, where they belong.

If Aofil has put two and two together correctly, then it appears that Chara had some form of relationship with Toriel and Asgore. The queen and king of the Underground. With Aofil being their twin and all, perhaps they can utilize their likeness. Aofil, ruler of the Underground. It has a nice ring to it. Aofil might be biased, but if you’re the ruler, you’re allowed to.

Would Aofil want to rule over such a weak race though? Probably not.

“I’m behind you if you want to,” the flower reminds. “I’m always behind you, Chara. You just say the word, and I’ll do it. Just like before. It’ll be just like before! Mom, dad, there’s no one that I’ll allow to stand in your way. You’re the only one I care about in this miserable world, Chara. You and me, no one else. No one else to tell us what do to. You don’t even have to make me Asriel again. If you want me to be like this, then I’ll be like this. For you, I’ll be anyone, and I’ll always be your best friend.”

Aofil raises an eyebrow at that promise. “Anyone?”

“Yes!” the flower nods ecstatically. “Anyone!”

“Even me?”

The flower freezes. “Y-y-you?” it sputters after a couple of short chokes of its words.

“Show me who Chara was while living with you and Toriel and Asgore,” Aofil demands loud and clear. Should give them a bit of an insight into how much Chara meant to the freaking king and queen of the Underground! Aofil’s gonna have such a great hand to play when the trial arrives.

The flower’s eyes beads left and right. “Y-you mean while you were living with Asriel and his parents?”

“Sure!” Aofil shrugs. “Show me Asriel too. Show me the entire family!”

The flower is hesitant. Its face has frozen in a baffled expression. Aofil throws their arms out sideways. “Well?” they ask, making sure to sound very impatient.

“I-If it’s w-what you want, then alright. I’ll show you. I h-haven’t really tried to do more than one before, and I-”

The flower catches a glimpse of Aofil furrowing their brow.

“B-but for you I’ll do anything, Chara!”

Aofil moves their arms towards their chest, crossing them. They stare in surprised wonder as twisted vines start growing up from the soil. The vines aren’t like the yellow wilted ones on the houses though, they’re thick and green. Just as thorny though, but looking way healthier than the others. They move as if possessed. Is this what magic can do? Aofil has to admit that it’s more than they fathomed a monster could do.

Not enough to scare them, but enough to lift a pair of surprised eyebrows.

The flower’s face is coiled in deep focus. Its tongue is hanging out as thick drops of sweat run over its face, hanging off its petals for just a moment, and then being shaken away as the flower bounces from its efforts. With each new vine that pops up, its eyes narrow more and more. It’s taking a lot out of the flower to create whatever it is doing. If Aofil were to attack now it wouldn’t stand a chance.

It’s not long before a wall has been erected before Aofil. A wall of green stems trickled with sharp thorns. They sway back and forth in rhythm with the flower trying to catch its breath.

“I,” the flower takes a deep breath. “I just need a second to catch my breath. It’s hard enough doing for one.”

“Take your time,” Aofil says. This is becoming really interesting, and they can’t help but be curious how it’ll look like.

The flower gasps lightly. “T-thanks,” it says, relieved, and a bit...proud. Or is it just more relief? Aofil can’t tell exactly, but it did sound like Aofil said the first piece of encouragement for a long time for that flower monster.

A couple of seconds later, as the yellow flower takes one final big inhale of air, the vines start bending. Moving through each other, like knots, and shaping four distinct figures out of the vines.

The first shape to form is a small one. Childlike in size, but not a human child. The figure has, what appears to be, a muzzle, and large ears that go from the top of the forming head, all the way down to the appearing chin. Two arms, and two legs.

Next to it forms another small figure. This one more human in its facial feature. To Aofil, it’s like seeing a hedge clipping with them as a child for the model.

Behind the two children there are made two large figures. Well, one large, and one enormous. The large one is formed first, with a similar muzzle and pair of ears as the first child. A pair of horns, soft almost, are protruding from its head. The enormous one is almost as wide as the rest of the figures combined. It towers over the large one by at least a head. Its horns are much longer than the large one.

A winded gasp shifts Aofil’s focus back down to the flower.

“D-done!” it says, and immediately after gasping greedily for air.

“Neat.”

“W-why did you want me to do this, Chara?”

Aofil doesn’t hear the question. They just thought of something.

“How did they all sound?”

The flower peeks out from behind the green figures. “W-what?”

“Can you imitate the voices too? I mean, it should be magic for you too, right? I want to hear how they all sound, please.”

The flower is a bit hesitant. It narrows its eyes towards Aofil, as if waiting for Aofil to smile and call it all a joke. Aofil’s dead serious though. If this monster can imitate sounds too, they might have an unbelievable advantage. If it can imitate the king and queen of the monsters… Aofil’s mind starts spinning with possibilities.

“Go on!” they encourage, eager to hear.

“O-okay then, I guess.”

Wait…how will Aofil know if it’s the real voices of the king and queen. It might be bluffing, and-

“Howdy, I’m Chara.”

That’s-

“Was it too much?” the flower asks with its head sunk into its shoulders.

Aofil can’t believe their ears. They have to hear it again. “Say that again.”

“You sure?”

Aofil nods. “Yes.”

The flower clears its throat, and the human child collection of vines takes a step forward.

“Howdy, I’m Chara,” it says.

With the same voice Aofil had when they were a child.

Did...did Chara sound the same too? Not only a perfect copy of Aofil visually, but auditory as well. Did Chara act the same as Aofil too? Would it all have been the same if they switched places?

“Are you okay, Chara?” the flower asks with its own voice. “You look a bit pale. Not pale as in…” It averts its eyes while gritting its teeth. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Aofil notices on their hand that their color has indeed faded quite a bit. They feel it too. To hear their own voice coming from that figure, how it’s made out of twisted vines, yet still recognizable, it’s a lot for Aofil to take in. That’s not even factoring in that it’s representing their long gone twin. Aofil’s surprised that they’re not white as a ghost, if not paler.

The last drops of color still left inside their skin can be chalked up to Aofil now being sure that whatever voice the flower uses for the king and queen will be the right ones. If they can nail Chara’s perfectly, then it should nail the king and queen perfectly. Aofil just have to play along.

“Did I bring up some bad memories by doing that, Chara?” the flower asks while slowly building up the courage to look back over to Aofil., “S-sorry if I did. I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve known that this would happen. I felt just the same when I came back. I could’ve prevented the same fear I felt. You haven’t had time to get used to it, but I have.” The figures start unraveling. “I’ll get these away from you now.”

“No.”

The vines stop unraveling, leaving the four figures in an almost melted state that’s a bit disturbing for Aofil to look at.

“Bring them back,” they say, indicating their request with a nonchalant wave of their hand.

“B-but you-”

“Just do it! I want to hear the rest too.”

The figures regain their shapes as the vines retract to form them again. This time the child next to Chara steps forward.

“Howdy, I’m Asr-”

The flower looks down, and the child marionette it’s controlling slumps over, along with the rest of the other chassis of coppice. The flower sighs heavily before puppeteering the vines again. The thicket filled bodies slither back to an upwards position. The vines strain as they’re tensed, and the sound makes Aofil a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m Asriel,” the child figure next to Chara says. “Your best friend.”

Aofil nods, and the figure takes a step back.

The larger one behind it puts its arms crossed vertically over its body. “Greetings, I am Toriel,” it says warmly. “It’s been long, my child.”

Child?

Aofil looks over to the flower with their brow narrowed in surprise. “What?” they mouth to it.

“S-sorry,” the flower says, not realizing that it’s also moving the mouth of its puppets. They all mouthed just like he did, like possessed entities.

Granted, they are quite literally possessed. Didn’t stop it from being creepy though. Both the vines, and the way they moved all the mouths simultaneously.

Finally, the enormous one speaks. “Greetings, human. I am Asgore, king of the Underground.”

The low and booming voice coming from it almost shakes loose Aofil’s sinuses. They dry off what leaked out with the sleeve of their shirt. Some dust gets stuck in their nose from their sleeve arm, and they turn around quickly to shoot it out as quickly as possible.

A loud and unnaturally fast mixture of creaking wood and cracking plants forces Aofil to turn their head back around to see what the hell it was that could produce such sound. What they find is nothing. The figures are gone, it’s only the flower left. It’s heaving heavily, breathing deeply in, and exhaling just as deeply.

“D-did I do good, Chara?” it asks after swallowing hard. “Was it good?”

“Sure!” Aofil runs their finger underneath their nose to get the last snot away. “It was good.”

“I’m glad that you liked it, Chara. Although it was a bit creepy hearing you wanting to hear your own voice. Is it because yours now sound so-”

“Watch it!” Aofil growls, shutting the mouth of the flower with a scared squeak.

“S-sorry. Still t-trying to w-wrap my head around t-talking to someone I actually w-want to talk with.”

“Just keep that in mind, alright?” Aofil asks with a small smile. “I’m your best friend, after all. Aren’t I?”

“Y-yes! You are!”

Aofil is gonna be able work this monster like a yoyo. Aw man! This is gonna be amazing! As soon as the pastor comes back, Aofil is gonna start recording evidence against the monsters. They have the voice of the king and queen at their disposal. Ain’t no chance in hell, or the Underground, that the monsters are gonna even get the slightest chance in the upcoming trial.

“H-how are you alive, Chara?”

Aofil’s ears perk to the point of them almost flying off their head. “What?”

“H-how are you alive?”

“I got better,” Aofil answers with a smile.

The flower laughs, but Aofil can tell that it is a plastered one. “Yeah, good one. I guess you don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Not really, no.”

“Alright,” the flower nods. “T-that’s fine, I don’t really like to talk about when I c-came back. The important part is that you’re here, and that I’m here, and that we can be best friends again! You and me, Chara.”

Aofil nods in rhythm with the flower. “You and me.”

The flower looks around. “So, um, is this where you live now, Chara?”

Aofil follows the flower’s glance with their own. “No, no. I lived here before. Thought I would visit, and then I ran into you.”

“Yeah,” the flower smiles warmly, “that you did.”

“Do you want to follow me back home?” Aofil proposes while pointing over yonder towards their town. “I have some things I want to discuss with you.”

“Yes! There’s nothing more I want to do!” the flower exclaims, happy as can be.

“You think I can carry you home in a pot or something? To keep your existence a bit lowkey. I got some plans ahead, and I need you to be my ace up my sleeve.”

“S-sure!” the flower agrees, although Aofil can hear it not being as ecstatic as it makes itself out to be.

“Great, then let’s go, um...”

“Flowey,” the flower fills in. “I’m Flowey now. U-unless you want to call me Asriel. Like I s-said, both are fine with me.”

“Flowey, ey?” Aofil says while looking to the side to let the name sink in.

Flowey.

What a stupid name.


	99. HOME on the Surface

"You hungry perhaps?"

Aofil places Flowey down on the table next to the door. They close the door behind them, and making doubly sure that it is locked.

"Hm?" the monster replies after a quick turn of its flowery head. "No, not really. I'm fine, thank you."

“You need some other kind of food? Is that it?” Aofil pries. “Monster food, perhaps?”

“No,” Flowey says while shaking his head. “I can eat human food. I’ve done it before.”

Aofil snaps up a thumb. “Right.”

"Where, um?" Aofil narrows their eyes in a thought that they never would've imagined they would have to ask. "Where do you want to sit? Near a window?"

Flowey looks around the hallway. His mouth hangs a bit open while a low hum flows freely out of it. "Uuuhhh?" He seems just as baffled by receiving the question as Aofil is asking it. "I don't know? Wherever is close to you? Is that fine with you? I don’t want to be clingy."

To try and alleviate the slight and awkward tension that’s suddenly present in the air, Flowey waves his vine arms up and down while smiling. “I don’t have those kind of vines!” he says as a joke.

Neither of them laugh at it.

“You know, not clingy vines? They’re not creepy as...well...” Flowey tries again, but this time the waves are like shallow shrugs.

Aofil gets it, but they ain’t laughing. Flowey coughs loudly after a couple of awkward seconds.

As he coughs, he looks down on the pot below him. He taps it curiously with one of his leafs. "I'm not really sure how to answer this, actually. I am used to being able to move around freely, you know? Now that I’m in this pot it feels a bit strange. It’s like a prison. Not really, because I understand why we have to do it, but still. Nothing that I can fault you for though, Chara, so don’t worry about that. It’s just me. Even the monsters in the Underground were taken back as they saw a moving flower. Can’t imagine what it would do to a human.”

Aofil picks up the pot from the table after they’ve removed their shoes, and hung up their jacket. “Alright, how about the kitchen table? Or maybe the living room? If you need sun that’s where you’ll be the best off.”

Flowey let’s a silent “Yeah...” trickle out of him.

Aofil realizes their blunder. “Oh! Right, the Underground. Not much sun there.”

“You would know.”

“I do,” Aofil lies with an innocent smile. “I do. Just slipped my mind, that’s all.”

“It happens.”

Flowey puts up one of his vines over his eyes as the two of them reach the kitchen. The late afternoon sun is blazing hard through the windows, reflecting off the tile floor and metal sink.

“If other humans come around you’ll have to be quiet,” Aofil instruct as they put Flowey down on the kitchen table. “You can act like a normal flower, right?”

Flowey doesn’t answer.

“Right?” Aofil asks again. They turn Flowey’s pot around, but his face is gone. It’s just a normal flower. They grab a hold of the edge of one of the petals, and shake the run of the mill yellow flower. “Flowey?”

No answer.

Did…did Aofil just imagine it all? Maybe...maybe it really was gas, and not magic? Has Aofil been hallucinating the monster? What kind of name is Flowey, really?

Wow, and all of that about Chara? About them being in a relationship with the king and queen of the monsters? Ha! That’s just-

“Good, wasn’t it?” Flowey’s face returns with a smile. “One time I spent like a week or so just whispering stuff when Asgore was alone in the throne room while disguised as one of his precious flowers. He went insane after just two days!”

Flowey grabs his head while morphing his face to that of the largest figure he created at Aofil’s summer home. The face is beyond fear, screaming silently as tears rolls down its face.

“No reason for me to stop though,” Flowey continues after shifting his face back to his own. “It just became funnier seeing him break down from the inside. He started to plead with the voices of the kids he’d killed. Started pleading with the voice of his oh so tragic Toriel condemning him. While his two children were screaming at him for not being able to save them he fell down on his big stupid knees, and cried until his armor was completely rusted. His pathetic sobs were heard all the way to the Waterfall! Perhaps even further! I’d love to have seen Toriel’s face had she heard him sniveling like her son, but with bigger lungs!”

With a horizontal motion with his leaf over his throat, Flowey puts out his tongue out the side of his mouth and lets it hang for a moment. “Asgore killed himself that night by trying to scoop out the voices with his trident.” Flowey scoffs. “And I’m only slightly exaggerating about that.”

Flowey looks up from his ramblings only to meet Aofil looking down on him with a baffled expression stretching over every nook and cranny of their face. Flowey quickly sinks down, cowering, as his entire body starts shaking. “S-sorry, Chara! Y-you were talking about how we’ll b-bring down the monsters on t-the way here, so I t-thought that...”

Aofil shakes themselves awake while stumbling clumsily on their words. “No...no, it’s not that. If anything we can use that against them during the trial. It’s just that,” Aofil runs their hand in a circular motion over their face, “your face.”

“Ah.” Flowey shoots back upright while nodding. “Yes, yes. Sorry if I scared you, then. I-it was good though?”

Aofil’s mouth instinctively shifts into an impressed frown. “Yeah, it was. I mean, I started to question whether or not you were real.”

Flowey nods, “Yeah,” but it’s reserved. “I’ve kinda gone through that myself a couple of times,” he says under his breath. “But we’re together now!” he half shouts. “We’re best friends again!”

“And now we’re in my house instead of yours,” Aofil points out with a guess.

“Can I...” Flowey clears his throat. “Can I look around?”

Aofil’s brow furrows hard. Not even because of the why, but because of the “How?”

Flowey lifts out a foot shaped from thin vines out of the dirt. “Like this.” He wiggles his toes to show them off.

Aofil would rather that he didn’t.

They’d rather not him run off on his own too. He might get wise to Aofil not being Chara. For all the slip ups Aofil has done though, it seems that it would take nothing short of a crowbar, or even some earth moving equipment, to convince Flowey otherwise. So that’s nice to know. It’s not like Flowey will run off or anything. He seems pretty content with this emotional lease he’s strung around himself, and handed the reins over to Aofil.

Aofil should still think of some contingency plan, just in case. If they’re to have the pastor over, or anyone else for that matter, they’re bound to be called Aofil instead of Chara. Aofil might not be able to do enough to derail Flowey’s train of thought, but someone else might. Maybe it’s better if Aofil put at least some cards on the table with Flowey. A few cards that might give Aofil some leeway should they be called by their own name. Not enough for Flowey to not call Aofil Aofil while it’s just the two of them, but perhaps when there’s other people around.

They won’t be lying. They’ll just be postponing the truth until Flowey can handle it. They’ll tell Flowey the entire truth eventually.

Oh yes, they will.

“C-Chara?”

Aofil looks over to the weak monster.

“W-why did you do your creepy face just now?” Flowey asks with deep uncertainty tugging his lips back forth between a smile and a scared frown.

“My what?” Aofil returns with an innocent shrug of their shoulders. “No, I was just struck with an idea, that’s all.”

Flowey doesn’t look convinced, but not unconvinced enough to make a scene out of it. “Oh, alright. Something about what you’re planning?”

“Yup,” Aofil answers quickly. “You wanted to look around a bit, no? Well, feel free. Just don’t break anything.”

“Oh...” Flowey’s posture becomes more relaxed, and his lips cement into a beaming expression. “Y-yeah, I wanted to see how you lived before you came down into the Underground.”

“My room is upstairs,” Aofil informs with a pair of pointing fingers. Technically they’re not lying. “I’ll be in the kitchen to make some food. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“If it’s a hassle for you, then don’t bother. I don’t really eat much. Not food, that is. Not sun either, but that you already know by now.”

Aofil nods. “Fine by me. My house is your house. Just like before, no?”

“Y-yeah, just like before, Chara.” Flowey takes one foot out of the dirt. “In a way we’ve now completed what we set out to do.” And the other foot follows shortly after. “We’re both on the Surface, together, and the monsters are free.”

Aofil stares bewildered at the flower standing on its own two feet. Like a green stick figure with small thorns spread across, and an over sized head. It’s strange, to say the least. Doesn’t help that the stride the flower is taking reminds Aofil of an old cartoon.

“We’re not kids no more though, Chara. Maybe us wanting to free the monsters was nothing more than childish naivety. It’s how they were freed a couple of weeks ago, after all. People change, and the monsters have changed quite a lot since they last were on the Surface. Is it perhaps mercy killing you’re planning, Chara?”

Aofil twists their lips, as they don’t really have a good answer for this question. Hearing it out loud like this. It feels weird, it sounds...wrong to Aofil.

“You might’ve changed the most though, Chara. I remember you saying that you hated humanity. When I was alone in the Underground I thought you’d be happy as can be when Asgore swore to kill any and all human that fell down after we...died.” Flowey halts his foot on the first step up to the second floor. “But I guess six were too many, Chara?”

Aofil’s eyes flare up. “Six?” they almost scream in surprise. Six humans? Dead in the Underground? Was that what the pastor was talking about? Six kids killed?

No, the monsters must pay. Aofil will make sure they feel the consequences of what they’ve done. No hesitation! No more! This will justify what Aofil’s planning. The monsters have to know that murder will not go unpunished.

Flowey again averts his eyes, this time in fear. “Y-you still look scary when you’re angry, Chara. I’m s-sure that it’ll help you though. It will show the monsters that you’re determined! That snotty brat will stand no match to you!”

“Who?” Aofil asks.

“F-Frisk!” Flowey turns his head back around. “They were the one that forced me to break the Barrier! They tricked me! They played with my emotions! They made me say things about you I never would’ve said had I not had those stupid souls inside me. It was their soul! It felt like yours! If I had known that you wanted the monsters still locked up I would’ve never even thought of breaking the Barrier. I swear! You know me!”

“Well, it broke.”

“Y-yes,” Flowey whimpers, as if preparing himself to be punished.

“And this Frisk tricked you into doing it?”

“Yes!”

“Is this Frisk, a human?”

Flowey nods. “But they’re much weaker than you! You’re an adult now! You’re much stronger than some kid could ever be! They think they can replace you. They’re all smiles and sunshine, nuzzling up to the king and queen! But I know!” Flowey balls one of his leafs up. “I know that they’re not the perfect little goody two shoes they make themselves out to be. They’ve killed before! They’ve killed everyone before! I just know it, Chara. I could feel it from their soul. Their hunger for dust!”

“And Frisk is now with the king and queen? Are they gonna do something? Start killing again?”

Whatever start killing again means. If the king and queen of the monsters have a psychotic child among them it could be leveraged. To what end would they benefit of having a murderous human child at their side though? Weird. Certainly weird. Perhaps the pastor knows more? He knew about the children that the monsters apparently have murdered, so perhaps he knows a bit more about this Frisk kid.

“No, I don’t think so. They went through the Underground befriending everyone. Even our parents!” Flowey wraps a vine around one of the support to the handlebar next to the stairs. His grip tightens, making the wood creak. “Who is this kid trying to replace us? Replace you! Who could ever? You were the hope of the Underground, Chara! Who could ever hold a candle to the hope you brought to the monsters? What you brought to me! If they’ve all forgotten, then we’ll show them just how much it’ll hurt to be on your bad side. If they just throw you away at the first sight of another human doing something barely, and remotely close to what you did for them, then we’ll show them what happens if they replace their hope for a lesser one! They’ll smile as they remember what you were, while cowering at what you’ve become because of them. Together!”

Flowey catches his breath. “They’ll pay.” With deep and sharp breaths he huffs angrily. “It was because of them that you died. You just wanted to help, but they couldn’t do anything but watch as we died. Pathetic, all of them. Our parents, the ones that we trusted, did nothing as we turned into dust. We cried, and they did nothing! They couldn’t do anything when I woke up. I was alone, I was scared, but no one came. No one could save me. No one,” Flowey looks up to Aofil. Tears flooding his eyes, and a hopeful smile subduing his frustrated grin, “but you, Chara. You’re the only one I care about, because you’re the only one that could help me. The only one I could imagine saving me. So long I’ve been alone with this void inside of me, with the only thing holding me up being you.”

“Frisk,” Flowey curses. “Frisk didn’t even want to touch me. I poured my soul out for them. I gave up everything, but they turned away. They left me to turn back into this!” He looks at his vines wrapped around the wooden pole. “To this useless form!”

“But with you,” Flowey whispers as his voice starts to give in. “With you, Chara, I feel so strong. Just like when we were kids. Your determination, I could feel it back then, and I can feel it now as well. It’s so comforting, you have no idea. Like the only light I’ve seen in an eternity. Six human souls, and the entire Underground was nothing compared to what I’m feeling when I’m standing here next to you, Chara.”

Flowey releases his grip on the wooden pole. His thorns dug into the wood, leaving behind small holes of exposed flesh. Flowey retracts the vine back into him, and glances over to Aofil. “Sorry, I’m not used to actually feeling emotional. Was it too much, Chara?”

Aofil can’t believe the gold mine they’ve just struck with this monster. Here it is, bleeding its heart out for them. Thinking that Aofil is someone that meant so much for it. Meant everything for this Flowey.

Everything Chara planted, Aofil can reap. And collect however they want.

They’re gonna have a harvest unlike anything seen before. Everything that’s worth for this monster right now is Aofil, and Aofil will be sure to use that as much as they can.

“Go upstairs and look around, Flowey,” Aofil says with a careful tone filled with warmth and comfort. “Take your time.”

The comfort pours over Flowey like an overflowing bucket, and he can barely hold himself together. “W-where is your room, Chara? I want to see how you lived before you did with me.”

“Straight ahead once you get up there. Door on the...” Aofil pauses to make sure they say the one that wasn’t theirs, “right side.”

“T-thanks.”

“Anytime, Flowey.” Aofil gives the monster a tugged smile. “Anytime.”

The flower walks up the stairs very silly. The steps are up to its head, so its legs must extend to the point of it looking like even worse of a stick figure.

Aofil can’t help but giggle to themselves as the reality of something this, for lack of a better word, monstrous of an opportunity will probably never settle in for them.

This flower is gonna be not only an ace up their sleeve, but the entire deck of cards, and then some. And it just keeps on giving! There is literally nothing Aofil can do barring telling it directly that they’re not Chara to break it’s devotion to them. The contempt stirring inside that flower is nothing short of absolute, and Aofil can aim it wherever they please.

All they need now is to get information out of it. They could just ask it directly to tell everything to them, or-

The doorbell rings, summoning a worried Flowey to the staircase. It looks down as Aofil goes out to answer the door. “H-humans?” it asks.

Aofil nods. “Probably. Stay upstairs for the time being, will you? I don’t think they’ll hear the sound of your footsteps. Just don’t knock anything over, and it should be fine.”

“I-if you say so.”

“Wait!” Aofil halts Flowey just before it can scurry away again. “If you hear the humans calling me Aofil, that’s what my twin was named. So just roll with it. It’s their body, after all.”

Flowey’s eyes shoot wide open. “What?”

“Aofil survived, and I managed to just slip in when I came back as a soul.”

“Y-you can do that?”

“My determination eclipsed theirs,” Aofil hazards as a guess.

“Ah!” Flowey nods as he starts to understand. “Since you’re twins and all, you have the same soul. Like you said when we were kids! You’re the better twin though.”

“Best part is that it’s not even difficult looking myself in the mirror!” Aofil decides to sacrifice a pawn in order to check mate the king. They tug at their cheeks with their hand. “Besides these lines, and whatnot.”

“B-but, weren’t you and Aofil not the same...” Flowey looks away to the side. “You know?”

They weren’t?

Aofil clears their throat. “Yeah, but that’s not a problem. They don’t suspect a thing.”

The doorbell rings twice, with harder presses.

“It’s just what happened.” Aofil shrugs as nonchalantly as they can. “So we’ll roll with it. Alright?”

“S-sure. I can do that,” Flowey agrees with a hesitant nod that turns confident after one or two shakes. He blinks with one eye. “Aofil.”

Aofil snaps an extended thumb towards the flower along with a proud wink. “Perfect.”

Flowey scurries back upstairs, and Aofil shakes their head in disbelief.

Like a damn yoyo.

Aofil opens the door to greet the visitor. “Oh!” They smile widely, and motion with their arm for the human to enter. “Why don’t you come in?”

The pastor bows his head, and accepts the invitation. “You’ve been calling me a lot.”

“You haven’t been answering a lot,” Aofil replies as they close the door behind the pastor.

“I’ve been busy.”

Aofil takes the pastor’s coat and hangs it up. “About the monsters?”

“Yes, about the-” The pastor freezes as he meets Aofil’s eyes. “A-Aofil?”

They glance up quickly towards the staircase to make sure that the flower isn’t there. They might’ve convinced it, but they still feel like they should lessen the amount of times it hears Aofil being called their real name, just in case.

“Yes?” Aofil replies with an inquisitive eyebrow.

“H-how are you feeling, Aofil?”

Aofil shrugs quickly. “Just dandy. Why do you ask?”

“S-so, it’s not about humans?” the pastor asks while standing as if he’s ready to bolt out the door without even grabbing his jacket.

“Pardon?”

The pastor moves a step away from the door as he hardens his eyes on Aofil’s. “So,” he starts before a wide grin forms on his lips, “it’s about the monsters? Have you realized what they did? What they’ve done to your family?”

“You mean about Chara?” Aofil asks while nodding towards the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Yes.” The pastor nods eccentrically. “Yes! Oh, and the tea as well.”

Aofil takes lead. They fill up some water in the kettle. “So what have you done about the monsters?” they inquire while waiting for the kettle to fill up.

“I’m planning an investigation about the missing children.”

Aofil shuts off the water, “Oh!” and shakes the kettle just enough for the lid to fall down with a clonk. “I think I can help a bit with that. I think I can help with much more than that even.”

“Y-you can?” the pastor stumbles out. He has to wait for Aofil to reach into the top cupboard to get a hold of some teabags though.

“Yeah," they answer as they stretch their arm to the back of the cupboard. “It might even be better if it tells you everything though.”

“It?” falls out of the pastor’s confused mouth.

“Flowey!” Aofil shouts up the staircase. “Would you kindly come down and tell everything you know to this friend of mine?”

It’s quiet. Just long enough for the pastor to start speaking up, but he’s silenced, as finally an answer comes from above.

“Y-you sure?”

Aofil turns their head back towards the pastor. They wiggle their eyebrows to him, and then shots up the stairs again, “Yeah, I am. Come down, I’m making some tea.”

“Golden Flower?”

“Human tea.”

“Ah.”

Aofil takes a seat opposite the pastor. They move the dirt filled pot in between them. The pastor again wants to speak up, but he’s again silenced by his own stunned shock as Flowey jumps up on the table, and crawls into his pot. He’s sunken down a bit, and looks over to Aofil. “T-this might not be a good idea.”

Aofil waves their hand and scoffs lightly through their lips. “Nonsense! We all three want the same thing.”

Flowey opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by a clean C tone whistle. Aofil shoots out their chairs, and stands up.

“Tea’s ready.”


	100. Calm before the making of the storm

"You hungry perhaps?"

"Hm...No, not really. I'm fine, thank you."

The pastor insists with a slight nod of his head. “It’s gonna be a while until food will be served once the trial gets started, so you should really eat, Aofil.”

Fine then. “Sure, a sandwich or something,” Aofil answers while throwing their hand up.

The pastor hesitates as he’s about to close the door behind him. “Coffee?”

“I can take some.”

The pastor nods and closes the door, leaving Aofil alone in the somewhat large office given to them for any last planning. Their lawyer sits at the other end, going through the case one last time, and making some final notes in his notebook. He’s been at it nonstop ever since. Obsessed, is the only word Aofil can use to describe his sheer devotion to this trial. All the way up until this point in time he’s been pulling threads more than a neurotic seamstress.

First thing he did was get that kid away from the monsters. Man oh man! That was some excellent drama! Absolutely top notch! The monsters had no ground to stand on, yet they implored to have the kid stay with them. The Underground must’ve had some gas leaking into it for them to even begin to think that they had a good reason to keep the kid.

“They saved us!” that one blue monster screamed, along with a passionate speech about how strong the kid was, and how much they had helped the monsters.

What a complete dingus.

Just gave the social services more of a reason to remove the child once they realized that the monsters had tried to kill them. The monsters are so disassociated that they tried to use the fact that the child defended itself as a reason for the kid to be kept in their care.

Absolute idiots.

They didn’t really get a lot out of the kid. No confession, no useful recollection. Didn’t even seem relieved not to be in the hands of people who’s first instinct wasn’t to kill them.

“It’s my family!” the kid had implored, almost to the point of going completely red in the face. “I want to go back! I have to save them!”

Guess Frisk is an orphan. How else would they bond so damn quickly? Bond so quickly with a race that wanted nothing but death for the child. May still want, who knows? Could be that the monsters are just using the child to score emotional points, and perhaps get some sympathy.

They won’t hold a candle to what Aofil has prepared though. They’re the only living relative of the first murdered human, after all. Their testimony is gonna be its weight worth in gold. On top of that they have all the insider information they could ever want through Flowey.

They know what happened with their summer home community. How they were attacked by the child of the royal couple of the monsters.

Fused souls? Like hell that the jury is gonna accept that as an explanation. If they do however, Flowey revealed that because such an event was possible, it sparked the conflict that lead to the monsters being sealed away. So if they want to play that card, then Aofil has prepared the counter argument.

The reason the monsters were locked away, the reason the humans decided on such a measure, is what killed Chara and the other children. It won’t be a defense for the monsters, it will be another weak point that they’ll willingly open themselves up to.

Aofil can see it playing out in their head. The fearful gasps, the stunned disbelief creeping over the monsters faces as they slowly realize how stupid they are. It warms Aofil down to their very core.

Or soul, as the monsters would call it.

Magic? Yeah right!

Aofil can’t wait for the monsters to try and explain that too. Explain the use of it, the how, and the why, they use it. Just gonna keep digging that hole with reasons why the monsters should be kept away.

Humans don’t know any magic. If so, then the world would be full of it by this point. Especially since humans can wield it even greater than monsters, and monster magic being powerful enough to kill human children, should the need be for everyone to be reminded. Aofil has no doubt that it will be needed. Not only to further their own cause, but to push down even further on the monsters.

They might be regretful, if Flowey is to be believed, but remorse shown won’t excuse them for murder. Serial murdering. Seven, bordering on eight. With the eight wanting to stay with the monsters.

Apparently that Frisk kid is nowhere to be found at the moment. They’ve been missing for a while now from the government’s humble care.

Lead everyone into the Underground, where the dead human children lay.

Aofil wasn’t present, but they sure wished they had been. Maybe not for the opening of the caskets with the rotten corpses, but to have seen Frisk’s, and the monsters faces, as the investigation started. Seven aces just given to the humans to use. The monsters really are an unbelievable bunch of fuckups.

And that Frisk kid going back to them all? They must be real thick in the head if they want to go back and risk getting killed again. One would think that almost being murdered would eclipse the fluffy appearance of the king and queen.

Guess not!

How did Frisk even escape to being with? The pastor described it as the kid being there one minute, and the next was nothing but an empty room. Doubly confusing was that the room had no windows, at least, no window that the kid could crawl out of. He did remember that the room smelled differently. What was it he said again?

“Fast food with every single kind of condiment imaginable, and then some!”

Something like that, yeah. Very peculiar.

There’s no hotdog stand, or similar, in the near vicinity of the building the kid escaped from, so where could that smell have come from?

Either way, it didn’t take an overflowing amount of manhours to guess where the child was. Are the monsters also extremely dumber than the humans, akin to how they say that the humans are more powerful than monster?

It’s either that, or that the poor kid hit their head when they fell down into the Underground. Only way to explain how they would ever try and make friends with an entire race wanting them dead. Come to think about it, did Chara also hit their head when they fell down?

Aofil carefully taps the back of the pot next to them. The face returns on the flower, and Aofil leans in close. “Did I hit my head when I fell down?” Aofil whispers into the flower.

“I think so,” the flower answers with a similar whisper using Aofil’s voice, as planned. Aofil can explain talking to the flower because it reminds them of their dead twin. Killed at the hands of the monsters, and this flower is the only thing that reminds Aofil of Chara. They want to have it with them everywhere they go. No one can really fault them for that. Might be a bit weird, but it’s harmless enough.

For the humans, that is.

Much easier than explaining to everyone that they meet that Aofil’s in possession of a magical monster flower that’s devoted to Chara, Aofil’s dead twin who’s name Aofil’s taking advantage off to spearhead this trial against the monsters.

“Why do you wonder?” wonders Flowey while, quickly, yet carefully, glancing over to make sure that the lawyer is still occupied. “You plan on using it?”

“Maybe,” Aofil answers under their breath. “Depends on how things play out. You still remember your part?”

The flower nods, but stops as it realizes as it shouldn’t really be doing it if it is to pretend to be a normal one. “I-I remember, Chara. Don’t worry, we’ll do this together!”

Aofil taps one of the petals gently, “Good!” and pushes the pot away. They watch to make sure that the flower’s face fades away.

“This might sound a bit heartless, but save your tears for the trial, Aofil.” the lawyer says before looking up from his papers. “I’m not one to tell you how to grieve, but please stay strong. At least until we can siphon some of that emotion onto the jury.”

“I will,” Aofil replies with a solemn nod.

The lawyer shoots Aofil a comforting smile before going back to his work.

Completely obsessed.

He hasn’t told Aofil exactly why, but Aofil can read between the lines. They got a feeling as to what’s going on. The same website Aofil used to check their own parents children also have the lawyer’s records, and his kid.

His missing kid, that is.

Aofil couldn’t exactly get the birth certificate or something similar, but they could read the public information about the lawyer, and his kid that’s missing. Presumed dead.

Sounds very familiar.

Which one was his kid? Which number? Chara was the first, that much Aofil can gather. Which one the lawyer’s kid was is a bit more trickier though. They can’t really ask the lawyer outright, and again, they couldn’t access more details on the government’s website.

Revenge is a good motivator, and the lawyer seems to be all for that. The exact number isn’t really necessary, the important motivator is that it happened in the first place. Or second, or third, etc. Chara was in the first, again.

A parent’s only chance to enact justice for the death of his child. A death by the monsters hands. The smack he’s about to lay down on said monsters fingers is gonna echo throughout the entire country. Maybe even the world. Aofil’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

The door opens, and the pastor enters with a tray containing some sandwiches and cups of coffee. He places one of each next to the lawyer, who thanks the pastor, even though his mind being deeper inside the papers than what the monster were, and hopefully will be again, in the Underground.

The pastor doesn’t seem at all phased by the absent thanks, and he seats himself opposite of Aofil, handing over a steaming cup of coffee with one hand, and a decent sandwich with his other. Aofil takes the two items, and places them in front of them.

“You on your way to tend to your choir?” Aofil asks after a couple of bites of their food. “Preaching is a virtue in your job, after all.”

“Virtue is seldom found inside these halls of justice,” the pastor replies after a sip of his coffee. “If justice was true, and if the monsters had some to spare, they’d blow this whole ordeal over. Confess to everything, and plead for mercy. As it stands, they seem to be quite vocal about this trial.”

The pastor nods towards the flower.

“It’s quite amazing how much they’ve refused to compromise,” he ends with a smile forming on his lips.

“Yup!” Aofil lets their lips smack together. “Sure is. To finally get some answers after those agonizing years spent not knowing the fate of my dear twin, whom I held so dear the few moments we spent together. The horror they must’ve spent in that prison. Being cuddled to be made an example. They were nothing but propaganda to these monsters. Taken into the quote, care, unquote, of the king and queen, just as a toy for their prince.”

The lawyer looks up as the sound of ceramic being scraped on wood cuts his ear. Aofil waves with an innocent smile, and points to their coffee cup. The lawyer seems a bit surprised to find one on his own desk, along with a sandwich. He clears some papers away as to reduce the damage should he spill the hot liquid. After a long sip, he continues working while softly mumbling to himself.

Aofil snaps their head towards Flowey, who scrunched himself up so hard that he moved his pot. “What are you doing?” they harshly whisper.

“S-s-sorry,” he whispers back. “I-It j-just...”

“We went through this!” Aofil lifts up the flower’s face up towards theirs using two of their fingers. “Don’t get cold feet now that we’re so close!”

“I-I won’t! I s-swear, Chara.”

“Good.” With a careful yet determined push, Aofil shoves the flower’s face away from them. “We’re so close now, and I’m going through with this with, or without you. It’s your choice here, Flowey. Make it.”

“I-I know...Sorry. I’m with y-you, Chara. I’ll always be.”

The flower’s face fades away.

The monster’s been getting more and more anxious. It’s been speaking up towards Aofil more frequently. They just need it for a little while longer, it’s already done the majority of its part. It’s ability to mimic the king and queen’s voices have been to some great usefulness these last weeks. Indecisive bunch, first they reject, then they accept. First the king says no, and then the queen says yes. Then the king wonders why the queen said yes, and the queen replies by stating that it was the king that said yes.

They’re already in turmoil, and the trial hasn’t even started yet. Aofil can’t help but to be genuinely impressed by the accuracy this monster flower next to them is capable of. They can’t let the flower know of it though. Aofil almost let it slip once, and it began staring hopefully into the horizon. Aofil needs it here though, in the present, in the moment. If it starts daydreaming it might get second thoughts, and ruin this entire plan of Aofil’s. They’ve been yearning for this day since the date had been set in stone.

Aofil can’t really speak for how the monsters...Wait, yes they can, they’ve been doing it through Flowey! Anyways, the monsters can think whatever they want about this trial for all Aofil care. Best case would be that they’re shaking in their boots, or paws, or whatever, at the moment. They will be rattling like aspen leafs in a storm once they exit this court, that’s for sure though.

“You heading out soon?” Aofil asks the pastor with a quick nod towards the door. “I’ve no fear that the trial is gonna go anything but rapid downhill for the monsters, but what is a wound without a mountain of salt poured into it, father?”

“Monsters don’t bleed, Aofil,” the pastor reminds with a friendly wag of his finger.

“Oh they will once this gets started. And they should still get wounds, right? Unless they seem fine until just collapsing into a pile of dust.”

“I suppose so. Don’t think the crowd outside will need much convincing once I get out there, by the way. You could probably pop the bubble that’s growing outside just by blinking hard towards it.”

“And here you are, father, bringing with you a spear to burst the bubble as best as you can.”

An amused chortle escapes the pastor. “A spear of justice?” He shakes his head while scoffing through his teeth. “I guess you can call it that.”

With a faded sigh, the pastor’s cheeks are tugged into a faithful and content smile. “It’s funny. When I met you at your parents grave some days after the monsters broke the barrier, I honestly thought that you would align yourself with them.”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods, “you told me back then.”

“I did?” The pastor searches his mind. “You sure? Oh well, you’ve completely ran my disbelieves away by this point. You might not remember your twin, or the way you were before. Perhaps it’s for the better, but that doesn’t excuse the monsters. What they did to Chara and the other huma-”

A pen snaps violently behind the pastor. He turns around carefully to see the lawyer flying out of his chair.

“Sorry!” the lawyer huffs while scrambling to move as many papers away from the pooling ink as he possibly can. He puts a heavy head inside the palm of his other hand that’s not stained from the ink leaked from the now halved pen. He exhales an unsteady sigh that transitions into a faint sob.

“Maybe you should rest for a bit while you have the chance,” the pastor suggest with a warm and soothing voice.

“I can’t!” the lawyer says while squeezing his hand tightly around his forehead and eyes. “I have to-”

“You won’t be able to if you’re exhausted!” the pastor interrupts with a heightened volume to his voice. It’s still calming, but his implore shakes the room. His eyes are fixated on the lawyer, half cursing his stubbornness, and half begging that the lawyer will hear reason.

The lawyer exhales a long and deep heave.

“Aofil can clean up, right?” the pastor asks of Aofil with a pleading hand. “Find yourself somewhere to sleep for an hour. You’ll need your strength if you’re to hear what happened to your son.”

The lawyer agrees with a subtle nod. “I should. Thank you, father.” He leaves the room while massaging his forehead. A final sob makes it through the small glimpse just before the door is closed.

“You think he’ll be ready?” Aofil wonders out loud.

“He will.” The pastor turns back to Aofil with a reassuring smile. “And I’m going to ask you the same question.”

“I will,” Aofil answers without a second’s thought.

“I’m glad to hear that, Aofil.” The pastor puts a hand on the top of his backrest. “I’m heading out to meet the people outside. They’ll be ready once the trial starts, should you need them. Before I go I do want to mention how relieved I am still that your...curse...is on our side. The red soul truly is a powerful one. Move mountains with yours, Aofil. Or at least Ebott.”

Aofil nods. They’re not exactly clear what the whole soul business is, but they’ve decided to humor the pastor, and by extent the monsters, regardless. Theirs being the same as Chara’s is gonna be a nice ace for them.

With a quick wave goodbye, the pastor leaves Aofil alone in the office.

Well, not exactly alone.

“C-Chara?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder as they walk over to fetch some paper towels for the spilled coffee on the lawyer’s desk. “Yes?”

The flower leans side to side impatiently, trying its best to stay collected. It fails miserably. “H-how sure are you about this?”

Aofil rolls out a dozen or so squares of paper towels. “Absolutely.” They rip the squares free and carry them over to the stained desk.

“How absolutely s-sure are you?”

Didn’t the flower hear Aofil? “Absolutely sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y-yeah...you see…that’s w-what I’m wondering. D-don’t you remember anything good from when you and I were together?”

Did it really have to use the word ‘together’? “What do you mean? Did you have a cru-”

“No!” the flower spurts out. Cheeks blushing almost as bright as Aofil’s. “N-no, t-that was the wrong word. I m-meant, when we lived with the king and queen.”

“Wasn’t that with Asriel?” Aofil shoots back along with a raised eyebrow. They start cleaning up the coffee that’s dangerously close to start dropping down onto the carpet below. “And you’re Flowey, right?”

“Y-yeah...I am. Still...” The flower looks away. “I j-just want to be sure that you’re a hundred percent sure about this.”

Aofil sends a quick scoff over their shoulder. “I’ve been a hundred percent from the get go. Why are you bringing this up at this point in time? And again?”

“We’ve both changed, Chara. This whole ordeal, with you being alive, and the trial against the monsters, and everything else, it’s all so sudden. If you compare it to the amount of time I was alone, it’s like a second to a week. Maybe even a month. Year. Eternity!”

Aofil hushes the monsters before anyone comes and asks what all this yelling is about. They snap a harsh finger towards the flower. “You have cold feet, I get that. We can’t jump ship now though, and why would we? Theirs is about to sink like a rock, and there will be no rescue boat sent out for the monsters.”

“I know! It’s just...”

“Are you with me?” Aofil asks with a slight worry to their tone. All conjured up, of course. They know how to work this monster, and they’re not gonna stop now.

“I am!”

“Good.” Aofil nods with a gentle smile. “Then that’s the last we’ll discuss about that.”

“Y-yeah. I understand, Chara.”

It’s the last Aofil is gonna discuss with Flowey period, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not now, they still got a trial to get through. But afterwards? Well, the trial is about the monsters being repented back to where they belong.

And what is Flowey not, but a monster?


	101. End of the first

“W-we d-did it, Chara!”

Pathetic.

“The m-monsters will never recover from this! T-they barely stayed comprehensible. I m-mean, it w-was fair for both s-sides, right?”

Weak.

“It’s n-not like I doubted you. Never, not for one second. I just feel so relieved that it worked! That it’s over!”

Unworthy.

“C-Chara?”

In the way.

“Chara?”

KILL!

“How are you?”

Aofil shakes their head. How did it go this wrong?

“Y-you did your creepy smile again.”

Their entire body is pulsating. Uncomfortably warm. Aofil can feel every single heartbeat of theirs echo throughout their bones and muscles. Every thump is as loud as a bomb. Pushing against their skull from the inside.

This kangaroo trial!

Such disgusting injustice!

“C-Chara?”

The monsters got off scot free! Their punishment was nothing more than a slap on their fingers! They’re still walking out of the courtroom by their own volition, on their own legs! That’s not enough!

“I told you that it was a bad idea to let the monsters show the magic on you, Chara. That lawyer didn’t know what he was talking about. It was a stupid idea of him to suggest you like that.”

Is that so? Is that what this monster thinks?

“Your cover was almost blown. What if the king and queen had found out that you were you, and not your twin? The lawyers reason for sending you up there was stupid. Even if the magic they surrounded you with was hurtful, and even if that meant the jury instantly caving to you.”

A monster calling a human’s idea stupid?

“They don’t deserve to know that you’re still alive, Chara! I won’t allow it! It’s just you and me, like it was always meant to be. And now...finally...”

What an idiot.

“We’ll be together on the Surface!”

A pathetic, worthless monster.

“C-Chara?”

So weak.

“W-why are you laughing?”

If it is what the monsters said, that one human soul is worth all the monster souls combined.

“Quiet! Someone might come!”

Then one human murdered is enough for the entirety of monsterkind.

“C-Chara!”

And they’ve killed seven!

“P-please, you’re scaring me!”

Aofil snaps their eyes on the flower cowering on the table inside its cheap and cracked pot. Sobbing fearfully. Just as it should. It feels it, Aofil knows. It feels their power, their determination. It’s flowing like the blood in their veins. Reaching out to each and every cell in Aofil.

The monsters wanted to show that their magic was harmless to humans, wanted to demonstrate it during the trial. What they didn’t account for was that their magic might’ve been harmless to humans, but not to themselves.

It did something to Aofil. It opened their eyes. They’ve always known how weak the monsters were, but they’ve never realized, physically realized. Their magic has shown Aofil that, should they choose, they can wipe the monsters away with less than minimal effort.

Aofil’s drunk with this vision, this realization of why the Barrier was created. It was not to protect the humans, it was to protect the monsters. Now that they’ve escaped, and now that there is no way for the humans to reconstruct the Barrier, there is only one way forward.

This curse that Aofil bears, it was labeled such after the Barrier was erected, according to the pastor’s testimony during the trial. It was a curse during a time without monsters. Now that the monsters have returned, Aofil’s destined to show the humans that they are a blessing.

Chara showed that a human couldn’t live with the monsters, and the six other kids were extensive proof of that.

The king spoke of hatred, spoke of being blinded by fear and anger, imploring to not make the mistakes he did.

He didn’t speak such out of kindness though. He failed to enact his revenge. He was too weak and feeble to go through with his actions, yet six children weren’t enough for him!

Worst of all, the jury bought it. The jury swallowed his sob story, his disgusting lies. The tears of monsters fell like waterfalls, waterfalls of deception.

How can there be mutual understanding? Mutilated, both the children the monsters killed, and the deceiving begging they did towards the jury. When the children begged for mercy down in the Underground, they weren’t granted any, yet here the king expects...No, demands, mercy to be show to him and his subjects! The other monsters plucked the same note, and before Aofil realized it, it was over.

Hands were shook, smiles were exchanged. Pleasant smiles, relieved smiles. Smiles that promised a joint future.

A joint future was the reason Chara died! The reason Aofil almost died!

The monsters again with their blasted tears, and their disgusting ways of molding what Aofil said into offering forgiveness. The lawyer’s betrayal, siding with the unfair ‘compromise’ that was set upon after the exhausting hours inside that damned courtroom.

The flower jitters fearfully as Aofil throws their fist down on the table.

There has to be a way for Aofil to show everyone what liars and murderers the monsters are! There has to be something they can do! They don’t have much time either! The monsters are about to hold a speech to the crowd outside. Aofil needs to stop them, but how?

“C-Chara?”

Wait! Aofil may not be able to stop it, but maybe they themselves don’t have to?

“Flowey,” Aofil says.

“Yes?”

“You’ll help me, right?”

“Yes!”

“Good, because we’re not done with the monsters.”

The flower’s eyes move side to side, frantically. “We’re not?” it asks with a shaky voice.

“Absolutely not!” The words trickle from Aofil’s lips like the most vile of poison. They’re not done! Not until the monsters have payed for what they’ve done. Payed for slaughter.

The door is knocked on carefully, and in comes the pastor. He stops in the door frame, staring at Aofil’s hunched over position, and deep, angry breathing.

“How are they?” Aofil asks as they lock eye contact with the pastor.

“W-who?” the pastor asked, a bit taken back by the sudden stare. His posture relaxes after a second though, and he closes the door behind him. “The monsters?”

Aofil’s head jerks to the side at that horrific word.

“The monsters are preparing to hold a press conference in a couple of minutes,” the pastor explains, “but I’m sure you already know of that.” He leans forward, almost as if he wants to get closer to Aofil. “They are,” he takes a deep breath, and stops talking. His face scrunches up into a variety of emotions, blending in and out, interweaving together, causing his wrinkles to loosen and contract multiple times per second.

He finally exhales after a short chortle to himself. As he opens his eyes, his eyebrows harden into a determined furrow.

“Aofil,” he speaks gently. “Is this you?” he asks, almost as if he’s congratulating Aofil. He doesn’t wait for an answer, and instead tucks his clamped hands under his chin. A knowing smile explodes from his jaw, and he nods. “Determination,” the pastor whispers to himself, “I never thought I’d feel it. Nevertheless emanating from another human to this extent. Your soul must be strong, Aofil. The crimson heart beats within you.”

Aofil puts their hand over their chest. Warm, pulsating. Like their cheeks. Burning with determination. Burning with what the monsters can never imagine to feel. Now the monsters are outside, proclaiming that they’re entitled to it. Entitled to be just as the humans that tower above them. They need to be reminded of their place in the world. The humans need to be reminded how high above they really are!

Aofil needs to remind their fellow humans, what I means to be human.

“Your choir is waiting for you outside, Aofil. Speak your red heart’s desire, and they will listen. They will lend you their ears, their hands, and their souls. They will walk with you to the ends of the world, lead them there. I’ll be there when the time comes.”

Aofil scoffs. The pastor sure likes to spruce up to the point of grandiose. Aofil’s not gonna rebuke him though, for amid all that theatrical fluff, he’s got a point. If justice can’t be served in the so called house of justice, then Aofil needs to make it happen themselves, and they know just how to do it.

Aofil taps the flower pot with a knuckle. “Flowey,” they say, “you got some more talking to do on the monster’s behalf.”

“I-if you say so,” Flowey responds with a weak nod.

Aofil wraps their fingers around the pot. “No.” They lift it up. “You’re saying so,” they wink.

A small giggle escapes Flowey, but it’s hesitant to even be audible.

Aofil leaves the pastor alone in the room with a small nod as a goodbye. They head out towards the main entrance, but it’s closed, and with a couple of security personnel guarding it.

“My fellow humans,” comes a loud and deep voice from outside. It’s the king’s! “Many of you have come here in hope of finding vengeance, to find revenge for the terrible things that have happened since our imprisonment, and the separation of our species.”

Dammit! He’s already started! No matter, Aofil can figure something out around it.

Aofil slinks off to the side, out through a side door, but as they try and go around the corner, they spot a pair of upright dogs standing with polearms crossed, blocking access to an elevated wooden platform. Their hooded appearance fail to hide their large muzzles, moving slowly over to Aofil’s way.

The muzzles wrinkle, and one of the guards puts up a large paw. “An audience with the king will follow after his speech, please register with Undyne, the head of the Royal Guard.” The guard moves its paw over to the side, pointing over to a large queue of press folk in front of a blue colored monster frantically writing as fast as it can. Next to it is a smaller, and fatter, yellow monster, writing just as fast.

“Can you kill them? The guards?” Aofil asks to the flower in their hands. “Don’t move, just say yes if you can.”

No answer.

“Flowey, I asked you a-”

“Yes,” the flower answers without emotion. “Just get me close.”

“Can you fill up the robes with your vines afterwards? Make it seem like they’re still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Aofil walks up to the guards.

“Human, we told you th-”

The large dog bends over.

“Dogges-”

And the other follows shortly after.

Aofil looks down at Flowey in their hands. Two large vines are extended from him, towards the guards. Aofil follows the vines with their eyes, seeing that they’ve impaled the two dogs in their respective throats.

The dogs muzzle start to shake with fear, and as their features start to fade away, and turn to dust, they give one last look towards each other.

They try to speak, but not a sound escapes them.

Flowey makes sure of that.

Their pained and panicked expression softens, like an old water stain on a piece of paper, and it’s not long before they collapse. Two clouds of glittering and pale dust bursts up as the pile that’s left of the two guards crash on the concrete ground.

Their robes and weapons barely have time to move as Flowey fills in the hollow fabric and vacant grip with vine twisted into the shape of the guards that just a moment before inhabited the clothes and commanded the weapons. The two marionettes takes a step forward in conjunction, obscuring the dust from any outside viewer.

“Done,” Flowey says.

Aofil barely hears him. Enthralled, they can only stare at the iridescent shards still hovering in the air. They stretch out one hand to feel it.

Dust. What a monster truly is. Just dust. Nothing but a miserable pile of weakness and pathetic. Aofil feels a smile tug at their lips. A grin, eager for more.

Aofil’s fingers eagerly, and with borderline perversion, rub together the dust stuck in their hand. All the way out to their very claws. What was not but a breath ago a monster is now hanging like crystal snow off the fur on Aofil’s hand. They blow on it, and it flutters away.

The warmth inside them grows, and surges through their body like a crashing wave on a golden beach. The rushing blood through their ears sounds just like the wave receding from the sand.

Aofil bends down, and scoops up a handful of dust in their hand. So soft, so clean. The despair the monsters felt just before they died is still present, the last emotion they felt. The feeling is intense, like how carbonation would be, should it be physical. Tickling, almost.

Aofil lets the dust flow between their fingers, like the sands of time, but the dust of monsters. Just as the first is always spilling, always rushing like the largest and most violent of waterfalls, so too shall Aofil make the latter.

The king still speaks of cooperation, of trust, yet he hasn’t shown any. Demanding fully, despite not putting it forward first, not showing that he’s willing to sacrifice. There’s no respect shown for the sea of unmistakably more powerful beings before him. Such arrogance! How dumb does he think that the humans are? To believe that humans are so gullible to eat it up would be...

Why aren’t the crowd booing? Why are they not erupting, collecting their voices to curse this wretched king’s tongue?

Aofil takes a leap up the stairs leading up to the wooden platform the dogs were guarding. Their haste almost has Flowey dragging with him his puppets, but he’s quick enough to make them only flinch, and regain their balance just a second afterwards.

They have to find a way to shut off the microphone, and a way to reroute it to Flowey so that he can speak what the king truly means.

Aofil halts just before rounding the court building’s corner. They’re just a few steps from the monsters as the king stops speaking. He turns around, and beckons for someone behind him. He then leans into the microphone again.

“I’d like you present to you, the human that saved us all, the human that brought hope, and showed us monsters back here to the Surface.”

A small child, wearing a purple and blue striped sweater, emerges from behind Asgore’s cape. It steps up to the podium, looking over the crowd that stretches the entire parking lot. A wall of vans stand at the end of the lot, but there are still people behind it, Aofil sees.

“My name...is Fr-”

Aofil looks back at the podium, at the child staring back at them. Their face is frozen, and rapidly draining of color. Violent convulsions follow shortly after, and the child pushes away from the podium while grimacing in pain.

The king behind the child reaches over, and puts one of his hands on the child’s shoulder.

“Nothing to fear, Frisk.”

There’s a thick quiet hanging in the air. Aofil can hear whispering from the crowd. Unease, uncertainty, uncomfortable. Seeds of doubt.

Perfect.

“No!”

The whispers are shut silent as the child whips around, and with all its might, shoves the king’s hand away from them. They back off in fear with their head snapping from monster to monster.

This is it! The single moment Aofil needs!

But what about Flowey?

No, Aofil doesn’t need his voice anymore. Not when they have a human to use instead of a measly monster. They do need his body one last time.

“Remove your vines from the robes, Flowey!” Aofil whispers harshly. The flower turns around to ask why, but Aofil shuts it down with a mad glare. The flower obeys, but before it again can ask why, Aofil moves the pot up to their face.

They lean into the flower.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh!”

When they feel one of its thorns dig deep into their chin, they shove the pot backwards while throwing their head forwards.

Their pained yell steals the attention from the child, the monsters behind the podium, and the crowd.

“Chara?! What are y-” the flower again tries to ask, but fails to for the last time. Aofil throws the pot with all their might against the monsters, and emerge into the spotlight from behind the curtains.

The flower pot smashes just before the king’s feet, sending shards of old ceramic flying in all directions. The dirt seeps between the cracks in the wooden floor, and the flower tumbles out violently.

Hot blood is pouring down the gash on Aofil’s cheek as they rush forward towards the child. It’s too petrified to even move as Aofil wraps their arms around it to try and protect it from the monsters. It’s drained and quivering stare and heavy breathing is the only indications of the child being alive.

“They attacked me!” Aofil shouts to the people in the crowd. “One of the monsters have been disguised as a flower this entire time, and now that the trial is over it tried to kill me!”

Aofil throws an accusatory finger towards the flower writhing on the planks before the monsters. “It’s been with me all this time, during all the time we’ve spent building our case. It’s been spying for the monsters!”

The collective heads of the crowd turn to the monsters. Aofil sees the king and queen flinch violently. The two large monsters look down on the flower desperately trying to catch its bearings, over to Aofil dragging Frisk, with their hands pressed firmly against their shaking head, away, and back to the crowd.

“That’s why they got away!” Aofil screams at the top of their lungs. “That’s why the kids they murdered will never have justice! That’s why my twin will never rest peacefully!”

The king and queen’s head shoot back to Aofil, mouths hanging open in scared confusion.

“You monsters killed Chara!”

The hanging mouths slam close in an instant, as the king and queen buckle from the words Aofil’s throwing at them. The monsters take strain on the podium, and it almost breaks from the weight.

“You killed my twin, and then you-”

Frisk is janked from Aofil’s arms, as an armor wielding monsters sprints by them. It’s the blue one from the registration table! How dare!

The monster places Frisk next to the king and queen, before turning back to Aofil.

“Human!” the monsters shouts. She flexes her wrist, and a cyan spear forms. The light and crackling from it sends a wave of gasps throughout the crowd. “Where are the guards that stood on the way here?” The monsters lifts her spear against Aofil. “Did you kill them?”

How would she even begin to challenge a human? Arrogant monster! That armor won’t do it any good! It won’t even-

Aofil’s focus is torn away from the huffing monster, and towards the crowd. Above it, and moving quickly towards the podium, is a jagged rock rotating rhythmically in the air. Aofil follows it with their eyes with increasing eagerness. How it nears the collapsed king and queen more and more with each passing second until...

The rock smashes against the queen’s head, whipping it backwards forcibly. The stone bounces off with a deep thud, and with a trail of dust on, and behind it. The soft sound of the impact, combined with the pained howl of the queen, rumbles the wooden structure beneath Aofil.

The blue monsters turns around, calling out for the queen. “Queen Toriel!”

In that moment, Aofil takes the lunge. The king and queen are wide open!

“Oh no, you don’t!” screams the blue monsters as it whips around, and just barely catching Aofil with a forceful grip as Aofil tries to sprint past it. It sweeps Aofil’s legs with its own. “Punk!”

Aofil braces for the landing, but they’re caught mid air by the armored monster that’s now behind them. The handle of its spear goes up against their throat, holding them down.

“They’re trying to kill them!” comes a voice from the crowd. Aofil smiles as the words reach their ears.

It’s the pastor.

What was it he said again? About Aofil’s soul?

Determination. Aofil needs to focus it. They need to let their Crimson Heart beat louder than ever! Aofil closes their eyes. They focus on the warm feeling inside them. Spread it out! They have to spread it out! Let it go through their head, their fingers, their toes! Everywhere! They let their heart beat as everyone’s! With each thud, they see the crowd getting angrier. With each thud, they see the crowd realizing. With each thud, they realize that Aofil’s spoken what they’ve wanted to say. Each thud has them realizing more and more that Aofil’s voice is theirs. Aofil’s mouth will speak their words.

Now Aofil just have to say the words, and their fate will be reality.

“Kill them!”

A bottle comes flying, and not from the pastor. This time it smashes against the monster trying to subdue Aofil. Shards of broken glass hang in the air, just like the ceramic pieces off the flower’s pot. The blue monster stumbles backwards, and Aofil manages to struggle loose.

“Dirty tricks! How dare you, human?” roars the armored monster.

Aofil pays it no mind though. Their eyes are on someone else. The monster that’s hunched over, desperately trying to hold his queen together. Desperately trying to wake her up.

Pathetic.

Aofil bends one arm down to catch the jagged neck of the bottle thrown.

Weak.

The child looks over the now trampling crowd closing rapidly in towards the podium stand. The roars from it is deafening.

Unworthy.

Aofil’s reflection is revealed as the king realizes that they’re closing in. His cape is brushed aside, showing his polished breastplate.

In the way.

Aofil’s grizzled muzzle is grinning. Their cheeks are glowing. Aofil’s horns almost bend forward in excitement. Wrapped inside their clawed fingers is the first strike for the justice of the humans. For now, only their arm is dusted by the remains of the monsters, only a few particles are dancing from the wind on their snow white fur.

KILL!

Aofil takes the leap, closing in on the king with the bottle raised high to secure the first strike. Their red eyes reflect like two glistening stars in the king’s plate. They descent with a fury unlike any seen by monsters since the war before the Barrier. Aofil’s weapon is thrown down against the exposed throat, and-


	102. The wake of wakening

“What...what happened? Where am I?”

“oh, you’re awake. how was your trip down memory lane, aof? you managed to bring any postcards back? maybe some about the dreemurrs and that you’ve now slept away all the drama between you and them? tell me about your travels, aof, i’m all ears. we got time, don’t worry.”

“Who’s there? Why are...”

“you look absolutely horrible, aof. i’m not even exaggerating, if anything i’m understating. nothing a good shower won’t fix though. maybe some tea and a slice of snail pie afterwards. yes, that is indeed an excellent idea, aof. i’ll fetch a slice for myself.”

A gentle breeze brushes against Aofil’s face.

Who’s voice was that? Aofil feels that they should know who it is. Yet, they can’t put their finger on it. They can barely open their eyes. Everything feels so heavy. That gentle breeze almost knocked them out. Aofil’s head is spinning. Thoughts are crashing into each others in their head. Memories, about the same time, but about different things. Laughs, screams, cries, both of pain, and mourning, they all blend together like a horrible symphony straight from hell. What does it all mean? What’s real? What isn’t?

It’s all so confusing, it’s all so strange, yet familiar, yet so far away. Close enough for Aofil to cower from the impending tide of cognitive mishmash. It’s at the same time too long gone that Aofil’s feels vertigo even considering reaching out to it. They feel...they feel…

Another gust of wind appears.

“bucket, right next to you.”

Aofil bumps the metal container with their elbow as they flail their arms to their sides, and then shove it under their head. Their stomach and throat surges violently from all the ruckus in their mind, and they heave until they feel drained of the smallest drop of liquid.

“well now you’ve gone and ruined my appetite here, aof. probably for the better though, don’t want to ruin this perfect beach body i’ve worked on all year. gotten a lot of practice snoozing while papyrus cooks, so i’ll have no problem sleeping with the salty wind in my face. not that big of a difference, actually.”

Aofil collapses back down on their back. A third wind appears. Where are they? A fourth wind returns shortly after.

“convulse violently if you want another bucket underneath your head.”

Just a moment ago they were about to strike at…No, it wasn’t them that wanted to strike? Aofil’s a human, so why did they see a monster in the reflection from Asgore’s plate armor? It looked...it looked like when Aofil fused with Asriel all those years ago. Yet, Aofil felt in control, they felt like every action was their own. Why did they want to strike at Asgore though?

He’s a monster.

Yes, but…

A monster!

Aofil’s been around monsters plenty, so why? There’s something nipping at the back of their mind though. They’re...angry at them. Angry at the monsters, because of reasons. What kind of reasons, Aofil can’t pinpoint. What kind of anger is it too? Is it hate, or is it...hate?

Aargh! It’s not the same! Aofil’s, somewhat, sure about that! They’re angry, they’re livid, but it’s not because of the same reason. They want to…they want to? What do they want?

“this snail pie is really good, by the way. toriel’s outdone herself, again.”

There’s loud chewing.

“found my appetite! it rolled under the bucket full of your puke. it is however rolling away yet again now that i said ‘puke’, but i’m gonna say ‘freshly picked snails and delicious crust’ and have it roll right back.”

More loud chewing.

“ah yes, there it is.”

That insane grin, exposing glistening white teeth underneath equally glistening white fur, and gritted in a determined smile. Aofil remembers feeling it on their lips, but it wasn’t their lips? It was a muzzle grinning like a demon possessed them, but it wasn’t them!

Slurps of liquid followed by a quenched exhale interrupts Aofil in their thoughts.

“no tea, i’m afraid. water’s nice though. you thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

Aofil’s voice is like gravel poured onto a desert.

Wait! Why did Aofil answer?! The voice is a monster! He…he is a monster. Aofil’s angry at the monsters! Yet, they answered. Without hesitation. Without even thinking. This monster, is a monster.

Yes, but he’s a monster though.

Aofil feels their forehead wrinkle. What?

And who is it?

“just hold your hand out, aof. don’t mumble into the water.”

Aofil stretches their hand out, and a glass is nestled between their fingers. They caress it, and it suddenly gains weight.

“please forgive my usage of magic. i’m not gonna be in arm’s reach of you right now. not because you look horrible, and smell just as you look. well, a bit because of that, not gonna lie. not again, that is. it’s not the main reason though.”

Aofil can’t help but feel betrayed by themselves. The reason why they can’t figure out. It’s all starting to become hazy. The reasons why their anger just were, and why it’s fading away.

“drink, aof. you have to be parched. first you were porched, what with falling asleep in the sun chair, and now you’re parched. you think if you slept some more that you’d loop back to the end of the alphabet and become pyrched?”

Oh yeah! That’s Sans.

Aofil feels their sudden smile fall into a tired frown.

Oh no! It’s Sans.

“ah, so you do remember me, aof! i’d recognize that tired sigh and or grunt anywhere. still not gonna come closer. you still look like you wanna take a swing at me, again. so i’m not gonna come up and hug you just yet unless i’m sure you’ve cooled down. you still smell like you took a long vacation in the garbage dump. just so that you’re perfectly aware of that, because i certainly am.”

Aofil moves the glass up to their mouth. They feel this headache grow all of a sudden. They slowly raise the glass up to their lips. Their lips seem to be a bit stuck together though, and Aofil opens their mouth wider.

Like splitting a drawn line by ripping the paper apart, Aofil’s lips open up like an old and rusty zipper. Fused skin pops off their lower lips, and follows the upper lip.

The glass falls out of Aofil’s hand.

“when i said cooled down, aof, i didn’t mean literally. also-”

The loud coughs and pained inhales interrupts Sans mid sentence. Aofil flies upright, rubbing their lips, and flinching as they scrape their now exposed flesh. Their teeth instinctively move down to their lower lip to cope with the pain, but it only results in more burning agony. They can taste blood.

And still they can’t open their damn eyes! There’s so much gunk, it’s like glue. To top it all off, their entire chest is doused in ice cold water. Everything they tried to make sense of is no longer important! Their mind is backseated for now! Their body takes screaming priority!

“What the fuck is happening!”

Aofil violently rubs their eyes, but each rub is like dragging their knuckle through gravel. They’re trying to excavate their eyes using nothing but their bare hands, when what they feel like they need is heavy machinery!

“you want a refill to wash them off?”

Aofil shoots their arm out towards the voice. “Yes!”

“did you just take a swing at me?”

Not now!

“Sans. I can’t fucking see!”

“and you want me to enable you to see? so that you can hit me more easily?”

God fucking dammit!

“Sans! I swear!”

“not really improving my suspicions with that, aof!”

Oh for-

Aofil presses their fingers against the eyelids, and with some careful, and extremely uncomfortable, pulling, their eyes snap open. The world is a messy blur for a good while before Aofil finally manages to see properly.

“quite the eye opening experience.”

Carefully, very, very, carefully, Aofil plucks what gunk they can from their eyelashes. It’s rock solid.

“a proper shower might be better for you.”

With one hand busy with its respective eye, Aofil swirls around to the skeleton leaned back, out of reach, in a chair. A plate filled with crumbs sits on his lap, and a fork’s handle is hanging out of the permanent smile. “just an idea, that’s all,” the skeleton says with a slight shrug. “i don’t think the royals will mind. in fact,” Sans moves the fork to the other side of his mouth, indicating towards a chair on the far side of the room, “there are some clothes there for you to wear afterwards.”

Aofil follows where the fork is pointing with their one open eye. On the chair is indeed a pile of clothes. Purple in color. Royal purple. Aofil can also see the outlines of a white symbol in the folds.

“this is me betting that you’re back to normal here, aof. if you’d be so kind and not make me regret that, i’d be very grateful.”

“Is this the Dreemurrs house?” Aofil asks as they peel the sheets off their clingy clothes. Sweaty, stinky, stuck, super in need of a wash and a shower.

“ay!” Sans exclaims. The fork in his mouth falls out, but he catches it with his hand. “you can say their name. fantastic, that’s step one done! might be the easiest step though, considering what you’re about to do.”

Oh yeah?

“And what would that be?” Aofil shoots with a sarcastic undertone louder than their inquisitive tone.

“talk with them about everything so that you can move back. i’ve already bought a balloon for the housewarming party. well, to be fair, i found it,” the skeleton admits with a spinning motion of his wrist. “nevertheless, i’m saving it for the party.”

Aofil’s knees feel like two bags of coarse sand, but they’re holding them upright. Barely. It feels a bit better once their blood starts circulating through them though.

“Don’t inflate it just yet,” Aofil advises the skeleton as they carefully walk over to the chair with the clothes. A stumble has them almost falling over, but they catch themselves on the chair’s back. With one arm, Aofil scoops up the clothes, and heads towards the door. “Where’s the shower?” they ask Sans.

“just like that? not even gonna tell me about what you’ve experienced?”

“I feel horrible, I look horrible, I smell horrible. My head’s a fucking mess. I need a shower first and foremost. Like, right now, or else I’m gonna climb up the walls and scream until I pass out,” Aofil makes very clear with a face that’s too tired to show any emotion whatsoever.

“fair enough,” Sans shrugs. “you want me to show where’s the shower?” he then says with a proud smile.

Aofil sighs. “Yes.”

“down the hall, to your left.”

“Anyone else home?” Aofil asks before opening the door.

“don’t know. i’ve been busy watching over you.”

“For how long?” Aofil says, despite not really wanting to know the answer.

“a while.”

Aofil finds that hard to believe. The way Sans said it, there’s a lot behind that. “So you’ve been with me all the time?” Aofil guesses.

“oh no.” Sans waves his hand in disbelief. “don’t be silly. we’ve rotated guard duty.”

“Right. Who’s we?”

“we,” Sans repeats. He stretches his arms out while tilting his head. “you remember who ‘we’ are, right?”

“The gang?”

Sans’ brow sinks a bit as he runs the word through his head. “the gang? i guess you could call it that.” Judging by the tone of his voice, he’s not really convinced.

“And what would you call ‘we’ then?” Aofil wonders with a tilt of their own head.

“friends.”

There’s a silence between the two, causing Sans to withdraw his arms, and his brow to sink further. “alright then,” he whispers, leaning back in his chair with a disappointed look on his face.

“Sans-”

“no, you don’t have to say anything, aof. your mind is a jumble, i get that. however,” Sans punctuates with a harshness Aofil’s never heard from him before, “here’s the thing. your memories came back to haunt you because they became relevant somehow. from what frisk’s have said, during the first reset you were...like your twin. riddle me this then, aof, why was that relevant to you? the memories. why did you have to use the memory box?”

Aofil’s grip hardens on the door handle. How dare this monster question them!? How dare-

No!

Aofil pushes a hand up to their forehead, pressing against it with the palm of their hand. It’s like lightning, just bursting through their mind. It’s so painful.

“so that’s how it is then?” Sans lets out a weary sigh. “can’t really say that i’m jumping with joy over the fact that you wanted to do harm to us, but i guess living it out inside your head is better than living it out outside your head. as long as you just don’t also live it out outside, it’s all fine by me. we’ll chalk it up to your twin still having some grip over you, just like frisk, and we’ll put this all behind us. we’ll look forward to tomorrow, where we all sit on your patio and watch the lightning together, as you promised.”

Aofil just wants to use the shower. “Sans, I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I’m exhausted, my head is a damn mess.”

“the memories will fade, should fade, in a bit,” Sans interjects.

“Can I just use the shower now? Try and wash everything away?”

“just don’t kill anyone, ok?”

Aofil doesn’t answer, they just shut the door behind them.

“otherwise i don’t think toriel will let you have any pie, that is,” Sans adds after opening the door again just slightly. “just looking out for you, pal.” He closes it again gently.

What a damn mess.

“oh, and i told the others that i had the radio on,” Sans remembers as he opens the door ajar again. “so they don’t know that you’re awake yet. they’re probably ninety percent sure, but they wouldn’t risk the remaining ten. i can also tell them that it’s me showering, if you want.”

“How many of them are here?”

“all of them.”

Great.

“Yeah, sure.”

The door is closed for a third time, and Aofil is left standing in the hallway. From downstairs they can hear Sans quickly saying that he feels for a shower.

“YOU’VE ALREADY SHOWERED YOUR ONCE THIS WEEK THOUGH, SANS! HOW COME?”

Papyrus is really loud, as if that comes to a surprise to Aofil. They feel like it shouldn’t, yet they still flinch backwards at the volume.

They damn well need that shower.

So they head back towards the end of the hallway. The commotion from downstairs becomes quieter with each step Aofil takes. So tired, so weak, so confused. Too much, it’s all too much.

Their head is swimming with so many contradicting thoughts that they barely can focus enough to even walk. Every step feels like an exam they’ve not prepared for. Why couldn’t the bathroom be closer? Why couldn’t the monsters just have gone back to the Underground? Why didn’t Aofil just leave before they had to use a damn memory box?

Aofil fumbles with the handle to the bathroom, and with some effort, they push it down, and swing the door open.

The sound of a plucked guitar string has Aofil lifting their heavy head up.

“Um...”

That is…someone. A monster. Looks familiar.

“Uh...”

The young boss monster’s hands are frozen on his guitar. “You’re awake?” he asks with a very perplexed look after a long and awkward silence.

Aofil blinks hard, as the embarrassment washes over them. “Yeah,” they stumble out after an equally long pause. They’re still not a hundred percent sure who that monster is. He looks similar to the one from the reflection in Asgore’s plate. “I was looking for the shower.”

Asriel shakes his head as he can’t really understand what he’s hearing, or what is happening. “It’s just across.”

Oh yeah, Asriel is his name.

With a very strange smile Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder. “Guess I took the wrong door.”

Asriel nods, slowly. “Yeah...guess you did. Also, aren’t those clothes yours?”

“No, I just-” Aofil looks up again, as their head immediately started slumping down. They see Asriel looking across the room, towards the person sitting on the other side with the same wide eyed stare as Asriel had just a moment ago.

“Oh, Frisk,” Aofil mumbles to themselves.

Frisk just stares.

“Anyway,” falls out of Aofil’s mouth without them even thinking about speaking. “I’m gonna use the shower now.”

They close the door, turn around clumsily, and open the one on the opposite side of the hallway. Rapid footsteps trample a second or so after Aofil enters the bathroom. They double check to make sure that they didn’t forget to lock the door.

They did forget.

So they lock it.

Their used clothes almost bounce on the tile floor as Aofil struggles to get them off. Not to mention the almost peeling sensation Aofil feel when removing them from their body. They halfheartedly push the solid pile of dried clothes to the side with their foot, and step into the shower, ignoring the strands of white hair dotting around the drain.

Finally!

Instinctively they flick the right side of the gauge to summon the water.

But nothing comes.

They see that it was the temperature gauge they flicked. No biggie, just have to flick the other and-

“Fucking hell!”

A torrent of ice cold water crashes against their head. The tiredness they felt absorbing their mind and body is crushed underneath the surge of adrenaline shooting out throughout their entire being. Aofil shuts the water off as quickly as they can.

They step out of the shower while rubbing their face. The gunk that clotted their eyelashes falls off, and circles with the water down into the drain. A fair share of the white hairs follow too.

Alright! Now they’re awake!

A few soft knocks tap the door. “Aofil?” Toriel asks from the other side.

“Yeah!” Aofil yells back, still with their heart in their throat from the cold shock they just experienced.

There’s a pause. Aofil’s deep breathing is echoing inside the bathroom. They almost have it under control, as Toriel begins speaking again.

“Do you want some tea when you’re done? A slice of pie? Butterscotch? Cinnamon? Perhaps both?”

“Sounds good!”

Aofil exhales deeply.

“Sounds good,” they repeat with a more steadfast voice.

“We’ll wait for you. Take your time.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Aofil returns into the shower making a top priority to readjust the temperature gauge to a more comfortable temperature. As the water pours again, Aofil holds only their hand out in the falling water’s grace to feel when it’s safe to step in.

Another knock has them turning the water off again. With a shiver they turn their head towards the door. “Yes?”

“Did you find the clothes, Aofil? I put some out for you.”

“Yes,” Aofil answers while motioning to the pile next to their filthy one. The fact that Toriel can’t see that they’re pointing isn’t dawning on them. “I found them.”

“Are there towels there for you?”

“I’m naked, Toriel,” Aofil informs in a desperate attempt to get her to walk away. “Can I please shower in peace?”

“Y-yes!” she shouts through the door, flustered to the point that Aofil can hear it clearly in her voice. “Of c-course!”

That rock must’ve hit her harder than Aofil expected.

Dammit!

Aofil throws their fist against the wall behind the shower. These thoughts! Again! The memory box wasn’t real! It was just…

Their memory.

Aofil heaves a sigh, both weary, and aggravated over their hand. They shake it loose to relieve some of the pain. They didn’t punch a hole in the tiles, but it sure felt like it. For a third time Aofil engages the shower. They don’t care if it’s unbearably cold now, they just want it to wash away everything.

Luckily, the small window of time they had while feeling with their hand warmed the water enough for it not to collapse their heart into shock. Aofil looks up, the drops smashing against their face. They drag their hands through their hair, splitting the stuck parts into less than wrist thick clumps.

They stop their hands by their neck, and clasp them together behind it. Their elbows counter balance Aofil leaning their head back again into the connected palms of their hands.

The drops once again drum on their face.

“FUCK!” they yell. With all their strength. With everything that remains of their vigor. It’s loud, it hurts their already rasped throat. They cough immediately after, and again they taste blood. Their own voice rings in their own ears.

But they had to do it. They had to let it out. Now they let the water wash away what’s left. Wash away their thoughts, their confusion, their everything. Just...silence now.

“Aofil! What happened?” comes a scared and anxious voice through the door yet again.

No answer. Aofil keeps their head upwards towards the water. It’s pouring like the Waterfall.

“Aofil! Are you-”

“I’m fine!” Aofil answers without moving their head. “Leave me be! I’ll be down when I’m done.”

“I heard you scream.” Toriel is almost apologetic. Her concern is soft. It’s nostalgic, it reminds Aofil. They don’t want to be reminded though, not now.

Their head needs to be clear, or, as clear as possible. They need to be alone now. Just them, and themselves, to try and figure things out.

“I’ll come down when I’m done,” Aofil repeats.

There’s a brief pause before the response comes. “I understand.”

She doesn’t. None of them can. Not in this reset, or the one before, or the one before that.

The water keeps on pouring, and pouring, and pouring. Slowly, Aofil feels their head becoming lighter in their hands. The thoughts of the events that never happened yet did at the same time time as well as never meld together, and split apart. Come together, and repulse each other.

The being that was Aofil, the being that attacked Asgore, that aspired with Flowey, that felt such hate against the monsters. Its actions doesn’t feel like it came from Aofil. It doesn’t feel like Aofil was the one to control them. It was a monster, it was someone else.

Their motivation, their reason behind, their enjoyment.

That Aofil feels. That they can think back on now. They can reason for it, they can understand why, how, and because, that being did it.

Would they have done it again?

Maybe.

They didn’t though. This time around they didn’t.

The motivations feel out of place when Aofil thinks back on what they themselves feel happened. The snail ordeal, training with Undyne, playing with MK and Frisk when they were so small. Hell, even Muffet.

Those happening, those events, those Aofil feels that they did. Each movement was their own, each thought, but not the same ones that wanted the monsters dead and gone.

Although…

All the other things, traveling the Underground, almost dying. Bringing back Asriel, meeting Chara, their curse. For those, Aofil feels the same as when they think back on the being holding the broken glass just above Asgore’s head.

It’s clear though, and that’s all that matters now. What’s next to do, is to set things straight with the monsters.

Aofil’s skin has gone wrinkly from all the water. The sun seems to be setting as well through the bathroom window.

How long were they showering?

No matter, they had to do it.

Aofil fetches a towel from the rack. After drying themselves they size up the clothes Toriel laid out for them. The material is the same as Toriel’s robe. It’s somewhat their size. Although, the fit is not gonna be perfect, even without the size difference. They’re clearly Frisk’s clothes.

It’s not like they’re gonna prance around in them though, and the clothes seem comfy enough. Eh, whatever. Aofil have bigger problems than looking like a g-

“You done?”

Is that…

Aofil hastily ties a knot with the belt around their waist. They don’t even bother making sure that there is properly dried before unlocking and opening the door.

“I...” Frisk’s voice wavers as they process seeing Aofil in their clothes. “You...you’re going down to talk with mom and dad, right?”

“...I am.”

Frisk nods to themselves. “Sorry, about Chara, and everything else. I tried to get you to stay, and I thought that maybe if you heard Chara explain it all, I thought-”

Frisk trails off. Their hand balls into a fist. “They’re gone,” they whisper.

Oh.

Aofil’s not sure how to feel, if they’re supposed to feel it all. Perhaps they’re too tired, too exhausted, but for now it’s just.

Nothing.

“I see,” they still answer. “Went away when you woke up?”

Frisk nods.

“And that’s why you can talk to me now?”

Another nod.

“Have you told Asgore and Toriel?”

Head shake.

“Do you wa-”

“No!”

Aofil flinches back. “Alright, alright.”

Frisk falls into their torso, wrapping their arms around Aofil. Aofil almost falls backwards, and have to grab the door frame so they don’t. They drag themselves upright, and place their hands awkwardly on Frisk’s shoulders.

“I don’t want to lose you too...” the sobbing human coughs. “I promised Chara. I promised myself.”

Aofil gently, yet still firmly, pushes Frisk away from their chest. “Frisk,” Aofil sighs to the side. “If it happens that I can’t stay here, then it’s not your fault. It’s the monsters. I know that they have good intentions, but you can still hurt someone despite having good intentions. I’m sure that you’re aware of that, Frisk.”

Frisk’s lips curl up.

“I need to confront them about this, about everything I’ve done, and everything they’ve done. It’s not only for my sake, but for theirs as well. They’ve done wrong to me, and I have to have them hear me telling them that. It isn’t a matter of apologizing, because they’re gonna do so instantly. I won’t even be able to finish talking before they’re gonna throw their hearts out in forgiveness. It’s not about that. It’s about...”

What is it about?

“...It’s about...”

Aofil doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s the reason? That they don’t know. That they don’t know what has hurt them, what has them hesitating to come back. They know what the monsters done. They need more hands than what they have to count it all.

Yet, they can’t say what needs to be done to fix it. What the monsters can do to make it up to Aofil.

“Is it about you?” Frisk asks after seeing Aofil struggle with their own thoughts.

“Maybe...” Aofil let’s go of Frisk’s shoulders. “Maybe. I want to come back, but if I do it now, then it won’t be fair to myself. It won’t be fair to what I’ve gone through. I’ve almost died, I’ve fused magically, I’ve experienced so much that a human, or a monster, should ever go through. It’s not something I can just shrug off. I’m gonna have those memories forever. They’re never gonna leave me. I just…I need them to somehow convince me that they can dampen the thoughts, that they can keep my mind away from these memories.”

Aofil looks down the hallway, towards the stairs leading down. “And all of the memories are about them. They have a lot of explaining to do, but I don’t know what I want them to explain about.”

A lovely smell of sweet and sour hits Aofil’s nose. Golden Flower tea.

“Smells like tea is ready. I should probably head down there before it becomes cold. I guess they’re reheating it though, since I was in that shower for so long.”

Frisk nods.

“Guess I should head down before it becomes cold again then.”

Another nod.

“Did Chara say something about me before they disappeared?”

Third nod.

“Thank you,” Frisk says while putting their hand over their heart. "They wanted me you to know."

Aofil’s not sure why they asked, but they still feel warm from hearing the answer.

“I see.”

The hallway feels a bit shorter to Aofil now that they can walk somewhat normally. The stairs down is a bit of a chore though, and they use the hand railing as support. Once down they turn the corner into the kitchen.

Whatever silent commotion halts, and all eyes move over to Aofil. They head for the empty chair at the end of the table. Undyne spins it around for them, and Aofil sits down. On the other side of the table, Toriel motions between two pies. Aofil shrugs, and throws a hand towards the one on the right.

A carved piece, along with a cup of tea, is passed over. The sweet and sour dance has been a long time coming, and Aofil indulges in the taste for a long while before setting their cup down on the table.

As the silence again takes precedent, an anxious sob is heard from upstairs.

“Go upstairs,” Asgore asks of Asriel. “Take care of your sibling, please.”

Toriel agrees with a nod. “We’ll call for you two a bit later. Sound good?”

Asriel looks towards his parents, then over to Aofil. He stands up with a conflicted expression, but is halted by Toriel.

“Take these with you.” She carves out a couple of pie slices, and hands two small plates over to Asriel, along with a gentle kiss on his forehead. “It’s all gonna be fine.”

Asriel passes Aofil without so much as a glance from either of them.

Aofil takes another sip of their tea.

They roll up their sleeve, and put their patch of fur out on the table for all to see.

With a solemn nod, Asgore takes a deep breath.


	103. One's own worst enemy

“Before we start, Aofil, I want to reiterate that whatever you decide, you will always have a place here,” Asgore says while moving his large arm across the table, indicating to everyone sitting next to him. They all nod in agreement. “I understand, we all understand, that it is your choice, and no matter which you choose, we will support you making it.”

“You have done so much for us, Aofil,” Toriel adds with a gentle smile, again making sure that the rest of the table agrees with her. “You’ll always be welcome here, whenever you choose, and for how long you choose. You’ve done so much to us that you can’t even fathom.”

Can’t fathom? Can’t understand?

Maybe that’s the problem.

“You don’t have to do this with all of us present,” Toriel makes clear with a gentle nod. “We can leave if you’d rather talk to us one by one. We want to help you, Aofil, and we’ll do it your way.”

Aofil looks down on their arm. “Before I begin, I want to know what you feel about this?” they ask. “Do you know how Asriel came back? What happened in my basement?”

Toriel and Asgore share a look, and Asgore nods quietly. “We know that it was you,” he says with a conflicted voice. “You, and Asriel. We could feel it as we descended the stairs. I trust that you know what happened to your twin and Asriel.”

Aofil knows. First hand experience. Should they mention it? They can’t remember it, and their soul is now whole again. It’s because of the attack Asriel and Chara did that broke it in the first place though. Maybe if their soul was whole they could’ve handled what followed better.

But if their soul wasn’t broken, then they wouldn’t have been able to bring back Asriel.

That doesn’t sound like a positive to Aofil at the moment. They still can’t handle it all despite having as whole a soul as possible now… So?

Maybe that’s something they should’ve talked more to Chara about? They’re sure as hell not gonna say anything to Asriel. Aofil can’t imagine anything good coming out of him, they don’t even know what they want him to answer. No, Chara was the best option. Too late for that now though… Question still remains if they should ask Toriel and Asgore about the attack. Or would that just add more to the already overflowing pile of problems?

Maybe later, if the chance comes up again.

Asgore asks with a small gesture of his hand if he can continue. He’s been waiting for Aofil to come back from their thoughts. Aofil nods, and Asgore moves his hand over to the monster sitting next to him. “Toriel and I, we felt a strange aura that we thought we would never feel, something we never should’ve felt in the first place. It was so familiar, and that scared us. Scared us far more than the glimpse of familiarity it meant. Feeling just a speck of Asriel, after all those years. Same with your connection to...”

Asgore’s voice falters. He puts his balled fist up to his mouth, and exhales deeply into it. Toriel looks away to the side, glancing upwards towards the Delta Rune banner hanging on the wall.

“Chara,” Aofil fills in after giving the boss monsters some time to collect themselves.

“Yes,” Asgore speaks gently into his fist. “Chara. Our child. With Asriel, again. Laying eyes upon you and Asriel in your basement, Aofil. I...” Asgore rubs his forehead tiredly. “I don’t know what I could believe anymore. I wanted to have hope, but what did it mean for what I did when it didn’t amount to anyt-”

Toriel interrupts Asgore by putting her hand onto his. She looks him in the eyes softly, acting as a pillar for him to catch himself before he slips into his own mind.

“We’re here for Aofil,” she reminds just as softly. “For now, we’re here for Aofil.”

“I know.” Asgore’s hand tenses underneath Toriel’s. “I know. Forgive me, I’ll make an effort to catch myself from here on out.”

“You might have to extend that to catch me too, Asgore,” Toriel replies as she retracts her hand back to herself. “Just as I did now.”

“I will.”

Another silence hangs heavy in the air. Aofil leans back a bit as they try and shake off the feeling they remember from being fused with Asriel. The sense of not having control, yet still feeling that every action was theirs. The absent feeling they have about the monster from the memory box, but up close and personal, in the most literal of sense. They shudder at the thought. Visibly so.

“I’m not gonna remind you of the details of Asriel’s return, Aofil. You know that plenty yourself. Sans and Frisk have informed us about it, so it’s fine if you don’t want to relive that.”

Aofil’s eyes shoot, none too subtly, over to Sans. He meets the look, and nods reassuringly. A first for him, but Aofil’s inclined to believe, since it is a first. They’re less inclined to hear exactly what he cooked up, but if Frisk was involved, then maybe it’s not that bad? Maybe?

Can’t be as bad as the truth, and Aofil’s already experienced that. Feeling every minute part of their body transform. Slipping away as another presence took hold of their actions. Sharing a soul. Not the first time for Asriel, but a first for Aofil.

And that first is a million times too many.

Aofil can’t help but wonder. “How did it feel? When Asriel and I fused. My soul, compared to Chara’s?”

Toriel blinks away some tears while summoning a warm and comforting smile. “Very much the same, Aofil. After meeting so many new humans, I can’t believe that neither of us made the connection.” Toriel indicates between her and Asgore. “I guess we were too busy to notice with you being there for us.”

“And how does it feel now?” Aofil asks while nodding once towards their arm. “Do you feel Asriel inside me?”

“No, we don’t,” Asgore looks over to Toriel to make doubly sure. She shakes her head at the notion. “A human’s aura is so much more powerful than a monster’s, so whatever part of him is inside you, we can’t feel.”

“How do you feel about him being inside my soul?”

“That...”

“We can’t really tell right now,” Toriel adds to Asgore stunned silence. “If you’re worried that we suspect that you’ve somehow stolen, or done wrong in acquiring it, then worry not, Aofil. We would never suspect you to do such a thing. It’s more about us coming to terms with knowing, rather than questioning how it happened. It’s been a lesson for us here on the Surface, but take trust in that we’ll not see you as evil because of it. As I said before, we can’t feel him with you, Aofil, so I don’t suspect it taking long for it to fade away for us.”

Aofil nods once again to their arm. “And this?”

“That...”

“Might take a little while longer,” Asgore says as he takes over, but not to the disdain of Toriel. “I trust that you’d like to have the option to not wear long sleeved clothing all the time, right?” He turns his head towards Alphys. “Is there any way you can reverse this effect, Alphys?” Asgore asks carefully.

“I d-don’t know,” comes a nasily reply from the yellow lizard. “I’m n-not really sure how it grew in the first place.”

Asgore bows his head gently. “Then we’ll make a double effort to not associate with Asriel.”

“I c-can try,” Alphys remembers to offer while tapping her claws. “M-maybe it’s j-just a question of shaving it off?”

“Already tried that,” Aofil informs.

“O-oh, then I’m afraid that I have to make more tests.”

“It’s up to you, Aofil,” Asgore repeats. “We will help you in whichever you feel like choosing.”

Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder, towards the stairs. “And how do you reckon that he feels about it?”

“Do you want me to call him down?” wonders Toriel.

“No.” Aofil retracts their thumb. “Not now.”

Later, maybe. Aofil has more pressing matters to ask about.

“How long have you known about Chara and me being twins?” Aofil asks while rolling their robe back over their forearm. “Did you know before I showed you our parents’ graves?”

“We had our suspicions before, but we didn’t dare to ask,” Toriel explains. “You may have looked like Chara, but you didn’t act like them. You could just as well have been another human that just happened to look similarly to Chara. We didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with the first human we met, so we didn’t inquire with you. If we were correct in our assumption it would’ve only made our relationship strained and exhaustive.”

Strained and exhaustive earlier, that is. Seems like she’s had time to think it over. Aofil hazards a guess about Asgore as well. Asriel hasn’t, that much Aofil knows. Or at least, not enough time. Again, something for a later time. It’s starting to feel a bit better clearing the air with the monsters. Things they had to worry about slipping up are now slipping off their back, relieving an enormous weight. Although, Aofil feels, and knows, that it’s not long until things will start to hurt. That they’ll feel the pain the weights have caused.

They hope they’re ready.

“With both Frisk and Chara having a red soul, yours feeling the same to us as Chara’s could’ve been because you shared the same color, and only the color.” Toriel moves her hand up over her chest. “But when we realized, we were more relieved than confused. More happy to know, than betrayed that we didn’t know sooner. In a sense, it should’ve been obvious to us, at the time, but we’re glad that it wasn’t.”

Toriel is forced to stop as an emotional cough sneaks up on her. It bounces a couple of tears away from her eyes, and she looks away while trying her eyes.

“We spent a good while at your parents’ grave, Aofil. Thanking. Thanking for the wonderful children that they’ve blessed us with. For you, Aofil, and Chara, you’ve brought so much hope to us monsters.” Asgore’s wide smile fades into a conflicted frown alarmingly fast. “But the time we spent thanking paled compared to the time we spent asking your parents for forgiveness. Because in the end, no matter how much Chara did for us, how much we treated them as our own, they weren’t our own. They were your twin, your parents’ child, and we basked in their company while you looked for them. While you were lesser for their disappearance, we were joyous in our finding. We had the happiness that was made for you, and that wasn’t fair of us. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do, but the times are changing. I know what it means to make a decision that felt right at the time.”

Toriel turns her head back towards Aofil. Her eyes are irritated and thick chasms in her fur are running down her cheeks. “The pastor joined us a short while after you left, Aofil. A wonderful man, he is. He shared with us prayers that you humans give to your deceased. It was a humbling moment. As we prayed, a wind passed us, rustling the aspen tree behind the gravestones. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the pastor smile, and when he ended the prayer, he told me that he believed that your parents heard us, and that they were thankful for hearing what happened to their child. That they knew what became of Chara.”

That’s good and all, but...

“So why did you keep telling yourself that I was Chara then?” Aofil retorts. “Did you apologize just so that you could continue with me?” They can feel something tugging at their cheeks and at their lips. An itch that’s moving out towards their hand.

“No, Aofil. We didn’t. What you did for us was you. Chara did a lot for us as well, but the two of you have done your own separately.”

“Why then did you talk me up to Asriel? Why did you paint me as a hero that I’m not!”

“Because to us, you are-”

Aofil’s hand comes crashing down on the table. The cups and plates knocked in the air bounce once before falling over. “No! I am not a hero! Never was! Never wanted to be!” Aofil pauses as their breathing turns sharp as a knife. “I never wanted this. I don’t want to be the hope! I just-”

They press their fist up to their mouth, biting at their index finger. Aofil averts their eyes, and sigh deeply into their hand. “I don’t want to be a hero. It hurts. It’s heavy. There are so many things I’ve done, that I wish I’d never done. I’m a mess, and it’s because I did what I thought was good. What I thought was the right thing.”

The sight of the Delta Rune burns their eyes, and they shut them closed hard. “If this is what the right thing is making me feel, then how could it have been the right thing for me? If me helping means that I have to put my life on the line every single time, then it’s hurting me to help. If it means that my shoulders will break when I reach my hand out to help someone up, then...”

Aofil shakes their head. It’s all they can do. Just shake their head at it all. How else can they really deal with it? They’ve tried everything else! “If I do right by others, I do wrong by myself, but when I try and make right by myself, I still do wrong. I help you guys, I get attacked. I figure out secrets that I never should’ve known, I get transformed. When I try and distance myself, it just turns into trying to run away from an avalanche with my feet tied together. I figure out a way to cope, but that turns out to make worse for me rather than make right for me. So what can I do? What should I do? What is it that I have to do?”

The table shakes with their voice. Their pain. Now that it’s out though, Aofil can almost see it. It’s hovering like a barely visible cloud. There! Just before them in the air. Twisted, sour, bitter, angry, and so big. Enormous! It’s so vast and overwhelming, that Aofil feels vertigo just looking at it. All their anger at the monsters! At themselves…

All their stupid decisions that lead them to feel this way. They should’ve just left to begin with! They left too late! Before the monsters could’ve had time to hurt them, Aofil should’ve left.

But they didn’t.

Because behind that cloud, behind all that anger, sorrow, and dread, are the monsters. Both figuratively, and, as Aofil’s eyes refocus, literally. In the flesh...In the magic, that is.

Behind that cloud are the monsters that helped Aofil, almost as much as they helped the monsters. The monsters were there for Aofil when they were at their lowest. They lifted Aofil up, and gave Aofil a family. They were alone, but with the monsters, that all changed. The warmth that was sucked out of their life when their parents and sibling died, it all came back with the monsters.

Comforting, nostalgic, and most importantly, real. Alive! The monsters helped Aofil up on their feet again, but Aofil fell. They fell into an even lower hole than before, one that they made themselves. They dug their own hole, their own Underground, their own prison, and they fell. Just like their twin, they fell deep into a dark place. Unlike Chara, Aofil did it all to themselves.

The monsters are stretching out their hands now, they want to help Aofil up. Back up to the Surface, where the sun shines, away from all this pain.

What if it happens again though? What if the monsters will just lift Aofil higher up again? What if Aofil chooses to roll off again? The hole will be deeper yet again, it’s always deeper yet again.

But if they don’t reach up to take the monsters’ hands, then they’ll be stuck down here. Forever! No light, only darkness. No family, only themselves. Alone, with no one to call for help. If they even want to call for help.

The monsters’ done wrong! Aofil’s done wrong! What’s right? What’s the path to choose? It’s too much! Their cloud is asphyxiating them! They need to get out of here!

Aofil’s chair fall over as they bolt out of it. Towards the door! Get away from it all! Get away from the monsters! Get away from all that’s hurting them!

Aofil’s hand halts on the door handle. The setting sun paints an orange picture through the glass pane in the door.

What about them? They can’t run away from themselves. They tried to, but it only made things worse. Their arm, their curse, their friends.

Their family.

But what will happen if they stay!

“It hurts,” Aofil coughs out in the midst of a deep and painful sob, as they squeeze the door handle until their hand turns white from the pressure. “I don’t know what to do. I need help. I can’t trust myself to make the right choice! There’s so much I’ve done wrong to myself. How can I trust someone else if I can’t trust myself? If I’m a hero, then what it means to be a hero is to do wrong every step of the way!”

“You’ve not done wrong though, Aofil.”

“I have! I have to me! And to you!”

“You haven’t!” Toriel shouts after catching herself just before she tries to stand up from her chair. She sits back down as she sees Aofil’s hand slip off the door handle. “Please believe when I say that you haven’t, Aofil. You’ve given us too much to ever have hurt us! You say that you’ve hurt yourself in being with us.” Her voice is on the brink of panic. “Is that why you’ve been gone? Is it because you feel that you’ve hurt you? Aofil?”

“I want to come back...”

“Then come back,” Toriel implores with all her heart as she finally stands up. “Come back to us.”

Aofil meets her eyes. Soft, gentle, comforting. They know she speaks from her heart, they know she means every word. Yet, they can’t feel it. “I can’t,” Aofil laments with a shaky sigh. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because...”

No answer.

“Because...”

No answer.

“Because!”

No answer!

“I don’t know! I just want it all to stop! I want to be happy again! I want to go a day without these thoughts! They’re always-”

A pair of large, fuzzy, warm, comforting, nostalgic, gentle, soothing, and careful arms wrap around Aofil.

“Let it out.”

A second pair, just as careful and gentle as the first, wrap around Aofil where there’s space.

“Let it out.”

Blue and yellow arms follow.

“Let it out.”

And a pair of long skeleton arms.

“LET IT OUT!”

Another pair of skeleton arms tries to nuzzle in from the table.

“let me in.”

The pile of hugs scoff in unison, but one voice keeps going. The scoff turns into a cough.

Into a single sob.

Into a weep.

A wail.

And the tears pour like the Waterfall.

“I want to come back...”

“aof.”

“You.”

“ARE.”

“Back.”


	104. Lunch with a friend

“Of all the people, of all the humans. Hell, to meet a human to begin with.”

Aofil cocks their head around to meet the voice. Could it be?

“And lo and behold, it’s the one that owes me a couple of Sunday lunches.”

“Tylior!” Aofil exclaims with overwhelming joy.

He spreads his arms out and nods at the sound of his name. “Gone for just a day, ey? Must be a very strange day since the sun has set, and even risen, plenty of times since we last met.”

The two embrace each other in a large and friendly hug.

“You have no idea,” Aofil says under their breath.

“It’s really good to see you again, Aof,” replies Tylior with a warm pat on Aofil’s back. “Your back looks so wonderful.”

An amused chuckle, one that’s a long time coming for Aofil, is coughed out of them. Along with it Aofil feels some worry fading away. Hugging it out with the monsters is good and all, but feeling another human’s skin against theirs is just something that they just now realized that they needed. They might’ve talked it out with the monsters, but in the end, they’re a human.

Once the two friends part ways from the hug, Tylior runs his hand up and down Aofil. “And the front of you isn’t that bad either,” he jests. “And look, you’re wearing short slee-” Tylior face freezes into a perplexed expression as he spots Aofil’s forearms.

Oh yeah, he didn’t know. Now he does, though.

“You want to touch it?” Aofil asks curiously while lifting their arm up to Tylior. They can see him staring hard on the patch of fur on their arm. They’re half temped to rub his face in it. Actually, more than half, ninety nine out of a hundred tempted to.

He flinches back and blows his lips just before a single strand can touch his lips. Tylior takes a step back as he dries off his mouth. “That’s...”

“The reason I wore long sleeves, yeah.” Aofil returns their arm back to their side. They shoot it back up to Tylior’s face when he steps back towards Aofil, because they might as well take advantage of this once in a lifetime situation. “You sure you don’t want to touch it?”

A gentle, yet still completely stern, swat from Tylior gets his message across. “Not with my face.”

Aofil allows Tylior a couple of seconds to cope with the shock, but as it subsides, Aofil sees a hungering curiosity grew in his eyes. He glances up to Aofil’s eyes to make sure, and Aofil gives him their blessing. He rubs his fingers together half eagerly, half hesitant.

“Ouch!” Aofil jerks their arm back when Tylior touches their fur. They can’t hold their facade for long though, and they start chuckling at Tylior’s panicked expression.

“You can’t fucking do that, Aof,” he says with a shaky voice. “Don’t be an asshole now. I’m confused enough as it is.”

Guess he is. Maybe Aofil went a bit too far. “Sorry,” they say. “It doesn’t hurt me, I swear.”

Tylior runs his finger carefully on the top of Aofil’s arm. It tickles Aofil, and the way he carefully, almost frighteningly, moves his finger around, has Aofil again chuckling to themselves.

Tylior stops his finger. “You’re not getting aroused by this, I hope.”

“What will your girlfriend say when she hears about this?” Aofil feigns disgust.

“Is it real?” Tylior wonders. “I mean...Yeah, is it real? What is it?”

“It’s one of the reasons I...you know,” Aofil admits. “It’s tied to that allergy I had.”

“Magic?”

Aofil nods.

After finishing wiping his fingers off on his shirt, Tylior nods as well. “I see,” he says while keeping his eyes on Aofil’s arm. “Is it connected to how your arm was broken for less than a day? I remember you leaning on it a day or after you punched that wall.”

“You can say that.”

“But it doesn’t hurt you right now?” Tylior asks while raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “You seem to be comfortable with it now. What’s been going on with you these last weeks?”

“I’ve been doing a bit of, let’s say, soul searching.”

“Figuratively?” Tylior pries.

“Not really. It’s not something I really want to discuss. I’m fine now though, despite it.”

“So?” Tylior makes a rolling motion with his hand. “What happened? Last I saw of you, you were more under the weather than rolling fog in the Underground. Now you’re letting me touch some apparent fur that you have on your arm, and have had for as long as we’ve known each other. Magic fur, even. Magic that you’re comfortable around. Your cheeks aren’t red. Your eyes aren’t red. Redder,” he correct. “Seems like your allergy has just up and disappeared! Next thing you’re gonna tell is that you haven’t had your medication?”

Tylior reaches into his pocket. “You don’t even have to tell me.” He pulls out a plastic container filled with the pills Aofil used to take. They even have Aofil’s name on it! “I have them here.”

Aofil’s brow furrows deep as a chasm. “How did you even get them? Why did you get them?”

“Because you still forget to lock your damn door, Aofil.”

“Did you break into my apartment again?”

A deep sigh escapes Tylior. “When you left,” he pockets the pills again, “and didn’t come back after one day like you said you would, I became worried. The mood you were in, the things you talked about when we had that lunch, they balled up. You didn’t answer your phone, your neighbors hadn’t seen you. I...” Tylior moves his hand up to his forehead, and caresses it before running his hand down to his mouth. “I was scared for you. Scared about what you were capable of while in that state of your mind. It was probably already too late to check up on you when I finally decided to, but I still did. You weren’t there when I entered your home. There was only a pile of your mail. You should probably send in your rent if you haven’t done it already.”

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll send it in today.”

Tylior pats his pocket. “Your doctor also sent you that refill you asked for. Two bottles, so I took one in case I ran into you here. It was the last place you said that you were going to, so I thought maybe...”

Tylior sighs into his hand before removing it. He takes a couple of second to collect himself by staring into the horizon. “You wanna get some lunch? Sevoltne told me of a place that she recommends. She left her car around the corner for me to use. I’m supposed to visit her family here, but you know how the buses are. Always running late, around the time it takes to have lunch with a friend or so. Unless you’re waiting for a bus youself, that is?”

“No,” Aofil points across the bus parking lot, towards an incoming moving truck. “I just need to give the driver the address. I was planning on getting a ride from them, but I could go for some lunch, sure.”

“Ah, so you’re moving?” Tylior gives Aofil a wide smile. “Then I’ll wheel the car around next to the truck.”

“You do that.”

It strikes Aofil, not enough to be odd, because in a sense, the main bus station would be the best chance of meeting another human, but it strikes them nonetheless, that it’s been the place where they’ve run into someone they thought were out of their life, and both are human to boot.

This time, however, they’re actually looking forward to spending time with the human they met at the bus terminal. A friend, someone to clear the air some more with. The extensive talking they had with the monsters was exhaustive, but as Aofil went to bed in one of the Dreemurr’s guest rooms that night, they actually looked forward to sleeping. Even better, they looked forward to waking up.

It’s been awhile since Aofil last remembered wanting to wake up the next morning.

It was a lot to do though before they could close their eyes and feel safe about it. There’s still a lot to do even now. A long road ahead for Aofil, but they’ve taken the first step. They admitted. It was the first step. They admitted…

And almost had all their air hugged right out of them.

There was some talking afterwards, about what Aofil felt the monsters had done wrong to them. They mounted all the blame, but Aofil knew that they didn’t have to. It was all their own choice, after all. Their choice to stay, their choice to help, their choice to run away.

This time though, Aofil’s gonna make the right choice.

They hope.

They want.

Please, let it be this time.

It’s starting off pretty good, that much Aofil can say. Despite the other times, with Aofil hitting their head, falling down into the Underground and almost dying, and deciding to willingly kill the monsters, instead of accidentally.

They left that part out. It’s in the past. A past that never happened, but that Aofil has to live with regardless. That will never fade.

Aofil flexes the fur on their arm.

Nor will this, so the best course of action is trying to live with it. Aofil wishes that they’ve learned that sooner.

But wishing made their curse blossom, wishing that all of this never happened. Magic doesn’t exist...Well, it does, but not the magic that involves wishing. Only other magic, like fur growing on an arm because a piece of a monster prince’s soul is fused to a broken human’s soul that broke during them almost dying to their long lost twin fusing with said monster prince’s soul and-

“Woah! Watch out!”

Aofil recoils back, stumbling as their thinking occupied them enough not to notice them walking right into the opened passenger door of the moving truck. They rub the impact on their forehead, gritting their teeth and sucking air through them to keep the pain in.

The driver closes the door. “You alright?” she asks while checking for any bleeding.

“I’m,” Aofil exhales deeply, “fine.”

“You’re Aofil, right? We was told to meet you here.”

“Yeah, here’s the address.” Aofil hands over the paper they got from Asgore to the driver. The seal is still on, as Aofil’s pretty damn sure where Asgore and Toriel have planned on Aofil living. “I’m having lunch with a friend, so you can drive ahead.”

The driver taps the paper between her thumb and index finger. “Sure.” She seems a bit confused over the whole ordeal.

Aofil tries to make it seem like they don’t notice, or is in thumping pain. They throw up a thumb in approval. “Yes.”

They’re saved in the nick of this awkward moment by Tylior honking a few spaces away from the moving truck. Aofil waves a quick goodbye to the driver, and heads over.

“Careful not to hit your head,” he advises as Aofil eases themselves into the passenger seat, brushing away some yellow feathers before seating completely.

Did he see? Does he know? Aofil keeps their eyes on him as they fumble with their seat belt, but he either has the most developed poker face in the world, or he didn’t see. Judging by Aofil’s past experiences with playing poker with him, they hazard the latter option.

“How far is it?” Aofil asks.

Tylior turns around to show that he’s talking on the phone, and Aofil mouths a “sorry”.

“Yes, Sev, I’m on my way there.” Tylior turns out on the main street. “No, that’s not the sound of your car. It’s the bus.”

Aofil decides it’s best not to say anything, and take the opportunity to look around the city they’re about to live in from now on. They haven’t been around it ever since they arrived and went on to look for a toilet.

Buildings with a mixture of architectural ages pass by the car window. Some new, some old. Some clearly human, some clearly monster. If Aofil didn’t know any better they’d call it jarring. They still do, but that might change once they get used to it.

Again.

Get used to monsters around them. Get used to magic. Get used to that there won’t probably be a quiet morning, or day, from now on. Perhaps not in a bad way though. When Aofil was alone, when it was just them and their thoughts, it didn’t really work out, to say the underwhelmingly least. With the monsters now back to occupy Aofil’s mind with other things, it might be a good change of pace with some noise to drown out their thoughts.

Hearing Tylior talk with his girlfriend about meaningless things is also good to Aofil’s ears. His life is safe and good enough for meaningless to be meaningful. Although Aofil’s not sure that they’ll go so far as to argue...

“Orange is a complimentary color to your scales, Sev. It’ll look great! It’s also the color of the monster kingdom, so why not? I don’t care if it’s purple that’s the actual color of the monster kingdom, but you get my point. I think it looks cozy, so can’t we just leave it at there.”

Whatever it is Tylior is arguing.

“What do you mean ‘clash with the upholstery’?”

Yeah...whatever it might be.

His problem is not about memories from a previous reset going haywire, a long dead twin coming back and possessing, or bringing back an equally long dead prince to life, that’s for sure.

Aofil shakes them off. Not the thoughts! Not now! They’ll do their daily coping later. Now they want to enjoy themselves with a friend. Have lunch in the sun, and just not worry about anything.

And it is their enormous relief that they have a chance to.

That their head is actually listening to them. It’s progress, it’s a step forward, and Aofil’s gonna enjoy every moment it opens up!

To a certain degree, that is. Maybe they’ll finally give in and watch some of that Mew Mew Kissy Kissy with Alphys and Undyne. Although from what the two of them have described, it might be too much in the meaningless direction. Aofil won’t know until they try though, but they fear that once Undyne has dragged them in she won’t let them go. Both figuratively, and literally.

“Yes, I’ll see you soon, my cute lizard.”

A huffed voice escapes Tylior’s phone’s receiver before he disconnects the call. “She hates when I call her that, but if I’m lucky it’ll shush any suspicion down from her that I’m actually here.”

“You’re such a gentlemen,” Aofil comments with a snark.

“I know,” he replies.

“Shouldn’t be too far away now,” Tylior informs as he turns away from the main street a couple of minutes after. “Sevoltne said that she’s heard of this place, but never got to visit it. Should have nice food.”

“Is it Mettaton’s perchance?” Aofil wonders.

A quick scoff has some feathers on the dashboard in front of Tylior dancing briefly before settling back down. “Yeah, sure. Like we would be able to find a table. I know that you know the royal family, but I don’t think even they can’t just waltz inside and find a table just like that.”

“It helps if you’re kidnapped by him.”

There’s a silence.

“How serious are you about that, Aof?”

They shrug. “I’m not lying.”

Another silence.

“It’s not like I wanted to be kidnapped,” Aofil makes clear with an outstretched hand. “In fact, I was having lunch with some other friends over at a place called...”

Aofil’s hands flops down as they see what street they’re on.

Oh no.

Tylior parks a car length away from a familiar store front.

No, why did he park? Why here?

Aofil turns to quickly implore Tylior to keep driving, but from the corner of their eye, they see that they’ve already been spotted. They can’t drive away now! The car might be flipped over!

What to do?

“Aofil?” Tylior reaches into his pocket. “Are you alright? Do you need some-”

“No!” Aofil glances back to the monster that’s now definitely spotted them from outside the car. They take a deep breath, and look sternly into Tylior’s eyes. "When I get out of the car, that giant spider in the window is probably gonna come charging out the store for me. It's gonna be followed by an army or so of smaller ones that will drag me inside the cafe. Just wait until they're out of reach for you, and then get out of the car. I might be able to calm the situation down before you enter."

Tylior’s hand stays in his pocket. “You-”

“Just!” Aofil heaves a heavy sigh with the intent to come to terms with what they’re about to do. It helps, but not a lot. “Trust me on this.”

Tylior’s perplexed silence is as good as an answer that Aofil’s gonna get. They unbuckle, and take one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

Muffet turns curiously around as the little legs of the chime shaped like a spider rings from above her door.

“Ahuhuhu! It’s you again, Aofil!” she cheers as Aofil is dragged heels over head through the opened door with Muffin clinging like an ill weighted belt. He’s accompanied by a small platoon of spiders steering Aofil’s stumbles in the general direction of the counter Muffet is behind.

“Hello again, Muffet,” Aofil greets back while almost tripping over themselves from the rapid swinging the one big, and many small, spiders do to coax Aofil towards Muffet. “Do you have a table for two?”

Her eyes widen.

“For two?” she repeats while putting a hand up to her subtly blushing cheek.

Her eyelids sink like rocks in an empty ocean full of air as Tylior comes bursting through the door. “Aofil!” he shouts, not entirely sure if he should try and drag the spiders on Aofil away, or not.

“For two,” Muffet repeats with her hand now catching her heavy chin underneath her grumpy frown. She snaps her finger on three of her other hands, and the spiders leading Aofil through their waltz of wobbling jump off.

It takes a few steps for Aofil to regain their balance, and when they do, they meet a sour stare from Muffet. Almost triple as sour, because of the number of her eyes. She nods to outside one of the windows. “I’ll send a spider out with a spider doughnut for you two.”

Aofil barely manages to brush off their shoulders before their ears send the signal to halt all processes currently happening with Aofil’s body! They have to clarify this.

“For free?” falls out of Aofil’s mouth.

Muffet turns around, grumbling to herself. “Yes,” she answers before taking some quick steps into the kitchen.

Her cheeks are as red as her flowing dress.

A startled, borderline embarrassingly sounding, yelp escapes from Tylior. Aofil swivels around to see a spider with a menu hoisting itself down towards Tylior. He takes the menu, and holds it like it’s about to bite him any second now.

Another spider hands Aofil a menu as well. It hangs for a second or two, staring at Aofil, before zipping back up into the wooden rafters.

“What the fuck, Sevol?” Tylior mumbles, as he and Aofil seat themselves just outside the Spider Cafe. The sun peeks out from behind some clouds, shining warm light over the two friends. “Why did you recommend this place?”

“Every meal is an adventure with the monsters, Tyl.”

He barely hears Aofil. “Yeah, I know that it was with Sev, but I thought that was just her. You were literally dragged into the store, Aofil. By spiders! And that one of them was huge! Then the one behind the counter said she would give you free doughnuts.”

As if on cue, a handful of spiders descend with two plates with one doughnut presented on each plate. One for Tylior, and one for Aofil.

“Could we get some water?” Aofil asks one of the spiders. “Or do you want something else, Tyl? Coffee?”

“Sure, I can go with some coffee.”

“Two cups of coffee, then. And some water, just in case.”

The waiter spiders skittle back inside through a gap in the wall.

“You seem familiar with all of this to the point of it being unsettling, Aof.” Tylior feels a need to say. An extreme need, judging by the tone of his voice. “Do you know the owner or something?”

“Something like that,” Aofil answers before diving behind the menu. “It’s a long story,” they add from behind the pictures of food and numbers stating ridiculous prices.

“They must be tangled up or something, because you’re full of long stories, Aofil. No chance in hell that none of them are correlated.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Aofil lowers the menu. “Now that we’re here, what is it you want to know?”

Tylior checks around him to see if the two of them are alone. There are some monsters a couple of tables away, but they’re busy with their own talking to catch Aofil and Tylior’s.

He leans forward with his forearms flat on the table, and his hands clasped together. “How are you, Aofil? Really, how do you feel?”

“I’m tired.” Aofil sighs. They extend their hand to catch the cup of coffee carefully lowered into their reach. “Some time ago was the first night of I don’t even know how many nights that I actually fell asleep peacefully, and even that was hard fought as I tossed and turned for a long while. I got a lot of nights ahead of me before I’ve slept off what I need to.”

“It’s a step forward though, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Must be a huge one if you’re saying it yourself, Aof. I’m glad to hear it.”

Aofil agrees with a nod. “Yeah, it is.”

“So what did you do? You said you did some soul searching. What do you mean by that? If you’re comfortable talking about it, that is.”

“I don’t know, Tylior. I don’t really want to.”

Tylior puts up a hand to show that it’s no problem. “It’s fine, Aofil. I get it. Get that you don’t want to talk about it. I ain’t got the foggiest what actually happened for you to turn around this well.”

“Lot of things.”

“That was one of my guesses, yes.”

The coffee is strong, and is surprisingly devoid of spiders. Aofil likes it, and they have another sip. “I’m kinda the reason that this city even exists. One of the reasons. I might sound like bragging, and I hope that one day I’ll see it as bragging, but when I arrived here, it was as if the entire weight of it was on my shoulders. Turns out that I’m a human, and that sometimes I make mistakes, and that sometimes I can’t be trusted to fix them myself. Meeting you, Tylior, was one of those mistakes.”

Tylior samples some coffee himself after waiting patiently for a couple of spiders to place a jug of water along with two glasses on the table. “I’m certain there’s more to it than that, Aofil, so I’m gonna let you continue before I also make a mistake.”

He sure has patience, and for that Aofil is unbelievably grateful.

“My mistake was trying to run away instead of facing what I’d done. I brought a monster to life, and then I just fucked off from it, hoping that it would never catch up with me.” Aofil throws their arm up for a second. “Hard to run away from something when it’s a part of you. I’m only slightly exaggerating.” Aofil presses their thumb and index finger together while closing one eye and narrowing the other. “And by that I mean slightly.”

Tylior nods as he digest it all. He lifts his cup up to his mouth to drink again, but suddenly his expression furrows, and he tilts his head while locking his eyes on Aofil. “You sure that your last name isn’t actually Frankenstein?”

Aofil exhales a wheezy chuckle. “Is that what you’re having your class read at the moment?”

“Maybe.” Tylior sips loudly on his coffee. “Maybe.”

“But yeah, I tried to escape everything that had happened to me. For good reasons, at the time. It was just so much. I couldn’t stand to be near them. It hurt too much, it reminded me too much. I had to get away. I had to close them out of my future chapters.”

“By them you mean the monsters?” Tylior wants to make clear.

“Yeah, the monsters. The ones I met, the ones I made friends, almost family, with.”

“Almost?” Tylior wants to make clear again.

“Maybe later I can say that they are, but not now. It’s too early for me.”

“I see. So the past was haunting you, and only by confronting the past, and by telling it that it was haunting you, did it stop haunting you.”

“More or less. Something like that.”

“Gotcha,” Tylior ends. He leans back in his chair, and moves his hands behind his head for support. “The important thing is that it sounds that for you, the past is now finally the past, and that you can move forward from it. It’s good to hear that from you, Aofil. It really is. It takes a huge weight off of me as well.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to without you, Tyl. So thank you for that. From the bottom of my soul.”

“I don’t know much about souls,” he admits with a quick shrug, “but coming from you, someone who the last time I spoke with treated magic like water on an oil fire, I’m absolutely convinced that you mean well.”

“I do.”

“Nice!” Tylior moves himself upright in his chair, and claps his hands together. “I’ll send you my consultation fee in the mail once I get your new address.”

Aofil laughs. It’s good, it’s relieving. It’s been far too long.

But now it’s here, and Aofil’s never gonna let it go.

“Isn’t it enough that I got you a free doughnut?” they reply with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh yeah!” Tylior exclaims, as if he suddenly remembered that he has a doughnut to eat. “You did. I guess it depends how good it tastes. I can consider knocking off a minute or two from the many years we’ve known each other if it’s tasty. Does the owner make it by herself? Doughnut made by a spider?”

“From,” Aofil corrects while reaching for their own.

Tylior sighs and rolls his eyes at Aofil. “Made from a spider, then.”

“Plural.”

Tylior shakes his head and scoffs. He regrets it immediately after taking a bite.

“Chew fast,” Aofil suggest before taking a bite of their own. “Otherwise the spiders will escape.”

Tylior’s face turn paler than Aofil’s fur. He stares at the doughnut, and a little spider crawls out of his mouth.

Aofil follows it with their finger. “There goes one.” It jumps down on Tylior’s plate, and scurries off across the street.

Tylior slams the doughnut down, and heaps a great mouthful of water. He rinses his mouth, and lobs it all over the paved road. “W-w-w-w-hat?” he stutters out in disbelief.

Aofil glances into the shop. Luckily Muffet didn’t catch Tylior spitting out the water. She does however catch Aofil looking at her through the glass. Aofil waves the bitten doughnut in their hand at her and shoots her a smile.

She turns away, but shoots a quick peek over her shoulder before occupying herself with an oven.

Aofil stretches over the table towards Tylior’s plate. “I’m guessing you’ve had your fill.”

“Why did you recommend this?” he mutters to himself. “Why, Sevoltne?”

Aofil takes that as a no, and bring Tylior’s doughnut over to their own plate. They flick a crumb away with a tiny spider attached to it from the table.

They miss it as the crumb bounces away.

And then their plate starts bouncing.

And then Aofil starts bouncing in their chair.

What the hell? An earthquake? Magic? Or-

Loud steps round the street corner, and a long shadow stretches all the way to Aofil. They drop their doughnut, and it takes the opportunity to escape in tandem with Tylior’s.

He also looks up from his confusion. As he turns around, he flinches into the table. Water and coffee spills, and pours through the crack in the wooden table.

At the end of the street stands Aofil’s house. The home they sold at Mt. Ebott. It stands… It stands on two legs. Two pink and black legs, with shoes the size of Tylior’s car, and heels as tall as the streetlights.

The kitchen window is opened, and a blue head pops out. “Aofil!” Undyne shouts with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Alphys!” she then screams with her head turned inwards. “Get this house over there! I want to see their face!”

What the absolute hell have they gone and done now?

Undyne’s yelling is drowned out by the deafening steps of the house walking closer on legs so polished it almost melts the area around it.

“...Awesome, right?” she finishes as the house stops next to Aofil. “You look hilarious with your face like that, Aofil! Why are you so baffled? It’s only your house, you know! Ngahahahaha!”

Aofil’s neck almost breaks as they look up to meet her.

Undyne sees that, and again turns her head inside the house. “Lower, Alphys!”

Aofil’s never heard anything as loud as an entire house squatting down. The sound has monsters from the entire street open their windows and head out their doors to see what the hell is going on. Muffet takes one peek outside, and then goes back inside, shaking her head.

“We got you your house back, Aofil!” Undyne yells, now only a single story above Aofil. “You want a ride?”

A cupboard behind Undyne opens up, and its content, consisting of various sized metal pans and pots, spills out. Before she can react, one lands on her like a helmet, and she stumbles around. More than a handful make it through the window opening, but they all land in a newly formed spider web that’s made in an instant.

Aofil nods towards the spider standing in her restaurant’s door. “Thank you, Muffet.” they say with a smile.

“Are you gonna order anytime soon?” she asks back with her arms crossed.

“Are we?” Aofil shoots the question over to Tylior, who just sits still with his mouth wide opened. A fair reaction, so Aofil’s not gonna hold it against them.

Muffet looks up towards Undyne finally managing to get the pot off her head in the kitchen window.“Are you gonna eat too?” Muffet asks irritably.

“Uhh...No?” comes a very flustered answer.

“Then stop blocking my cafe!” Muffet commands. She lifts one hand up, ready to snap.

“Alphys!” Undyne shouts in a panic as she shuts the kitchen window. “Get us out of here!”

The image of their own house running scared down the street using a pair of pink and black legs wearing high heels is never gonna leave Aofil, but it’s a hell a lot of better than what they’ve gone through. For now though, lunch. As soon as Tylior comes back to his senses.

If he ever comes back.

Aofil’s gonna do him a solid and order so that he has something to eat should he come back. The menu only has one thing without spiders in it, so Aofil’s pretty sure what he’d order anyway.

“Could we get a refill of some water and coffee, Muffet?”

But she’s already stormed off inside.

“A-Aofil?” Tylior manages to squeeze out of himself.

“Hm?”

“D-does this happen every time you eat with the monsters?”

“More or less.”

Tylior sinks into his palms with his elbow against the table.

“I think I might be the one scared of magic now, Aof.”


	105. Reason for the call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Falls: Change Of Heart(s) is a silly little one-off I wrote as dessert for the somewhat bitter vegetables served previously. It is non-canon, but it is well worth the read for the fun I had writing it, and hopefully also for the fun you will have reading it.
> 
> [ Cover art provided by the wonderful BlackRazorBill!](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/)

The last drops of the cheap and hurried coffee hits Aofil's tongue. Their tongue recoils from the heat, but it's not enough to scold it. With a sigh through their lips, Aofil removes the cover from their paper cup to confirm that yep, it is indeed empty. They dispose of it into a nearby trashcan.

Calling in the dead of night like this? Good thing it's Friday. No, wait, it's past midnight. It's Saturday. Or Aofil-please-hurry-we-need-you-here-and-then-hang-up-without-giving-Aofil-time-to-answerday.

Aofil could sure go for another coffee, they have a sneaking suspicion on the account of it being the monsters. They're never cooking up something simple. On top of it, they need Aofil's help? What have they gone and done now? If Alphys called to settle another anime discussion with Undyne, Aofil swears...

Or they would if they didn't feel so damn tired.

The gravel path up to Alphys and Undyne's house scrunches under their shoes. It’s the only sound present in the chilly night currently hanging over Aofil’s head. It’s a cloudless evening, so they’re not worried about tripping over whatever of Alphys’ invention that might be out and about doing whatever it's designed to do.

Silhouettes of various sizes are scurrying back and forth in the lit windows. Aofil would open their eyes wider to see exactly who it is if they had any energy left. The coffee they bought is enough to get them to the front door, but to be awake further they’re gonna need something stronger. Maybe Alphys can whip something up once Aofil's inside.

The doorbell jingles the familiar anime theme song when pressed. Season one of Mew Mew. Not as good as season two, according to Aofil, but to each their own. It's not like they're gonna fight Undyne and Alphys over it. That would just be silly. The two of them do it plenty to not have to involve Aofil.

They take a step back as to not be hit by the door when Undyne eventually kicks it open.

But nobody came.

Aofil rings the bell again. Strange, the door usually opens before Aofil even has time to ring once.

After another half a minute of waiting Aofil finally hears footsteps closing in from inside the house. They don’t recognize the sound of them though. Does Alphys have other guests? Human guests, it sounds like. They've spent enough time with the monsters to recognize the difference between soles of skin, scale, bone, and fur. The silhouettes in the window look strikingly like humans to boot.

Are they having a party? Human party? Intriguing.

The door is opened, and it’s indeed a human. A hunched over human, tucking at her white shirt, and tapping her fingers together. Almost like a human version of Alphys.

“Hey,” Aofil greets with a nod. “Is Alphys home?”

“Alphys!” shouts Undyne from the living room. “Is that Aofil?”

The hunched over human turns around.

“What?” slips out of Aofil. Their mouth is locked half opened, bewildered and stunned. Their eyes widen, despite their tiredness. Why did this human turn around when Undyne called for Alphys? What's going on?

“Y-yes, i-it is,” the hunched human answers in Alphys stead, and with her voice..

Why did she answer in Alphys’ stead? And with Alphys’ voice?

A familiar red bundle of hair flies out from the living room, and Aofil sighs in relief. Must be Undyne’s.

Their sigh turns into a startled cough as what follows isn’t the blue scaly hue of Undyne’s face, but the smooth and darkened skin of a human wearing Undyne’s eye patch.

The human smiles, but with a large gap between her rows of teeth. “Great! Maybe now we can figure out this mess.”

The smiling human turns her head, but her nose gets caught on the door frame. “Ngah!” she curses while rubbing it carefully.

“What?” falls out of Aofil again.

With tears forming in her eyes, despite the now frowning human’s determined grumble not to let them, she looks back at Aofil. “I really hope you can solve this!” she groans before turning back into the living room, and ricocheting her chest on the same door frame.

Slow as a stone statue, and with the same face as one, Aofil looks back down at the hunched over human still with them in the hallway. She wrings her hands together, and then releases them. Almost as if she’s scared by the feeling. “Y-yeah, w-we need your help, Aof-fil.”

“Who are we?”

“W-we are w-we,” the woman repeats. She puts her hands over her face, and again jolts them away after a second with a squeal.

A very, very, familiar squeal.

Aofil’s eyebrows shoot through the roof in disbelieving realization. “Alphys?”

The woman nods, her entire face blushing in embarrassment. She contemplates putting her hands up to her face again, but decides against it.

Aofil lifts a finger towards the living room. “And that was...”

“U-Undyne.”

“I see.” Aofil says, despite not accepting it as real.

“What the hell is taking so long?” screams an unfamiliar and annoyed female voice.

“Asriel,” calms Toriel’s voice, “be patient. Aofil will do everything they can to help us.”

“Asriel?” Aofil repeats slowly. They are still not believing their ears.

The woman, who apparently is Alphys, not that Aofil can fathom it, nods. “Y-yes.”

“I… How?”

A gust of wind brushes past Aofil, but the chilly feeling against their leg is immediately replaced by a pair of warm cushions. Aofil looks down, and a short and grinning woman stares up at them.

“a bit too close?”

Before Aofil can say something, not counting their complete loss for words, the blue hooded female grabs a hold of Alphys’ arm. When she reaches out to Aofil she halts her hand, and looks down on her chest surrounding Aofil’s legs. With an inquisitive hum she pockets her free hand. “i wonder if this works,” the woman thinks out loud before shortcutting away.

“neat, it works,” she confirms after arriving in the middle of Alphys’ and Undyne’s living room, surprised and pleased over having brought Aofil along. A bit of pride too, but she won’t show it.

“HUMAN!”

Aofil barely has time to catch their bearings before they’re smothered in the embrace of a woman at least a head taller than them. Their surprised yelp doesn’t escape the two breasts pushing against either side of their lobes.

“DO NOT BE AFRAID OF THIS ALTERNATE FORM, AOFIL!” the woman reassures while securing both her hands on Aofil’s shoulders. “FOR YOU SEE, IT IS I”

No…

“THE GREAT”

Oh god no…

“PAPYRUS!”

Please god no!

“That’s quite enough, Papyrus,” a deep yet still feminine voice commands. “Please, release Aofil.”

Aofil instinctively gasps for air as their head is released from the fleshy ferrule squeezing their head. The air doesn’t even reach their lungs before the sight of the figures surrounding them forces it right back out of them.

“Aofil,” calms Toriel’s voice, but her calming is completely undone when Aofil spots her. The same soothing eyes are now green. Surrounded in skin, not fur. Her face is still gently round, but the flatness of it combined with her familiar smile is crossing all the wrong wires in Aofil’s head.

She’s flanked on both side by similar looking women. One shorter, and one taller than her. The smaller one sits with her arms crossed over her chest, and struggling to ignore the feeling. She tries to blow the golden hair away from her eyes, but it falls back almost immediately.

The larger one sits tense as a violin string. Hands on her knees, and not moving a single muscle. Struggling to not look down, and struggling not to meet any and all eyes around the room. Her physique is imposing, all two of them.

“Asgore?” Aofil asks the tall one.

She nods faintly.

Aofil moves their perplexed finger to the shorter one.

“Asriel.”

The shorter one sighs deeply, “Yes,” and curls her slender lips in disgust at the sound of her own voice.

“W-we w-wanted to do something s-special for F-Frisk’s b-birthday,” Alphys starts explaining before pausing as she’s distracted by the feeling of her lips.

“Alright,” spills out of Aofil’s stunned mouth, like a tumbleweed falling off a cliff’s edge.

“B-but something w-went w-wrong.”

“I can...I can see that.”

“could we try and hurry this up?” Sans drums on the tops of her chest. “my back is not used to these.”

Aofil tries their best to ignore Sans immense quandary. Try being the operative word. “Before we continue with anything, the less anyone of you talk, the better,” Aofil states, very firmly. They have to get some form of control over this before they have to resort to slamming their head against the nearest wall. “I’ve no idea what’s happening, and I need a moment to collect myself.”

“so you don’t want to hear my theory whether or not having sex with us will solve this?”

Aofil snaps their head to Sans, but then immediately snaps it back when Sans winks seductively at them. “Sans! What did I just say?”

“i’m feeling a bit warm in these clothes as well, maybe i should remove some.”

Aofil’s cheeks strain as they’re dragged into an uncomfortable smile. “How the fuck is this funny to you?” they plead as if possessed by Burgerpants.

Sans shrugs, making sure that her chest follows her palms up. “i’m just trying to make the breast of the situation.”

“SANS!”

Papyrus is just making it worse!

“And why are you chuckling?” Asriel asks Toriel with a scowl.

“Just! Please! Everyone! Shut up!” Aofil yells while slicing the air with their arms. Once their desperate remark has been made, they take a breath. “Alphys, explain. For the love of everything, please explain.”

“W-we’re h-humans.”

“human females,” Sans adds.

“Zip it!” Aofil growls back at her.

Sans complies by playing with the one on her hoodie, dragging it up and down quickly. “gotcha,” she winks again with a snap of her finger.

Aofil looks quickly away. “Continue,” they beg of Alphys.

“W-we w-wanted to s-surprise Frisk. J-just for a s-short w-while. I d-didn’t mean for i-it to b-be like t-this.”

Alphys again debates with herself whether or not to put her hands over her face. She reaches for her tail, but grabs only air.

Aofil drags a hand through their hair and sighs through their lips at all of this. “Ok, so what now? Even better, how the hell did this happen?”

All heads turn towards Alphys, and she hides her face between her hands. This time her embarrassment overwhelms the alien feeling, and the hands stays there.

Aofil should’ve guessed it. Who else was a suspect, really?

“to be fair,” Sans begins, still running the zipper of her sweatshirt up and down. “we did kinda ask it of her.”

“To be turned into human females?” Aofil asks with their hands pressed against their lobes. “What!”

“no, no, no,” Sans reassures.

Aofil’s hands returns down. “Good.”

“just humans.”

Just to shoot back up again! “God dammit!”

“It’s true though!” Undyne intervenes. “We wanted to be humans for Frisk’s birthday.”

Aofil turns their stunned and pleading hands towards Undyne. “But why?” they sigh, annoyed by the confusion going on. Just why?! “Why would you do this?”

“YOU SEE, HUMAN!” Papyrus lowers her finger, and strokes her chin for a second. “YOU SEE, HUMAN, JUST LIKE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM, WE WANTED TO DO A SWAP OF SORTS! MONSTERS TO HUMANS, AND HUMAN TO MONSTERS!”

“So buy a costume?” Aofil proposes to deaf ears. Ears that are not supposed to be there! “Mettaton must sell something useful for that!” They pause for a fearful second as something dawns on them, and it’s not the sun outside. It’s still very much midnight. “Don’t tell me that he’s a human as well?”

Alphys shakes her head. “N-no.”

A sigh of relief escapes Aofil, but it’s cut short. “Wait!” Aofil’s head is flooded with another thought thought. “When you said humans to monsters?”

“you and frisk,” Sans answers, still fiddling with her zipper. “but i guess that plan is postponed. or should i say, postboned?”

“No, actually,” Aofil retorts immediately. “You’re a human now, so the joke doesn’t work anymore.”

“HA! FINALLY!”

“heh, true.” Sans shrugs and blows her newfound lips. “but come on, it was just a chest.”

Papyrus sighs back into the sofa with her arms crossed in defeat.

“A-actually, h-he’s s-still a s-skeleton,” Alphys says with a laughter meant for confidence, but producing the complete opposite. She blushes hard. Harder, that is.

Sans snaps a finger to Alphys. “thank you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Undyne replies. “He looks like a human.”

“she,” Sans corrects. “thank you very much.”

“Stop!” Aofil yells. Silencing the room. “We’re not discussing semantics about Sans’ pun! I know that I started it, but can we just stop! The fact that it takes precedence over you being humans is just...”

Aofil exhales to try and calm themselves down. It doesn’t really get their energy down as low as they want to though. “Alphys!” they accidentally shout.

She jumps as the volume of Aofil’s voice startles her, and without her tail to help her balance, she falls over backwards.

Aofil squeezes the bridge of their nose while helping Alphys up with their other hand. “Sorry. Let’s just,” they sigh deeply to again try and relax a bit. “Let’s start from the beginning. It all began with Papyrus proposing that you all become humans for Frisk’s birthday.”

Alphys nods.

“And then?”

“W-well, I c-checked around f-for some monster magic that c-could help. I found that Mettaton likes to e-employ monsters with shaping m-magic. S-so that his guests c-can look perfect enough for his show.”

Aofil nods to that. “I have first hand experience with that, yes.”

“A-and then I t-tried inc-corporating s-some of your human DNA i-into the magic. O-our s-souls are t-the same, b-but there’s a s-shell of illus-sion o-outside that giv-ves us thes-se bodies.”

Aofil doesn’t know enough magic to dispute that. They know barely anything, but that’s beside the point. They are familiar with human biology though, and they’re not sure if Alphys is.

“What kind of DNA?”

“T-the ones t-hat you get from your p-parents. The X one.”

Aofil waits for Alphys to continue, but to their fear she doesn’t. They shake their head slowly. “No.” This was what they were worried about.

Alphys’ breathing turns into worried gasps, “N-no?”

Aofil lifts up two fingers. “There are two. One X, and one Y. Males have X and Y, and females have double X.”

“so you have-”

“Shut it!”

Alphys breathing stop, and her eyes widen with deep dread. “T-two? Y?”

“y not.”

“Not helping in the damn slightest here, Sans,” Aofil remarks with a snarl.

She flicks her hair away from her face. “just because i’m a girl?”

“Don’t fucking play that card, dude. I swear.”

“dude?”

Aofil rubs their pounding templates, and Asgore is forced to step in. She clears her throat, pausing to let her new voice sink in. “Sans,” she pauses again to let it sink in further, “would you kindly?”

Sans bows her head. “if my queen wishes so.”

Asgore is none too pleased with that comment, but she lets it slide. “Thank you.” Just barely though. Toriel is debating whether or not she can though. Asriel is face deep into her hands, regretting every single second she’s spent here, and will further spend here.

“Moving on!” Aofil tries desperately to. “What happened next?”

Undyne whistles innocently. Although the fact that she started is proof enough that she’s guilty of that she’s trying to be innocent about. Aofil moves their eyes to hers, which she quickly averts.

“Undyne?” Aofil asks in the same tone they would a lightly trained dog. With same intentions as if the dog had just pooped on the floor.

Her whistling becomes louder and, she thinks, more innocently. Aofil isn’t letting this fish off the hook though. Ex fish? They force a smile that even they feel is way too plastered, and try again. “Undyne?” Aofil asks as nonchalantly as possible, but it’s as innocent as Undyne’s whistling.

“S-she-” Alphys starts before her words are drowned out by Undyne’s borderline screaming.

“Please tell me, Undyne. You’re the one that called this a mess,” Aofil reminds.

Undyne’s whistling trails off, and she looks around the room before sighing. “I wanted to feel how it was,” she admits.

“How what was?”

“Being human, before the party. So that I would know how much stronger I would be as a human so that I could show it off to Frisk!”

Yeah, sure. Whatever. “And how is it?” Aofil sighs.

Undyne taps on her nose. “This is always in the way! I can’t see anything. How can you be stronger than us with this thing always blocking your view?”

“You have one eye...” Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder. “And the Dreemurrs have muzzles in the way.” They follow their thumb with their head. “Well, obviously not now, but you get my point. You’ll get used to it.”

Before Alphys can point the obvious out, Aofil realizes. “Wait, no, don’t get used to it. We’re gonna fix this.”

“And these!”

Aofil doesn’t even have to look to know what Undyne means. “Yes, those. It’s a human feature. We’re not gonna go into detail about what they’re for.”

“so soft...”

Aofil’s eye twitches violently. “Before Sans drives me completely up the wall and through Mt. Ebott!” They turn back to Alphys. “What did Undyne do afterwards, Alphys?”

“S-she t-tested it.”

“Only on herself?”

“That was the plan,” Undyne defends, “but it kinda, well, exploded.”

Aofil’s not surprised. Nor are they surprised that they aren’t surprised.

“I-it seems to be l-located to this h-house though.” Alphys eyes widen again. “At l-least I h-hope so.”

“I bought a coffee from a monster on my way here,” Aofil recalls. “So it seems that you were lucky.”

Asriel scoffs loudly, and then grumbles over the sound of it.

“Considering what could’ve happened,” Aofil adds. “And then?”

“Well,” Toriel starts. “I was putting the finishing touches on a pie of mine when I noticed a fairly sweet smell. Asriel here,” Toriel motions for her offspring, but said offspring pushes the hand away.

“I don’t want to see your hand,” Asriel says hard.

“princess asriel, why the long face? or the lack of, in this case.”

With a glare that could melt stone, Asriel grits her teeth against Sans. “Be careful that you don’t split your lips with that smile of yours now that you have a pair, Sans.”

“heh,” Sans winks. “good one. not the only pair we’ve been blessed with though.” Asriel doesn’t accept the praise though, and turns away her head. “don’t be like that, my princess,” Sans laments with more fake remorse than a Mettaton branded soap opera. “let down your hair, asriel, now that you can. are you jealous because mine are bigger than yours?”

An incredibly loud cough from Toriel silences the room.

“i’m just asking.”

Toriel is unsure how to react, but she composes herself. Aofil can tell that it takes some great effort from her to do it. “Anyway, Asriel peeked his-”

Asriel’s head twitches at the word ‘his’. Her hair flops down over her eyes again, and she forces it behind her ear.

“you’re catching on to this very quickly, princess asriel.”

“Peeked his head,” Toriel continues after a short pause, “around the corner asking if the tea was ready. Asgore said from the living room that he hadn’t put in on yet, and that’s the last thing I remember while still being...” Toriel clears her throat while dragging her hand up and down herself. “Not like this.”

“And then you woke up human?”

“just like that book. except we’re not ugly, if i do say so myself.”

Toriel nods. “Yes, Aofil. We all woke up human. It was a strange feeling, skin. Still is, mind you. No offense though!”

Aofil puts up a calm hand. “None taken. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not as tough as my scales though!” Undyne mutters as she pinches the skin on her arm. “It’s so elastic! How is it good for defense? Absorption? Seems to be easy to pierce through. It might be more resilient to blunt attacks, now that I think about it. We’ll have to test later!”

Toriel silences Undyne with a quick and piercing look before continuing, “The first human I saw wasn’t me though, it was Asriel. I didn’t know at the time, but when he asked, even with the voice he has now, I could tell.”

“Mom...” Asriel mutters under her breath.

“I was scared too, my child,” Toriel comforts, but to a questionable effect.

“I ALMOST DIED!” Papyrus informs. “BUT USING MY NEWFOUND BRAIN AND THE POWER WITHIN I QUICKLY DEDUCED THAT IT WAS BECAUSE MY NEWFOUND BRAIN AND THE POWER WITHIN WAS SCREAMING FOR ME TO BREATHE! SO I DID!”

Papyrus takes a large demonstrative inhale. Her clothing tenses to the point where Aofil looks away as to not see it burst apart. They look back when they feel Papyrus’ breath against their neck, and she bows proudly. “MY HEAD FEELS STRANGE!”

“Yes, we have to breathe, but not like that. Just do it normally and it won’t feel like you’re light headed.”

“how can he when his head is filled now?”

Aofil is at the same time both annoyed and relieved that Sans’ zipper is still functional. They want to run it all the way up to cover her face, but she probably has a quip planned for that, so Aofil’s not gonna give Sans the satisfaction.

Aofil makes a guess as to what happened next. “So you all eventually made it to the living room?” They get it confirmed by the unanimous nodding. “And then decided to call me?”

“Not really,” Undyne butts in. “Alphys joined us a bit later as she tried to figure out a solution.”

“I d-din’t find one,” Alphys admits.

“as we can see,” Sans remarks, and nimbly dodges a small spear thrown by Undyne. A very small spear. So small that it doesn’t even break the fabric of the sofa Sans is sitting on. It bounces on the pillow before landing silently on the sofa pillow and almost disappearing into the pink carpet on the floor.

“You seem to still be able to use your magic,” Aofil says while tapping their chin. “Don’t know if that helps or anything. Seems a bit weak though.”

Undyne’s fists clench with anger as Sans picks up the spear and measures it against her pinky finger. It barely covers it.

“N-no, I alread-dy conf-firmed that when I m-made a v-voice mod-dulator for my p-phone.”

“To use so that I wouldn’t hear that yours were different when you called me? Yours is the same though, Alphys.”

“No,” laments a sighing Asgore, “to use so that I could cancel the human meeting that was planned around this time.”

“Right,” Aofil acknowledges. “So, you can use magic as humans, but it’s weaker. Why is it weaker?”

“W-we’re n-not r-real humans, as f-far as I can t-tell. Our s-souls aren’t as powerf-ful as a human’s.”

Undyne makes the obvious more obvious by shouting, “I tested it!”

Alphys nods. “It’s the r-reason the house still stand-ds. I h-have an idea as to w-why we’re like this though.”

Alphys stops. For what reason Aofil struggles to find out, “So yeah, pray tell, what’s the reason?” they ask with their arms outstretched.

“Oh,” Alphys realizes. “I t-think t-that the magic is surrounding our souls, so our forms are based on that instead of our own. It’s like a shell. We’re still ourselves inside, not in body though, but in soul. It’s also why our magic is a bit,” Alphys looks over to Sans who’s picking her teeth with Undyne’s tiny spear, “weaker. It’s being filtered through this shell around our soul, and also through our new bodies. We’re not accustomed to them. Magically, that is. Physically is another story, I think. We haven’t really tested that. I don’t think we have actual organs or such like you do, but that the functions are mimicked by the magic this shell produces. Papyrus doesn’t really have to breathe, but the shell around his soul is imitating the need. His phantom brain needs oxygen from his phantom lungs, otherwise it starts acting up. It’s kinda like, what’s it called, placebo? Just because the reason is fake doesn’t mean that the outcome is.”

Papyrus takes another large inhale of air. “STILL FEELS FUNNY!”

“Great,” Aofil lies. “So how do we solve it?”

“i still have an idea,” Sans reminds. He flicks Undyne’s spear away and it fades away before hitting the ground.

“And you’re volunteering to be the first one?” Aofil asks in an attempt to shut Sans down.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teases with another wink.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to surprise you by saying no, Sans,” Aofil informs with a tidal wave of a disgusted undertone. “I hope you can survive.”

“i may,” she puts her hand over her chest, “but can my heart?” Sans’ brow furrows as her hand moves up and down on her chest. “wow, this is really weird feeling it thump. you can say that i’m heartfelt.”

“Fantastic,” Aofil lies again. “Good for you, Sans.”

She bows her head.

Aofil returns to Alphys. “But seriously.”

“i was,” Sans intercepts.

“No, you weren’t,” Aofil calls out over their shoulder. “Alphys, how do we fix this?”

“I was t-thinking of r-replicating the effec-ct, but the ot-ther way around.”

“Which means making me into a monster?” Aofil runs their hands over their face. “Isn’t it?” They beckon for Alphys to leave the room with them. “Is there somewhere we can speak alone?”

“P-perhaps outside?”

Should work. Aofil nods and follows Alphys out the front door. The night is chilly, but Aofil’s brain is on the highest gear, so for them the temperature is perfect.

“I-I und-derstand if you’re n-not comfort-table with t-this, Aofil.”

“I really am not, Alphys. Not considering what happened back at Mt Ebott with the Soul Extractor.”

“T-this w-would be different though,” Alphys defends. “It w-wouldn’t b-be like a f-fusion. If it h-helps, then I’m feeling l-like myself. Barring well, the skin and,” Alphys taps her nose, “this.” She spins around carefully as to not fall over. “And not having a tail.” She ruffles her hair. “And having this itch. I kinda like it t-though. R-reminds me of Mew Mew’s companion during episode six of-”

Aofil is looking anything but convinced, and that’s not even counting Alphys comparing herself to that waste of a character in Mew Mew season one.

“S-so you know...” Alphys taps her fingernails together, to get a close as a recognizable feeling as possible. “N-not that big of a d-deal.”

Her very easily spotted lie doesn’t manage to convince Aofil, and they sigh with their head in their palm. “God dammit.”

A suppressed yelp from Alphys forces Aofil to lift their head. “What?” they ask, but get no answer. They follow Alphys’ eyes down the gravel path, and almost bites their tongue to force it from not screaming.

Frisk waves happily as they walk up the gravel path.

“God dammit!” Aofil repeats under their breath.


	106. Not suited for children

How deep can this hole of stupid fucking shit go? Aren’t they already at bedrock?

Aofil quickly ushers Alphys into the house while ignoring Frisk’s perplexed look. They raise a quizzical finger against the hunched over human Aofil is not too subtlety punting inside the house. “Who is-”

“Frisk!” Aofil greets as they slam the door closed and elbow the keypad mounted next to the door. They hit it square on the camera, causing the keypad to send out a small cluster of sparks. Aofil rubs their elbow while gritting their teeth. They definitely felt a shard of glass penetrate their skin, but that can be handled later.

Frisk has to be handled now!

“What are you doing here?” Aofil asks as naturally as possible.

Frisk keeps their perplexed look centered on Aofil. “Who was-”

“The human? She is just a friend of mine!”

Technically, Aofil’s not lying.

Frisk’s eyes shift towards the window. The silhouettes are still there, arguing about something. To Aofil’s immense luck their voices are distorted through the glass, and muffled enough that they can’t catch what’s being said. “So those are-”

“My friends,” Aofil corrects, making sure that plural form comes through loud and clear. “Plural friends of mine.”

Frisk’s brows furrow deeper than Aofil could ever imagine.

“My place is a bit too small to accommodate them all, so I asked Undyne and Alphys if I could borrow their house for the evening.” Aofil puts on an innocent smile. “They’re both out at the moment. Some anime event or something.”

“Your house is bigger though?” Frisk feels a need to remind. “Or did it run away?”

“Did you manage to convince Aofil to be turned into a monster?” asks a voice through the door, furrowing Frisk’s brow even further. They move to look through the window, but Aofil stops them, instantly raising the suspicions to the exposed moon and beyond.

“Adult stuff!” Aofil blurts out. They are probably gonna regret it further down the line, but it’s the only thing they can figure out at the moment.

Frisk raises an eyebrow, and Aofil hopes that their fading composure will work in their favor.

With a pair of uncomfortable eyes Frisk glances at Aofil’s hand that’s placed on their shoulder. Aofil removes it, and chuckles a, not so, relieved sigh. “So…yeah.”

Frisk’s face indicates clearly that they already know way too much, and they walk down the gravel path to the street while slowly shaking their head.

Once they’re out of audible distance Aofil sighs so heavy they’re afraid they’ll knock down the house. They go for the handle, but the door is locked.

‘Emergency lockdown’ says the busted display with a fair number of missing letters. Aofil knocks on the door, and Alphys opens it carefully. “Are they g-gone?” she asks quietly.

“Frisk?” Aofil enters the house again. “Yeah...” and pauses for a bit to take in that they’re gonna have to figure out how to hand wave away what they said to Frisk. “They’re gone.”

“Good!” Alphys closes the door. “G-good,” and takes a steadying breath. “S-so, about what I s-said?”

Oh yeah…

That….

“Y-you’d h-have to d-do it f-for everyone of u-us, t-too. S-sorry, I should’ve m-mentioned.”

Hole getting deeper!

“Everyone?” Aofil asks with their voice wavering. “Everyone?”

Alphys nods. “M-my plan is to t-try and,” she puts up her hands with the palms facing each other, “someh-how,” she twists one upside down, “t-to counter our human surrounded monster soul with your monster surrounded human soul and,” she claps her hands together, pausing for a brief second to take in the feeling and accept it, “have them fight, and take out each other.”

“And you’re basing this on?”

“A g-guess,” Alphys admits, letting her hands fall down in shame. “It’s all I h-have t-though! Y-your s-soul should b-be m-more sus-scept-tible to the monster s-shell, consid-dering how it is, b-but,” she adds with an upraised finger, “y-you’re s-still a h-human. So you should have n-no problem shaking t-the monster s-shell off if it d-doesn’t work.”

“Lots of ‘should’ here, Alphys. Again,” Aofil puts their hand over their chest, “you’re basing this on?”

“A g-guess,” Alphys admits with her hands over her eyes, “again.”

Aofil blows their lips. “What a mess...”

Alphys curls up as if she still had her tail. “I know… I’m sorry, Aofil.”

“It! Is! Always! There!” Undyne screams from the living room, making Alphys jolt off her feet. “I can’t take my eye off it! It’s so small, but it’s always there!”

Undyne’s so dramatic, but she makes a good point. Alphys wouldn’t lie about Aofil being able to shake the magic off if things get overboard too. They’ve trust her with worse, and if push comes to shove, then Frisk might be able to help. That kid is even more jaded to the monsters’ shenanigans than what Aofil is, and that’s saying very much more than a lot.

And if push comes to shove what Aofil said to Frisk wouldn’t be a lie, however much that helps.

Just one last thing to try and make sure of. “Is it gonna hurt?”

Alphys doesn’t really know how to answer. “W-what do you mean?”

“The transformation, will it hurt?”

“I d-didn’t feel anything.”

“But you were unconscious,” Aofil reminds.

Alphys thinks for a second. “I’m n-not hurting right now eit-ther.”

Another unknown, but it’s an unknown on a pile of unknowns. The wound can only be salted so much before it stops hurting from more.

Aofil sighs, “Fine,” and rubs their face with their hands. “I’m gonna regret it, but fine. How do we do it?”

“I n-need some of your DNA so that I can p-prepare the m-magic.” Alphys produces a swab and a small scissor from her pockets. Aofil’s not sure how to feel about her being this well prepared for Aofil agreeing to this.

“How did you get the first sample you used?” Aofil asks while being careful not to bite down on Alphys swabbing the inside of their chin.

She also cuts off a couple of strands of hair from Aofil’s head for good measure. “Mettaton was k-kind enough to find some for us.”

The swab leaves a bad taste in Aofil’s mouth. Either that, or the image they have of Mettaton choosing, what he would consider, the best human sample. The less thinking Aofil dedicates to that, the better.

Alphys pockets the vial, and turns her head to the rest of the humans sitting in the living room. “W-who’s first?”

Before Alphys even has time to finish the question Undyne stretches her arm as high up as she can. “Me!”

No one else is volunteering, much to Undyne’s pleasure.

She jumps out of her chair with excitement so high it might pop the roof off like a champagne cork. “This is gonna be awesome! Ngaaaaaahahahaha! Fighting a human! As a human! Against a monster! That is a human!”

Her excited heaving while breathing through teeth clenched in anticipation almost drains the entire room of oxygen. Undyne rushes over to Alphys as to hurry this up. “What do you need, Alphee?” She wants this to already have happened!

“S-some of your s-soul essence. I n-need to b-boil your magic d-down so t-that it’s n-not contaminated b-by the shell.”

Undyne’s smile fades into a worried frown.

“N-not liter-rally.”

The smile bounces back up, and Undyne scoops Alphys up. With the squealing human under her arm, she rushes to the basement door, which she flings open with her free hand. “It’s gonna be so awesome!” she repeats with a yell. Her laughter echoes up from the basement. A small pained grunt halts the laughter for a second, but it immediately grows back in strength, even surpassing it.

A minute or so later Undyne, with Alphys in one arm, and a flask of glowing liquid in her other, emerges back up from the basement stairs. She hands the flask to Aofil. “Drink up! I can’t wait!”

Her smile is the biggest Aofil has ever seen, even with her now smaller mouth. They look at the flask. A cyan glow pulsates from the liquid within. The same color as Undyne’s spear. Her grinning face is reflecting in the liquid.

It’s not helping at all.

“D-don’t w-worry about the taste,” Alphys tries to comfort. “It sh-houldn’t be bad.”

“It’s not really the taste that’s the problem,” Aofil admits. “It’s what happens after I swallow it.”

“You’ll become me!” Undyne pats Aofil hard on the back. They almost drop the flask. “Kinda! But still, it’s gonna be awesome!”

If this was any other situation in the world Aofil would’ve appreciated her enthusiasm. Not in this one though, and Aofil is holding one of the reasons in their hand.

“Where are we gonna fight?” they ask to stall for time. Maybe Alphys has an epiphany so that they don’t have to through with this. “In the living room?”

“Nah!” Undyne nods towards the kitchen, and beyond. “In the backyard! Too cramped in here. The living room can barely handle one of me! And we’re gonna fight with two!”

“DO NOT WORRY AOFIL! I BELIEVE IN YOU!” comes Papyrus voice, cheerful as always, encouraging as always. It’s not his actual voice though, which makes the words ring a bit hollow in Aofil’s ears. They want to believe, but it just sounds wrong coming from an actual pair of lips.

Aofil looks down into the liquid. There are so many reasons not to drink it. How much it’ll probably hurt them when they’re transforming, the uncertainty of being able to turn back, and fighting a friend.

The dread of Papyrus permanently having the voice she currently has utterly shatters the reasons against though!

Aofil breathes out one last time through straight teeth and their nose. They shake their head, “What a mess,” and with a last swirl of the liquid inside they throw their head back with the flask against their mouth.

Why does it have to viscous like syrup? And just as sweet? It’s like cough syrup, only harder to swallow. It goes down in a single clump, upsetting Aofil’s stomach before it even reaches that far down.

It doesn’t take long before dizziness takes over. Aofil stumbles forward, and Undyne catches them with their free arm.

“I’ll give you a pass now, but don’t you dare make me look bad by fainting as me later! Ngaaah!”

Aofil’s vision blurs, their entire body feels off. Something’s brewing inside them. Inside their chest. Before they can comprehend what’s happening, their vision turns completely dark.


	107. Orange

“It’s been a while. Didn’t we wake up around now?”

It’s Undyne’s voice, but it sounds weird.

“W-we can’t ex-x-pect that the p-process will take as l-long as it d-did for us.”

And that’s Alphys’, but again, she sounds off somehow. Jeez, this headache.

“They-y’re a human,” Alphys continues, “s-so the m-magic might take longer for t-them.”

“not anymore, they ain’t. the magic sure did a fair number on them.”

Sans? Yeah, that’s him. Or her? Yes, her. He’s a girl now, right. A human girl. A human girl with human brea-

“Ow!”

Aofil presses their hand against their head as they slowly try to sit up. Their vision is still very much a blur, but they can see the shapes of their friends in front of them. Once they feel like they have their balance they let out a tired grunt.

“See!” shouts Undyne! “Told ya!” She rushes towards Aofil. “Wow! Look at you! It’s like I’m looking in a mirror, kinda!”

“you’re a human,” Sans reminds Undyne.

“That’s why I said kinda, Sans!” she shouts back, annoyed. Her tone shifts back to gleeful excitement just as quickly as she turns back to Aofil. “This is gonna be awesome!”

A sudden and cold gust of wind has Aofil lifting their head. Right in front of them is a scaly figure with yellow eyes. Undyne? No, she’s standing next to the blue creature, still as a human. A black vertical iris expands and contracts while Aofil is trying to focus their eyes. Slowly the creature’s details becomes clearer. Is that?

“found a mirror!” Sans smiles proudly.

Mirror?

The iris expands in horror! 

A mirror!

Undyne places her hand on Aofil’s shoulder, and they both freeze up. Aofil moves their head slowly to the foreign feeling on their shoulder.

Underneath the fleshy hand is a layer of scales. The same blue scales as the creature in front of them in the mirror. Their reflection.

Aofil jerks back at the sight and feel. A startled “What?” flies out of them. Sharp and irregular teeth press against their lips as their mouth trembles in confusion, further adding to it.

Undyne removes her hand and looks at it. “Huh!” she says while rubbing her fingers together. “That’s really weird. Your human finger are so soft.” Undyne rubs her thumb on Aofil’s shoulder again, much to their dismay and discomfort. “Really soft!”

Seeing the fright in Aofil’s eyes, Alphys walks up to them with a careful smile. “T-the t-transformation worked, Aofil. H-how do you feel?”

Aofil again stares at their own reflection.

Their ears are gone, replaced by large and red fins, just like Undyne normally has. They try and move them, and the fins move up and down, squeezing and contracting the membrane. The sounds around them change in both pitch and intensity with each stretch and squeeze. It’s very disorienting.

Their hair has turned beaming red. Just like Undyne.

Their mouth now house a set of teeth vastly varying in sizes. Sharp as nails though, and still form a full smile when pressed together. Just like Undyne.

Their skin is light blue, and a mosaic of scales clad every inch of their body. Their form has become a bit slimmer too. Their arms have become firmer though. Aofil flexes, and with a careful hand they feel their biceps. Rough scale against rough scale feels very strange.

Good thing that their biceps feels rock solid though. Sweet! Aofil flexes their other arm as well! Freaking awesome! Ngah!

Woah. Where did that come from?

“Ha ha! Those must be mine as well!” Undyne exclaims loudly with a chuckle seeing Aofil flex. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Yes, it feels great! It feels amazing! Aofil needs to test this. They need to test this against someone strong! A human! Yes! Great! Screw where this is coming from, Aofil wishes that it always was here!

They reach across the sofa and towards the small table housing a Mettaton shaped lamp. With a flick with the backside of their hand they push the lamp off. “Hunk o’ junk,” they whisper. The lamp lands on the sofa with Mettaton’s face down. Just like Aofil wanted it to.

They kick the mirror away, almost knocking it over in the process, to make room for the table. They place th table down with an eager grin and throw down their elbow down on it. Their elbow burrows into the wood, but Aofil barely feels the impact through their scales.

“Undyne!” they yell! “You and me! Come on!”

Undyne looks up from the mirror she barely caught from falling over with a stunned expression on her face.

“Aofil?” wonders Toriel curiously from across the room and with a concerned hand. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aofil sees her conflicted face, but they don’t care. They can’t remember feeling this good before! Feeling this great! “Undyne!” they yell again! “Give me you arm, or are you afraid? You wanted this, right? So come and get it!”

Undyne doesn’t answer. Her mouth hangs open and she can only blink in disbelief.

“A-Aofil?” addresses Alphys with a tap of her fingers. “Y-you m-might be experiencing some-”

Undyne puts her hand over Alphys’ mouth. She stares Aofil down, having regained control over her blinking. Aofil returns the stare, and they flash a challenging smile. A similar one grows on Undyne. “I love this version of Aofil! Can we keep them like this?”

Undyne flips the mirror upright, and then walks up to Aofil while rolling up her sleeve eagerly. She throws her elbow equally hard down on the table. It complains loudly, but to no effect.

She grabs Aofil’s hand. “You may look like me, but if you think I’ll let the imitation beat the original you are sorely mistaken, punk! You’ll be soarly mistaken as well when I’m done with you, human.”

Aofil returns the grip, “Whenever you’re ready,” and wrings it tighter, “human! Ngah!”

Undyne squeals with glee. She returns a loud “Ngah!” back to Aofil. “So long I’ve waited to fight a human!” She tightens the grip between them further, and grabs hold of the edge of the table with her other hand for support. “And when I finally get to fight one they look just like me, and I like them! Ngaaaah! I! Love! This! I’m gonna enjoy the one and only second of our battle before I bury your arm into this table!”

“Count us down!” Aofil orders to the room. For a brief moment no one takes up the offer, but after a simultaneous glare from both Aofil and Undyne to Papyrus, she puts up her hand.

“FIVE!”

Aofil and Undyne return their glares towards each other.

“FOUR!”

They adjust their grips on the straining table.

“THREE!”

And on each others hand.

“TWO!”

“Ready, human?” growls Undyne. “Or should I say, ‘monster’?”

“ONE!”

“Bring it!” replies Aofil.

“W-wait!”

The simultaneous sigh from Aofil and Undyne echoes through the living room. The air that was about to explode between them now peter away with embarrassment. Like expecting Aaron, but getting Jerry.

“What, Alphys?” they ask together, greatly disappointed that she killed the mood.

“Y-you need to b-bring out your souls,” she reminds the two overly eager Undyne and Undyne derivative. “And also do it outd-doors,” she adds nervously. “J-just in case.”

Aofil and Undyne has to shake the table off their elbows before it pops off with a loud creaking noise. Aofil places it under their arm, and motions for Undyne and Alphys to go ahead. Undyne and Alphys head outside, but Toriel stops Aofil by grabbing their arm before they can follow.

“Aofil, before you go.”

Aofil turns around to face her, startling at her a bit with their uneven teeth and yellow eyes.

“Aofil, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s still you. We can’t go through with this if it’s changing you. It might be dangerous,” she expresses with the deepest concern. “Seeing your form this drastically changed gives me concern about your mind as well, Aofil.”

Aofil looks down on Toriel’s arm. A human arm, holding a scaly arm. Her eyes are still as soft and warm though. Aofil looks at the table under their arm. They’re barely feeling its weight. Their head is swimming with excitement that they’re about to arm wrestle Undyne, arm wrestle a human, to be specific.

But, they’re themselves a human? So why would they be this excited? Is it the shell? Is it Undyne influencing them? The voice hyping the fight up is their own, but they’re not themselves right now.

Toriel notices Aofil’s smile fading. “This is what I’m concerned about, Aofil. If you could hear what you said and see what you just did you’d know that this isn’t you.”

This isn’t like Aofil’s curse though, this is their friend encouraging them, but from inside. It’s Undyne for crying out loud! Of course she would be like this. Aofil trusted her enough to take her inside them. She won’t hurt Aofil, she’ll only make them stronger. If it takes Aofil lowering their guard to feel like they could take on the entire world, and suplex it, then so be it.

A loud guffaw echoes in Aofil’s head. It’s their own voice, but it’s Undyne making it powerful.

Aofil flashes Toriel a confident smile, “Don’t worry, Tori!” and throws up a reassuring thumb towards their blooming grin. “I feel great! I’m a human, remember? Monster magic is weak compared to me! Like Alphys said, it’s just a temporary shell. I’m still me inside underneath it. Whatever Undyne part there is is just temporary, and whatever part of her there is is encouraging me in ways she could never do from outside. The only thing she wants is to make me stronger, I can feel it. My soul is still the same, I feel that too.”

“You sure don’t sound like yourself though, Aofil. So forgive me for hesitating to believe that,” Toriel retorts, still with the same worry. “You’ve never been like this. Don’t you hear yourself?”

Aofil flicks a fin of theirs, the strange warp it makes of their hearing is a bit unsettling, but nothing they can’t handle. Not with Undyne at their side, inside! “I do with these! Sure, it is a bit weird hearing you through these, and myself through these as well, but I’m doing this so that you can return to your normal forms, remember? And if I’m not myself, then I am Undyne, since it’s her magic. So it shouldn’t be a problem, right? Besides, since I am like this now the only thing I can do now is try to turn myself back, and me fighting Undyne now is the best shot we have according to Alphys!”

Toriel looks deep into Aofil’s eyes. Strange as they are, and as not human as they are, it’s still Aofil behind them. Sure, it’s Undyne as well, but she’s not at the helm. Aofil is. “You do have her confidence...” Toriel admits silently.

“It is still me, Toriel. Still Aofil calling all the shots. I’m still in control of my own body, and my own mind. Undyne’s just ready to help me anyway from inside. She would never try and take over! I know that, and you know that too. I appreciate your concern, Toriel. Really, I do, but I’m terrified over how I am right now.”

Aofil puts their hand over their chest, over their soul. “But Undyne is in here, helping me. I’m not afraid because she is giving me strength to fight it! The real Undyne won’t let me come to harm too, or herself either, and you know that too. I’m two of your friends in one!”

Toriel thinks for a short while before giving her approval with a nod. “Just be careful, will you two?”

“I promise, Toriel.” Aofil heads out into the hallway. “But I can’t promise what my Undyne part will do! Ngahahaha!”

An uneasy sigh follows Aofil down the hallway.

“You even laugh like me! It’s like the best sibling I could ever have!” Undyne puts up her hand as Aofil closes the patio door behind them. Aofil clashes it loudly with their own open palm, and Undyne pumps her fist in the air. “Fuck! Yes!”

The table legs sink into the ground as Aofil plants the table as deep as they can to make sure it stays stable through the upcoming battle. They put their hand against their chest and focus on the warm feeling inside. It’s very prominent, barely being contained inside them. With little to no effort Aofil drags it out into the open.

A white and inverted heart hovers gently inside their blue hand. It’s bigger than their own soul. Big enough to cover it. Must be the shell Alphys was talking about.

Alphys and Undyne stare in awe. It takes Aofil clearing their throat loudly for them to regain focus.

“Your shell theory seems to be correct, Alphys!” Aofil informs while squinting against the white light.

She nods, unsure if she should be proud or afraid.

“Where’s yours, Undyne? Having trouble?” Aofil teases. They try to tap their nose, but tap only air. They run their fingers where it’s supposed to be, but there’s only scales. No bump or anything.

“I haven’t started yet!” Undyne snaps back. She places her hand on her chest. After a small and surprised gasp she moves her hand a bit further up. “Wanna guess the color?”

“Red like your embarrassed cheeks?”

Undyne shoots Aofil a stare. “Of course it’s gonna be red, but not because of that!”

But what lights up from her chest isn’t red. Instead, an orange heart hovers gracefully in Undyne’s hand, and she twists her lips.

“It’s kinda red,” Aofil comments in pity.

“Shut up!” Undyne walks over to the table with heavy steps. She slams her elbow down again into the same hole she made before. “Let’s do this!”

Again they wring their hands together, and take strain on the table. The two souls hover in place, ready for battle.

“Int-tent is important,” Alphys reminds. “Y-you have to t-take this seriously!”

“Oh I am,” says Undyne. “Don’t you worry, Alphee!”

“Me too!” replies Aofil.

“I want you to give me your all, Aofil.”

Alphys clears her throat.

“Five!”

Aofil notices that the others have gathered in the kitchen and are watching through the window.

“F-four!”

Undyne makes a final adjustment to her grip. “I want you giving me my all as well! Ngah!”

“T-three!”

Aofil nods to Toriel.

“T-two!”

She nods back.

“O-one!”

The table explodes into a thousand splinter instantly as Aofil and Undyne grip it for support. Before they have time to lose their balance, a cyan cube is formed in between them. It sparks violently from the force pushing it down and from either side, but it stays intact.

“Come on!” shouts Undyne. “Humans can’t be this strong!”

“Feeling sweaty?” Aofil teases.

Undyne shakes her angry head. “No! That’s the problem!”

Aofil’s arm starts to give in. They counter it, but it takes a toll on both their arm and stamina to do so. “What do you mean?”

“Me being a human is stronger than a human being me!” Undyne pushes down on Aofil’s arm again. “That means that a human power up is better than a power up from me! I hate that! I don’t allow it! Give me something to feel sweaty about, Aofil!”

Undyne leans in with her shoulder, putting more of her weight onto Aofil’s arm. They try to defend against it, but it’s not enough. They’re losing ground!

Undyne’s fuming with anger and hatred. “Aofil! Beat me! Show me that I have a chance!” She puts in more weight, and Aofil’s arm is just barely above the now violently shaking cube. “Show me that I can be as strong as a human! Show me that I have a chance! I’ll never forgive you otherwise, punk! I’m inside you! Let me help you!”

A crackling whip of blue lightning shoots off from the cube towards the house. It slams into the wood above the window, causing the wall to shake.

“Aofil!”

No! They can’t. She’s too strong. Too human! Too much for Aofil. They can’t…

Something stirs inside them. Something doesn’t allow for this to happen. Something’s not gonna let Aofil give up!

No! Only a punk gives up!

A flash of energy surges through Aofil.

Only a punk backs down!

It grows from their chest all throughout them.

Only a punk forgets their promise!

Their grip hardens, their strength is flushed anew, richer than before.

Only a punk lets their friend down!

A burning burst rushes through their eyes.

Their soul beats as one!

Aofil eyes shoot wide open, and out of their left eye a beam is shot. A beam determined to never lose! It drags along the grass, leaving a trail of fire behind it.

“Yes!”

Aofil gains ground, inch by inch.

“Keep going, Aofil!”

Undyne again leans in with all her might, but Aofil pushes back against it!

“This!”

Undyne’s arm starts to shake. It waivers!

“Is!”

And is forced to give up ground.

“Awesome!”

Her hand crashes down on the cube, causing the magic fabric to rupture. The wild and turbulent energy collapses in on itself, and with a loud shock wave that shatters the kitchen window, Undyne and Aofil are thrown away like ragdolls in a storm.

Aofil sees the shape of their soul through the sweat and tears clouding their vision. It’s trembling, but only for a moment. It stops, and the white inverted heart explodes, revealing the warm red glow of their own soul. It nestles itself back into Aofil’s chest, and the comforting feeling carries Aofil’s consciousness away.


	108. Between colors

The smell of spaghetti served with apple sauce jolts Aofil awake, almost knocking over the bowl Papyrus is holding under their nose. She falls backwards with a startled “Nyeh!”, but manages to hold onto the bowl.

Aofil throws up their hands in front of them. 

Skin!

“here you go,” offers Sans as she tilts the mirror Aofil’s way.

They’re back to their own form!

“not only you,” Sans nods across the room after seeing Aofil sigh with immense relief. Undyne sits with a similar bowl of similar spaghetti in her lap. She waves to Aofil, and flashes a smile. A smile that despite the varying teeth in it, forms a full one.

Aofil sighs again, with just as much relief for their friend. “Looks like it worked, Alphys.”

“Aofil!” shouts Undyne, excited as always. “Thank you removing that horrible nose that was always in my view!”

Aofil holds up their thumb up to and for her. “No problem.”

She sets the bowl aside and walks over to Aofil. Her eye is watering, and she suppresses a sob.

Is she hurt? “How are you?” Aofil asks with a bit of worry stirring up inside them.

Undyne throws her arms around Aofil. “Thank you for showing me that I can be stronger!” She squeezes Aofil tighter. “You looked so awesome being me!”

“Imagine what you can do being you then.” Aofil manages to say despite their air being squeezed out of their lungs.

Undyne’s smile is covered with two thick trails of tears. “I know! It’s gonna be great!” She let’s a sob escape her. “Ngah,” she whispers.

“No problem,” Aofil repeats. “I had fun.”

“Y-you sure look like you had,” Alphys agrees from beside them. She makes no effort in trying to wring Undyne off Aofil though.

A large hawk from Toriel has her cowering, realizing the mistake she made. Toriel inhales a deep sigh, “Forgive me,” and heaves it tiredly, “but if this is what’s needed for us to return, then I am afraid that I have to insist on us finding another way.”

The room goes quiet, but Toriel weathers the looks from the others on her. She collects her words, and stands firmly still. “What happened between you two, Aofil and Undyne, was dangerous. Because of our current state it took some great effort to heal you both. I feel exhausted, and I wasn’t the one in battle. Saying that out loud, ‘battle’, and knowing that Aofil has to do one for each of the rest of us...” Toriel lowers her head. “We shouldn’t be asking this of them.”

“Toriel.” Aofil starts carefully.

She puts up a hand to stop them. “I know that you’re about to say that it is fine, and that you can handle this, Aofil. As much as I want to believe it, and as much as I do believe it, I can’t in good conscience allow you to repeat this so many times. One time is already too much. You weren’t yourself, however you might’ve thought, my dear. The very nature of this must be taking a toll on your body, and more importantly, your mind. I let you fight with Undyne because you were already transformed, but now that you’re you again, I don’t want you to risk more. You’ve already done enough, let us figure out something else.”

Her words hang heavy over the group. Eyes move around to the different humans, and the one monster standing. Wondering, thinking. Aofil again opens their mouth to speak, but Toriel pleads with her eyes for them to not push themselves even further than they’ve already done.

“shame,” shrugs Sans. “i wanted to see aofil react to me grabbing their spine.”

“SANS! THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE SKELETON BEHAVIOR!” Papyrus condemns loudly and with immense disgust. “AND YOU KNOW THAT!”

“of course i do, and that’s why i want to do it.”

“For as much as I want to slap you for that, Sans.” Aofil breathes in through their nose. It wasn’t a long time without it, but it seems that they have to get used to it again. “Keep that thought going.”

Sans snaps her fingers to Aofil, “sure will, bud.”

“Toriel,” Aofil addresses, calmly, but firm as a rock, “I want to help. You can’t live like this. I don’t know exactly how this will go, but none of you will try and hurt me. This is the only way.”

“This can fade away on its own,” Toriel replies. “We just have to be patient.”

Aofil moves their eyes to Alphys with an eyebrow raised in question. “It d-doesn’t l-look like it, T-Toriel,” she answers while avoiding looking at Toriel. “We s-should’ve s-seen something by now. C-could be that it w-will fade ov-ver a longer period of t-time, but then...”

Aofil turns back to Toriel. “I’m the only one here that can help, Toriel. Let me. I agree that I might’ve gone a bit overboard while being Undyne.”

“Not enough if you ask me!” laughs Undyne before being silenced by a seething glare from Toriel.

“We’ll take it slower with the next,” Aofil continues. “I promise. If anything then to figure out a way other than fighting to break the shells. Sounds good? Do you want to be next? Perhaps then we can figure something out?”

Both Asriel and Asgore are forced to quell their laughter. To Aofil’s surprise Toriel doesn’t notice the women behind her shaking like earthquakes. She’s deep in thought.

Is she actually considering it?

“A-actually,” interrupts Alphys with a careful cough. “I s-should be next. Just to be s-sure that I c-can produce the t-transformation for the r-rest of you.”

“You’re not lying now, Alphys?” Toriel asks with her hand balled underneath her chin. She missed it the first time around, and almost punched herself square on her nose. The second try she managed to tuck her hand underneath her less than she’s used to chin. “Do you feel like you need to be yourself for you to continue with your magic?”

Alphys nods. “Y-yes, it is what I believe.”

“And are you certain of this, Aofil?”

They nod as well. “Yes, I am.”

Toriel thinks for a sigh or two, and then gives her blessing. Reluctantly. “Then please continue, Alphys.”

Alphys disappears down the basement again. Aofil takes the opportunity to ask Undyne to release them from her grasp. She apologizes for being enthralled, and brushes herself off before excusing herself with a not too subtle cough. Aofil asks for the bowl of spaghetti from Papyrus, realizing that they’re suddenly hungry. They should eat before Alphys gets back.

The liquid Alphys brings back up is yellow this time, yet still producing the same glow as Undyne’s. Aofil swirls it around. “Did you clean Undyne out before putting yourself inside?”

“It’s another flask.”

“Good thinking.”

She would be the one knowing not to mix souls together.

Enough stalling! Aofil steadies themselves. “See you in a bit then!” and downs the liquid. Their lips curl something fierce and their cheeks feels numb. “Wow! That’s really freaking sour.”

Alphys taps her fingers together. “S-sorry.”

“No, it’s,” the dizziness returns to Aofil, “It’s…not...”

They fall back down onto the sofa.


	109. Purple

“I k-know, b-but it doesn’t h-help seeing them like this.”

“like you?”

“Y-yes.”

Aofil clutches their head, accidentally burrowing some claws into their skull. They grunt in pain, a very strange and ungracious grunt. Their vision is a blur, and almost completely covered by a yellow blob. They try and focus their sight, but nothing helps. “Hello?” Their voice is very nasal.

“You’re awake, Aofil,” Toriel smiles. Or does she? Aofil can’t really tell. “Still feeling alright?”

“I, I guess? C-can’t really see.” Aofil tries to fight the stammer, but one slips through despite their efforts.

A blue hand hands Aofil something. “Here!”

Aofil can’t really make the shape out in Undyne’s hand. “What is it?”

“G-glasses,” Alphys says from across the room.

“Oh,” Aofil fumbles a bit before grabbing the pair handed to them. “I see.”

“no, you don’t,” Sans comments. ”that’s why you need the glasses.”

Aofil wants to quip something back, but after how much they try, they can’t form one in their head. They didn’t really want to make one anyway, and if they did Sans would probably be mad at Aofil for making one. Better not to, better that way.

A careful pat on their shoulder from Undyne has Aofil almost jumping out of their skin. “Aofil?” Undyne asks after a second to comprehend what just happened. “You’re crushing your glasses.”

Aofil realizes that they’ve been wringing their hands, with the glasses in them. They seem to have retained their shape though, and Aofil places them on their nose.

Oh, that yellow thing was their nose. It’s quite…very huge. In stark difference to how Undyne’s was. That is to say, nonexisting. Compared to their now very much existing nose.

“here you go,” informs Sans while bringing the mirror back to Aofil.

Seeing how they look now. The yellow scales, the big nose, the large spikes on their head and neck. It’s not a pretty sight. Aofil feels their upper back slowly hunch over. Inching closer and closer to their hand. They don’t want to see themselves.

They wring their tail to comfort themselves.

Wait a second!

In a rush of sudden panic, Aofil throws away their tail. It whips around, knocking Undyne off the sofa and down on the floor. Stunned, she tilts up a perplexed head with a confused expression. “What just happened?” Her baffled face turns around to meet Aofil crawling away from the thick and slithering appendage behind them, but it still following them despite their distressed effort. “Huh,” Undyne looks to Alphys, “maybe we should’ve prepared for this?”

Alphys shrugs.

“Aofil!” Undyne shouts to snap them out of it. “It’s your tail.”

“M-my tail?” Aofil stutters while wide eyeing the lump of mass hanging from their behind, narrowing in thickness the further away from them it goes. “I-It’s j-just my tail-l,” they try to calm. As they do their tail twitches ever so slightly, and they let out a nasal squeak.

“Hey!” Undyne snaps her finger in front of Aofil’s face. “Aofil! Relax! It’s fine. Right, Alphys? It’s just a tail.”

Aofil looks over to Alphys nodding reservedly. “It-t’s fine, Aofil,” they repeat.

“J-just a t-tail,” Aofil repeats to themselves with a nod. “J-just a tail.”

Aofil’s buck teeth from their overbite chaffs against the now scaly underlip. Very strange, and very uncomfortable. Only now does Aofil also notice their hands as they try and hide their face in them. Their hands are itching, eager to make something, but whatever they’d do will probably be something worthless. Best to ignore it.

“Now,” Undyne extends her back and puts her fists against her hips, “time to have an Alphys fight!”

Toriel clears her throat in loud protest, “No!” before regaining her composure. “No, we shall not. No more fighting, that was the rule.”

“No physical fighting,” Undyne corrects, “but I was thinking that they should have a nerd off! Make the best nerd gizmo to fight for them both! We have plenty of junk in the shed for them to build something. Aofil has Alphys in them now, so they should be able to figure something out!”

Aofil looks back at their hands. Their head is screaming for them to ignore the itching to build, the itching to experiment. It must be Alphys doing both. Wanting to create, but also not wanting to. They relied on Undyne before, but now it seems that they have to suppress Alphys. At least her low confidence. She can help them build, but not talk. Gotta keep that in mind.

“B-but,” Aofil collects their words, forcing themselves to focus on talking, “how will our souls come into battle?”

Undyne taps her head with a finger. “Battle of the mind! If you pour your soul into your creation it should give them enough of a bond to you so that it counts as a battle!”

“That’s a good point,” Aofil agrees. They instantly know why as well. “Since it’s not our real souls that do battle, but the shells around them. If we think of the shel-lls as our actual magic we can inf-ffuse our creations with it, circumventing the need for intent on our part. If our creations want to destroy each other, but not us, then we should be in the clear!” Aofil puts a hand up to their mouth. They tap their lower lip with one of their claw while they think. “We have to consider the bond between our souls and our creation though, since technically we’ll still be tethered to them, albeit not directly, technically. There should still be healing magic prepared just in case.”

Aofil lifts their head to see everyone staring at them. They hunch over, and their tail seeks comfort in their hands. They wring it closer to them, “O-or s-somet-t-hing.”

“I...” Undyne scratches her lobe. “I took the idea from an anime Alphys and I watched before...but it’s good that you think it’ll work…I guess.”

Is this how Alphys feels all the time?

Alphys motions for the backyard. “S-shall we go? G-get this over with?”

Aofil nods, the less they have to be reminded doing something this embarrassing, the better.

Back outside Undyne leads the two hunched over, shuffling creatures to the shed. She opens it and flicks on a light switch. The shed is much larger on the inside than on the outside. Aofil wonders why.

Probably some form of dimensional storage. Better not ask though, might interrupt.

“Junk a plenty!” Undyne smiles as she sweeps her hand across the room. “Don’t touch my junk though.”

Both Alphys and Aofil shove their blushing faces into their hands to quell their squeals.

Undyne rolls her eye, “The junk I lift! Use Alphys’ metallic junk however you like though. I’ll see if I can’t find a large tarp or something to cover the grass. Your eye made a bit of a fire last time, Aofil. Don’t you dare go blaming it on me. Brag that it was me instead! Ngahaha!”

She leaves Alphys and Aofil alone staring down the seemingly mile long room of metallic parts and tires.

“W-where d-did you get all of t-these p-piles?” Aofil asks after an uncomfortable minute of awkward silence.

“G-Garbage D-Dump b-back in the Underground. H-had to c-clean it out for the h-human tour-r,” Alphys answers before heading down to a pile she finds interesting. “D-do y-you have a-any idea w-what to m-make? Or do y-you need my help?”

“It’s fine, Alp-phys,” Aofil spots a very peculiar pile filled with bicycle parts and heads over to start digging.

“Oh,” Alphys remembers. “I g-guess I’m already h-helping you, right?”

Aofil finds a lot of parts they can use, but they don’t have any tools available. In a nearby pile they spot a gadget that can be helpful. They clumsily reach over it, using their tail to counter the weight of them almost lying sideways to reach the gadget.

They retrieve it and spin it around in their hand. Servos look clear, camera looks intact, and the connections seem to be in their right place. Just need a bit of magic to start it up. Aofil caresses the gadget, looking for the flap to reach the magic compartment. Their claw fits underneath the socket perfectly, and they flip it open. They form a small battery in their hand, and insert it into the gadget.

It sprouts a pair of pink legs and bounces on its knees waiting for instructions.

“T-tools, and s-some electronics,” they order it to find. It jumps out of their hand and takes off down the room, sniffing every pile and occasionally diving into one.

Aofil notices Alphys staring at them. They cower from it.“S-sorry, I should’ve ask-ked to b-borrow it.”

Alphys tries to smile warmly to calm them down, but it just comes out as forced. “It’s f-fine. C-can I use it after y-you?”

“S-sure…” Aofil returns to their tinkering with sweat pouring out of their hands. They have to dry them off on their shirt, otherwise they can’t get a grip on anything.

The gadget returns to Aofil and pours out an equally large pile with electronics and tools next to the one Aofil is using. Aofil tells it to head over to Alphys, and it happily does so. The dangers of using a dimensional box inside another floods through Aofil’s mind, but that one they manage to suppress.

They have another thought occupying their mind, and that’s how close the robot they’re building is gonna be to the one Mew Mew used in the second season when she visited her scientist friend. The ensuing arc really brought it to a new height in terms of narrative structure and overall writing quality. It was a much better one than in the first season, that’s for sure.

Anyone thinking that season one is better must be absolute trash, just like season one is compared to season two.

Aofil makes a pair of noise canceling earmuffs and some modifications to their glasses so that they can work more efficiently before starting their project. They summon a diagram of Mew Mew’s robot on their glasses’ lenses and studies it thoroughly. Should be enough parts in their pile to make a replica that’s almost their size. Their human size that is… Aofil looks down at their hands, their yellow arms, but their large muzzle is covering everything that’s below them. They sigh, and remind themselves that they’re doing this for their friends.

Using a mix of gas and magic they weld the pieces they’ve found into the desired shape. They fit and magically program the electronics inside the robot. Connecting it to the shell is easy, they just need to sync their own aura to the receptors present on the personality matrix chip. Just needs a small wireless receptor, that’s all. With that in place, the robot should now draw power from the shell around Aofil’s soul instead of an inserted battery.

Aofil waves their hand, and the robot does so as well.

Perfect.

Some quick splashes of color from another gizmo that Aofil finds gives their robot the same color scheme from Mew Mew season two. Pink and yellow. They add some more bells and whistles to their robot, because why not?

Now all that is left to do is to add the flux capacitor. It doesn’t do anything, because as the name suggests, it just stores light, but it looks cool. Aofil places it on the chest of their robot. Their robot looks down and gives Aofil an approving thumb. They return it.

Satisfied with their creation, Aofil orders, through the shell around their soul, for the robot to fold itself inside a nearby dimensional box. It does so with ease. Aofil picks the box up, and turns around to say to Alphys that they’re done.

“I’m done.”  
“I’m done.”

They both notice that the other one is done, and at the exact same time.

“Um...good.”  
“Um...good.”

There’s a brief pause while they both clutch the boxes they’re carrying.

“Sh-hall we?”  
“Sh-hall we?”

They both offer the others to go first.

“Af-fter you.”  
“Af-fter you.”

And both freeze in place while staring at each other. Why isn’t the other one walking? They can’t go first! That would be too embarrassing!

“Undyne!”  
“Undyne!”

“Help!”  
“Help!”

She kicks in the door with a spear in hand, “What?” and scans around for any danger, but finds only Alphys and Aofil hunched over with their red faces hidden behind their shaking boxes. Undyne can’t help but chuckle. “This is freaking amazing,” and she drags both of them outside by their collars. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

She’s so cool…  
She’s so cool…

A large tarp covers half of the backyard. Undyne places Aofil on one end, and Alphys at the other. She takes position behind a table flipped on its side and ducks beneath it. Only her eye is sticking up from behind it. “Let’s go nerds! Don’t keep us waiting!”

The audience of Undyne behind the table, and the rest behind the kitchen window, is a bit more than Aofil would’ve wanted, but it’s too l-late for th-hat now, isn’t it-t?

They swallow hard and place down their box. It opens with a loud creak, and Aofil winces hard. They take out their creation and puts in on the tarp. Alphys does the same with hers.

“Alright nerds!” Undyne yells with her hand stretched high in the air. “I’m counting down, and then I want to see the nerdiest battle ever! Ready!”

Aofil wishes it was a question.

“One!”

What?

“Go!”

Aofil’s robot reacts to them jerking back in confusion, and begins to unfold itself. It straightens its back as the theme song for Mew Mew season two blares from its speakers.

Oh no! Aofil forgot that they put it there!

The intro from Mew Mew season one catches their ears, and they look up from the palms of their hands to see Alphys doing the same.

Hers is the robot from season one!

“Alphys? A-are you serious?” Aofil’s nasal laugh echoes as the theme songs finish playing. They cover up their mouth quickly to stop themselves from poisoning their own ears further.

Their robot starts to roll its shoulder.

“W-why does your look like it’s from season trash?” Alphys asks with her hand outstretched in utter disgust! “You literally made the reason the quality plummeted!”

Alphys’ robot cracks its pink knuckles while stretching its neck menacingly.

Oh, she’s so wrong she doesn’t even know! “I don’t think I can take any critique serious from someone that thinks that season one is in anyway better than two,” Aofil harks back with their voice cracking.

Aofil’s robot crosses its also pink arms together. Its pose stands intimidating.

A silent and excited squeal emanates from Undyne, but the two debaters are too heated in their argument to notice.

“Ha!” Alphys scoffs with an ungraceful snort. “It took a series about friendship and turned it into a series about stupid people doing stupid decisions. The stupidest was the decision to make a second season.”

The season one design shifts its weight into a combat ready position. One arm forward, and one covering its chin. It’s ready for battle!

“The second season showed a more complex and tragic Mew Mew!” Aofil needs to catch their breath. “Where she has to learn more about her powers and how it impacts the people around her!”

The season two design collects its center. Slowly it focuses its arms into position, ready to take on whatever foe that might oppose it.

“It introduced an unnecessary plot and turned the joy of the first season into a mess of faux drama.”

What came before beckons for what came after to attack.

“It introduced actual character development! Actual arcs for Mew Mew!”

Aofil’s robot gladly accepts the invite, and sprints towards Alphys’ robot.

“Here we go!” cheers Undyne! “Robot violence! Ngah!”

Alphys and Aofil stare at each other, mortified over what’s about to happen. This wasn’t the plan! They both scramble for their souls to try and stop what’s about to happen. The metallic clanking of Aofil’s robot running, and the metallic creaking of Alphys’ robot preparing for the impact rings loud and distracting, making Alphys and Aofil lose focus. It’s only when Aofil’s robot is within arm’s reach that they finally manage to bring out their souls.

Aofil finally gets a grip on their white and inverted heart. “S-stop!” they command.

Alphys finally gets a grip on their purple heart. “St-top!” she commands.

But they’re both too late. Aofil’s robot leans back with their arm, and throws it against Alphys’ robot. It does the same, and the two metallic and grossly pink hands smash into each other with incredible force.

The impact pushes Aofil and Alphys back. In their hands their souls start to violently tremble, as well as their creations. Their souls snap, and their robot fall down limp into a thousand pieces raining down on the tarp, just before their shells explode in their hands.

Aofil again finds themselves lying on the moist grass staring at the night sky with fading vision. Their red soul again settles inside them once again.

“That was awesome!” Aofil hears Undyne cheer with glee before their vision fades completely.


	110. Up and at it instantly

A warm hand caressing Aofil’s hair greets them when they regain consciousness. They open their tired eyes to...Toriel? Yes, Toriel, sitting next to them. She helps them sit up straight, and hands Aofil a cup of steaming tea. The Golden Flower taste warms and chases away the tired feeling. Aofil spends a minute or so just enjoying the taste. They don’t feel that exhausted from their excursion with Alphys, so might as well ask who’s next.

“So,” Aofil lifts the cup up for another sip, “who’s next?”

“You don’t want to rest up a bit more?” Toriel asks softly.

“Alphys has to make the potion, right? I’ll be done with the tea when she returns with it.”

“A-actually,” interrupts Alphys. Aofil smiles when they see her yellow muzzle just next to them, “I’ve al-lready prepared the next.”

“It’s me,” Toriel spoils. Aofil had a small hope that it would be a surprise, but thinking about it now, it would probably be a terrible idea. “So that we can figure out a better way to solve this situation rather than resorting to such unnecessary violence.”

Undyne leans in as subtly as she can, that is to say very little. “If even two Alphys couldn’t figure something out...”

Toriel shoots her a look, and Undyne’s forced to duck and cover not to die from it.

“You think I can mix the tea with the potion, Alphys?” Aofil asks to lighten the mood.

The sudden realization that it might create something akin to Flowey has them backpedaling that statement immediately.

“I’m just kidding!” they shout before Alphys, or anyone else for that matter, can themselves realize what Aofil asked. “Just let me finish this and then I can do Toriel!”

The loud slurp Aofil accidentally produces in their haste is even louder through the awkward silence present. Aofil’s gonna be out of it in a while though, so it’s just something they have to weather for a short while.

While breathing out the last fumes of the Golden Flower tea Aofil motions for Alphys and the flask. It clashes horribly with the sweet and sour taste lingering behind from the Golden Flower, but dizziness quickly overtakes Aofil again, and shortly after Toriel eases their body down on the sofa. 

“See me soon,” she chuckles.

Aofil smiles just before falling asleep.


	111. Teal

“You think Aofil’s gonna get used to this?”

Something heavy hangs from Aofil’s head. Two heavy things even. They run their hand up their cheek. Fur, definitely fur. Claws too. Their hand reaches the heavy and warm weight on the side of their head, and runs underneath it until it stops. They lift up their hand, and the weight smacks against their cheek with an audible clash.

“your ear, if you were wondering.”

Aofil opens their eyes slowly. “Yeah, I figured as much,” they say with a slightly deeper voice. “Thanks for stating the obvious though, Sans. Really helpful.”

And yes, they’re definitely a goat now. Or a Boss Monster, to be technical, but the face staring back at them in the mirror Sans brought back to them is ringing the word ‘goat’ in their head. Two small horns on top of their skull through their hair, two floppy ears on either side, a single long muzzle that’s not covering as much as Alphys’ did, but still a fair amount. All clad in bright white fur.

“so does this make aofil your aunt, asriel?” Sans wonders with just the slightest hint of genuine curiosity.

Asriel sends a stare that’s more determined than the beam Aofil shot out of their eye two transformations ago. The notion doesn’t sound weird in Aofil’s head, so maybe Toriel was right about this taking a toll on them.

Wait a minute… Aofil looks back at the mirror. They look down as they don’t believe what the mirror is showing, “What happened to my clothes? They feel different.”

“During your transformation your clothes did kinda,” Toriel nods shortly to a pile of torn fabric on the table next to Aofil.

“Explode!” Undyne finishes right in Aofil’s ear. Well, not technically in their ear since they now have it covered by a large and swaying weight of fur and flesh. Or is it magic? Either way, Undyne yelled close enough that it hurt. Aofil waves her away with their hand while pressing against their ear with their other.

“So where did you get these?” Aofil asks wide eyed. “Did you go to my house?” Why would they risk it?

“No, actually,” Toriel corrects. “Asriel had some of his own clothes here that look similar. We thought it might be better if you woke up in something. Something familiar, too.”

“she,” Sans is quick to correct.

“Was a guy when he forgot it,” Undyne corrects back.

Sans lets her have that one. “fair enough.”

Toriel meditates away the frustration of Sans interrupting her for a second or so before continuing, “As I was saying, Asriel had some of his clothes here that he left behind during a training session with Undyne. Why it never crossed Undyne’s mind to actually bring back them to Asriel is something we’ll worry about another time.”

Undyne is suddenly looking very stiff in fear.

The clothes don’t fit Aofil exactly, but it’s a good enough of a fit. The fabric is soft and light like silk, but it doesn’t feel like it. Must be magical fabric.

“Can you please stop that?” Asriel mumbles loudly. “It’s bad enough seeing you wear it like you are now, could you at least stop touching it?”

Aofil returns his request with a scoff and a roll of their eyes. “Is it because I look better in them than you do?”

The sound of multiple jaws hitting the floor doesn’t concern Aofil. They’re doing this as a favor for them, the least Asriel could do is stop being such a crybaby.

Asriel doesn’t know what to do, or how to answer, or how to react at all. He looks to Toriel for help, and she clears her throat. “Aofil?”

They don’t look at her while answering. “Hm?” is the only thing they give her.

“How are you?”

“What?” Aofil just briefly meets Toriel’s eyes before returning to their clothes. “What is it?”

“Asriel asked you to stop.”

And? You can’t get everything in the world. Aofil shrugs their shoulders. “I heard him. Sorry, her. I heard her loud and clear.”

A chortle desperately suppressed catches everyone’s attention, even Aofil. Asgore presses her hand against her mouth. “Sorry!” She quells another chortle clumsily. “Sorry,” she follows up with again.

Toriel crosses her arms together so fast her arms risks catching fire from the friction, even without the kindle that would be her fur. She stares at Asgore with a disapproving look. “Is anything funny, Asgore?” she mutters angrily.

“Apparently,” Aofil adds with a snarky tilt of their head.

“Don’t you recognize yourself, Toriel?” Asgore asks through her knuckles.

“What do you mean by that? Recognize myself? That’s not me. I’ve never...” Toriel’s arms fall down at her sides and she turns mortified to Aofil leaning back in the sofa with one leg crossed perpendicular over the other, and one arm outstretched over the backrest of the sofa.

They raise a perplexed and annoyed hand at Toriel’s baffled look. “What? You jealous too?”

Toriel’s face sinks, in stark contrast to Asgore’s increasingly difficult to hide giggle that’s slowly having her heave up and down while still keeping her hand pushed desperately against her mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Aofil’s getting a bit impatient with Asgore’s laughing. “You think I’m a joke or something? I’m your wife now, need I remind? Are you laughing at your own wife? Or am I not good enough?”

“No, it’s not you,” Toriel sighs deeply.

Aofil turns to her with a conflicted and questioning expression. “What do you mean? Not me?” It soon becomes clear to them. Very clear. They chuckle, which turns into a laugh, which turns into an all out guffaw,.“Oh...my god!” Aofil pats their chest excitingly while gasping for air. “This is you!”

Toriel pinches the bridge of her nose tiredly. “Aofil, please. Try and fight it. It’s already enough having been reminded.”

“Try and fight you? When you’re acting like this?” The sofa complains silently as Aofil leans forward on their knuckles. They chuckle again. “Wow, I never knew, Toriel. Why didn’t you tell me? Under all that queen is an actual personality.”

She doesn’t take kindly to that, not at all. She’s determined to keep her composure though, and fights to ignore Aofil’s words. She’s definitely shaken by the words though, Aofil can very clearly see that. “I’m afraid I have to insist on you fighting it, Aofil. Please, I beg you. You promised me we’d talk about finding another way for this.”

“Let’s see what more I have to say. Something’s bound to pop up with this present company of ours.” Aofil looks around the room to try and trigger themselves to say something. They lock eye with the largest creature in the room. “Asgore!” Aofil feels a cocky smirk form. “Is this how Toriel was when you met her?” Aofil hears their own words, and their smirk grows bigger. “Is it really?”

Toriel looks pleadingly at Asgore, but it’s too late. Aofil bends over in a fit of laughter. It takes a while for them to run out of steam, and when they eventually do Aofil wipes away tears from their eyes. “Wow, why am I laughing this much? Why is this so damn hilarious?”

“It isn’t,” Toriel growls.

“Yes, it is,” Aofil stifles another wave of giggling, ”and the best part is, it’s you that finds it funny! Toriel, why do you find yourself funny? Is this the monster behind the queen? The Toriel that I’ve seen peeks of after three glasses of wine? You got some around, Undyne? Alphys? If I’m like this when I’m sober I can’t wait to get tipsy!”

Toriel bites her lips closed, while stopping Undyne in her step with a quick leer. Undyne’s gonna regret taking that one step towards the kitchen.

“Is that so, Toriel?” Aofil nods to themselves, and throws up a finger. “How about this? I’m gonna be nice and give you the chance to explain from your mouth instead of mine, Toriel.” Aofil settles back into leaning back on the sofa with one leg perpendicular over the other. Their foot bounces impatiently as Aofil waits just as impatiently for Toriel to make her decision.

She meets Aofil’s raised eyebrow and cocked head with a deadly glare.

“You’re trying to stare yourself down, Toriel,” Aofil reminds with a flick of their index finger. “Ain’t gonna work. If you want I can bring the mirror in between us while I deduce your story myself. How about the first time you wore the crown? Must’ve ruined your image, right? The rebel turned domesticated aristocrat? See! I’m just letting my mouth run and all sorts of deliciousness flow like the Waterfall. Last chance, Toriel, because I can feel my tongue itching.”

“Aofil, you’re strong enough to break free from me. You managed with Undyne, I know that you can. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps I am?” Aofil shrugs. “Fact still remains that I’m a mix between me and you, so it’s at least half of you is enjoying this. Besides, if we want to find a way for our shells to come to blows without physically coming to blow then I need to know all about you so that we together can find a way.”

Toriel grumbles under her breath.

“As you can clearly hear I got your wit as well, Toriel. What a bargain, right? The quick wit, the unshackled confidence. I feel like I’ve missed this. That must mean that you have been missing this, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t feel nostalgic over this as I am right now. Is there a part of you still wanting to not be a queen? Man, just hear me ramble!” Aofil scratches the side of their muzzle with a claw. “You’re the only one that can stop yourself, Toriel. So, pray tell about when you acted like this.”

”Come now, dear,” says Asgore gently, “you shouldn’t be ashamed of your past. It was why I fell in love with you to begin with.”

Aofil lets out a long whistle. “Good stuff. You’re lucky you ain’t your useful self right now, Asgore. Even with your voice only being tangentially close to your normal one it made my heart skip a beat. I’m guessing that if you still had that gorgeous golden, and flowing beard, I would be all over you.”

Toriel ignores Aofil to the best of her abilities. “Hearing you say that with that voice and in that form isn’t doing any favors, Asgore.”

Asgore shrugs, nothing she can do about it, really.

“But your words are true.” Toriel admits as she walks over to the nearest empty chair where she sits down with her hands on her knees. She steadies her breath, and faces Aofil, who bounce their eyebrows in excitement. After taking in and processing the sight she begins.

“I wasn’t always the queen, so I didn’t always act like one.”

Toriel exhales and stands up again.

Aofil’s arms fly out on either side as Toriel stands silent with her arm gently crossed over her legs. “And?” they ask, perplexed.

“No ‘and’, Aofil. I am finished.”

This is a joke! “This is a joke?” It has to be! “It has to be!” Is she serious? “Are you serious?”

Toriel nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because,” Aofil stands up too, “I can feel that you’re not done. I feel that you’re lying, Toriel. Please sit down and finish your story.”

“Like I said, I’m finished. Now it’s your time to uphold your side of the bargain.”

Aofil looks to the others for any sort of help. “Am I the only one that wants to hear the rest of it?” but they all stay silent, probably from the sweeping glare Toriel shoots them all. “I am? Come on, you gotta be kidding me.”

Toriel suppresses a snicker and crosses her arms over her chest. “Things not going according to your plan? If there’s anything more I’m willing to give away is that I know that this is gonna press your buttons. I’m standing up to you, Aofil. How does it feel?”

Now she’s just rubbing salt into it. Pompous Boss Monster! Thinks she’s so great just because she’s the Queen. Aofil scoffs to the side and shakes their head. “Apparently not since I have the Queen vetoing me against my plans. Pulling the rug out from underneath me, and then telling me to do it her way. Wow!” Aofil takes a step closer with their hands upraised, waving back and forth just like Toriel waved away them. “How about I give you a taste of that yourself, huh? How about I just don’t help you?”

Toriel furrows and simultaneously raises her brow. “And stay like you are now? You don’t want to go back to being human, Aofil?”

Aofil steps closer, almost putting their muzzle up to Toriel’s face. “What if I do? What if I stay like the Toriel you don’t want to remember? Maybe I’ll enjoy being a constant splinter under your nail. You’ll know what that means now that you have nails of your own!” Aofil wiggles their fingers. “Because normally you have these.”

Toriel nods warmly, “That is all well and good, Aofil,” and puts her hand on their shoulder. “I have to admit that you’ve brought up some things that I’d rather be buried, but I won’t hold it against you when you wake up. This will all be water under the bridge once you open your humans eyes again, you have my word.”

“What are you-” Aofil looks down. The white glow from their inverted heart forces them to squint. Their soul is exposed! Toriel lifts away the arm still crossed over her chest, exposing the teal color of her own shell.

Toriel gives Aofil a gentle smile, “See you in a bit, Aofil,” before flicking her finger on Aofil’s shell. It cracks, and shatters. The force of it flings pieces that pierce Toriel’s light blue heart.

They both stumble down on the ground. Asgore and Asriel rushing to catch Toriel, while Undyne and Alphys rushes to catch Aofil.

“Phew!” Undyne wipes her forehead. “She really got you there, Aofil.”

Her flashy smiles fades away as the darkness consumes Aofil’s vision.


	112. Bonefied

A warm and fuzzy hand on Aofil’s forehand wakes them up. They open their eyes and meet Toriel’s white muzzle smiling back at them. The sofa complains loudly when she stands up. Aofil accepts her outstretched hand and she helps them to sit up. Aofil’s clothing is now way too big for them. Like a small tent, almost.

“You feeling well, Aofil?”

Aofil feels that their mouth is a bit dry. “I’m somewhat thirsty, but yes, I’m fine.”

“I’ll get you some water, Aofil,” Alphys offers, which Aofil gladly accepts. She waddles away to the kitchen.

“Aofil,” Toriel addresses with a bit of lingering concern, “about what was said before.”

“Yeah?” Aofil hopes that what they tried to push didn’t harbor a grudge for Toriel.

“Forgive me.”

What?

Toriel puts a warming and forgiving hand on Aofil’s shoulder. “I should’ve warned you before that such feelings could’ve spawned once you were under the influence of me. It is true that I once had those feelings and thoughts myself. I took a chance on the transformation bringing more what I am now than what I was before. Thankfully, you managed to hold back the worst of me, and for that I am grateful. We all have parts of our lives that we wish not to be brought into light, and I don’t know if I could’ve faced myself at my fullest back before. Thank you for being strong, Aofil.”

Did they really hold back though? Aofil certainly didn’t feel like they were holding back. If anything they were letting off the floodgates. Maybe she’s downplaying it for her own sake, and if so, it might be best just to play along.

“You certainly were imposing, Toriel. Both you Toriel, and me Toriel.”

“I’m not thrilled about what happened, but it wasn’t you fault, Aofil.” Toriel takes a small and respectful bow. “Thank you for your help.”

Alphys returns from the kitchen and hands Aofil a glass of water. “No problem, Toriel. It was worth it to return you to your ever so beautiful self,” Aofil answers before taking a refreshing mouthful of cold liquid. It really hit the spot.

“Oh you,” Toriel giggles behind her hand.

An impressed and eager whistle flows from Sans. “just as flirty as frisk, and that’s not even with asgore’s soul. maybe aofil and asgore should fight to win toriel’s heart? heh. then we’ll see who’s the most deserving to be monster king now that we only have a monster queen available at the moment.”

“A MONSTER KING NEEDS A MONSTER GUARD THOUGH,” Papyrus reminds to the room with a finger raised high and mighty. “AND SINCE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM NOT A MONSTER AT THIS PARTICULAR POINT IN TIME, I SHOULD BE AVAILABLE TO OFFER MY SERVICE TO THE NEXT MONSTER KING! THEREFORE, I SHOULD BE NEXT!”

Undyne raises a slightly perplexed hand over her incredibly perplexed head.

“YES, UNDYNE, LEADER OF THE ROYAL GUARD!”

“Exactly, Papyrus,” Undyne nods. “I’m the fricking leader, and I’m a monster now.”

“EXACTLY, UNDYNE! YOU’RE NOT A GUARD, YOU’RE THE LEADER OF THE GUARD”

Undyne’s too stunned by confusion, and can’t provide an answer. Before she has time to blink away her dazed and furrowed brow Papyrus snatches Alphys up and heads with the longest stride she can muster down into the basement.

Undyne unfreezes from her thinking only when she catches whiff of the flask of Papyrus that Alphys hands across her field of vision. “What’s that?” she points.

“It’s Papyrus.”

Aofil takes the flask out of Alphys’ hand. 

“It smells like his cooking,” Undyne is quick to comment.

Aofil finishes the flask with three deep gulps. “Oh yeah,” they cough, “it really does.”

“ONLY THE TASTIEST FOR MY FRIEND,” Papyrus poses heroineically. “WHO WILL SOON BECOME ME!”

“you’re about to be boned, aofil.”

Sans’ joke is the last Aofil fully comprehends before the familiar dizziness takes them over.

Off to a horrible start.


	113. Green

Oh! God! This headache!

“Um.”

And again Aofil’s hearing is distorted. Alphys sounds really strange.

“M-maybe we should move t-the mirror?”

And Aofil’s view is again really distorted. Just need a second or so to let it focus.

“B-because you know, it’s a b-bit d-different for us than it m-might be them.”

Aofil’s head feels really cold. Their entire body feels cold. It’s not unpleasant though, just uncomfortable Hopefully it’ll go away as well.

“THAT MAY BE SO, MY YELLOW AND SMART MONSTER FRIEND!”

“Really don’t have to emphasize the monster part, Papyrus,” huffs Undyne.

And Aofil’s joints feel really, really stiff.

“THAT MAY BE SO, MY BLUE AND STRONG MONSTER FRIEND, BUT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM NOT A MONSTER RIGHT NOW! I AM HUMAN!”

“Not for long though, hopefully.”

“I’m s-serious,” Alphys steps in between Undyne and Papyrus, “skel-letons aren’t the same t-to humans as they are t-to monsters.”

Skeletons? Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open. They don’t feel anything happening on their face though. No muscles moving, no skin stretching, no nothing!

“Fuck! Shit!” Aofil flies up the wall behind them as they catch their own reflection. “What the hell!!!”

Their clothes are sucked in by the quick movement. Sucked in inside Aofil. They look down, seeing the outline of their rib cage through the fabric of their clothes. Their clothes are tucked inside. Tucked inside nothing! There’s nothing for it to be tucked inside of, yet it is!

“No! What!”

Their robe is inside them, yet there’s no inside on Aofil for it to be inside of! The fabric caresses every nook and cranny of their ribs as well, wrapping it tightly. The cold bones are being comforted by the warm fabric, but Aofil’s anything but comforted! Everything’s wrong, everything’s gone! They’re overwhelmed by a chilled sinking feeling that radiates out from below their rib cage. Their stomach would be in turmoil if they still had one!

“SEE!” Papyrus present Aofil proudly to the rest of the room. “THEY’RE FINE!”

Ignoring Papyrus’ judgment, Toriel stands up carefully from her chair, and walks slowly to Aofil, “Aofil?” she asks calmly. “I know that this might feel strange to you.” She does Aofil a favor by kicking the mirror so that it spins around, turning Aofil’s reflection away. “I promise you that you’ll be fine though. Look at me.”

“how can they without eyeballs?” Sans wonders loudly.

Toriel looks over to Undyne, who nods quickly. She picks Sans up, and carries her outside the room.

“Thank you,” Toriel wishes to Undyne who returns it with a thumbs up over her shoulder. With that taken care of Toriel returns to Aofil. She offers her hand. “Yours will look like Papyrus’ and Sans’, keep that in mind.”

“how can they with a hollow skull?” comes from the kitchen. The sound of the patio door opening and closing follows shortly after.

Aofil looks over to their side, at their arm. White bone. No skin, no scales, no nothing. Just bones. They suppress a startled yell, and takes Toriel’s hand. Hers is warm, theirs is cold. Hers is fuzzy, theirs is hard.

“I really don’t like this,” Aofil whimpers on the way down from the wall and back into the sofa. They feel the cushions go up through their hip bones, “Really don’t!” and fold through their thigh bones, “Really! Fucking! Don’t!”

“just gotta get your backbone straight. allow me.”

Warm fingers wrap around Aofil’s spine, and they freeze mid horrified gasp.

“the shell sure is good at imitating nothing. it actually feels like you don’t have anything besides your skeleton, aof. and wow, look at you so pale.”

The patio door slams open and thunderous footsteps close in from the kitchen. A furious Undyne beelines straight to Sans and pulls her off Aofil. The sharp tug on the middle of their spine forces a stunned whimper out of Aofil.

“don’t worry, aofil will be just spine.”

The patio door slams shut again after another few seconds of more thundering footsteps with Undyne carrying Sans yet again.

It takes a minute or so before Aofil starts moving again, and then just barely. “I...” they stop and clack their teeth together. Another minute passes as they again try and work up enough courage to function as they are now. “Do you have any ideas, Pap? Because the sooner I can get out of this form, the better.”

Papyrus looks a bit sad at the notion, yet she stands tall. “AS MY MONSTER FRIEND WISHES!” She bends over, prompting everyone in the room to look away from her, and reaches under the sofa. “I, THE GREAT HUMAN PAPYRUS, CHALLENGE YOU, THE MONSTER AOFIL, TO A BATTLE OF THE MINDS! A BATTLE OF WITS, CUNNING, AND THE CIRCLING OF WORDS! NYEHEHEH!”

She emerges back up straight with a flat cardboard box brandishing a smiling ice cube on the cover. With a standing and proud pose she points the box towards Aofil. “I CHALLENGE YOU, MONSTER AOFIL, AS THE GREAT HUMAN PAPYRUS, TO JUNIOR JUMBLE!”

Somehow her cape starts fluttering, despite no wind. Not from Sans’ shortcut either. Strange…

Papyrus quickly fetches a table and arranges it next to Aofil. She then sits down on the opposite side of the sofa, and picks up her piece of the puzzle while sliding over Aofil’s.

“MAY THE BEST JUMBLER WIN! NYEH NYEH NYEH!

Aofil instantly spots all the words and circle them. Papyrus doesn’t notice though, she’s too busy finding just one. She looks very focused, almost too focused. Aofil decides to give her a reassuring pat on the back. “I believe in you, Papyrus!”

No answer. Hm, Aofil might not have been supportive enough. Better pose for Papyrus, that should raise her mood.

Aofil poses grandiosely, with their hands against their hips and their rib cage pouted! “Listen to me, my dear Papyrus! I, the grand Aofil, will help you however I can in this trial you’ve bestowed on us! For it is so friends act! It is so I will do, for I, the grand Aofil, have many friends, and thus I know what I need to do to uphold their spirits to the highest level!”

“THANK YOU, AOFIL!” Papyrus nods, but keeps her head down into the Junior Jumble. “BUT IT IS FINE! I, THE GREAT HUMAN PAPYRUS, WILL DEFEAT THIS PUZZLE! I WILL DO IT TO SAVE MY FRIEND FROM BEING A MONSTER, AND ME FROM BEING A HUMAN!”

There’s still some hesitation present in Papyrus’ voice, Aofil better tone it up even more! “Rest assured, dear human, that I, the grand Aofil, will dedicate my fullest attention to whenever you need help! Fame, power, popularity, nice cream in literal spades, all of this will I help you obtain!”

Papyrus thinks she finds a word, but it wasn’t compatible with the ones in the answer sheet. “I...I CAN OBTAIN THAT MYSELF!”

“But I can help you get it faster!”

“I’M SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU, AOFIL!” Papyrus scrambles up to pose next to Aofil. “IT IS BECAUSE OF ME THAT WE WILL COME BACK TO OUR ORIGINAL FORMS! I CAN’T HELP YOU IF YOU’RE HELPING ME! I WILL SOLVE THIS PUZZLE ALL ON MY OWN, AND OUR SHELLS WILL THEN SHATTER AS OUR BATTLE CONCLUDES!”

She isn’t making any progress on the puzzle though. Like, nothing at all. Not a single word is ringed in. Not a single correct word, that is. Papyrus must be very much in need of help if she’s this stubborn to not have it. Aofil sits down next to her.

“NO!”

What?

“I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM GOING TO HELP YOU, AOFIL! THAT IS WHAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DO! I HELP MY FRIENDS!”

A green light illuminates the space between Aofil and Papyrus. She swings her head around. “I AM THE ONE THAT HELPS! THIS PUZZLE IS THE ONLY THING STANDING BETWEEN ME HELPING YOU, AND I WILL DEFEAT IT! I WILL HELP YOU OVERCOME BEING A HANDSOME SKELETON, AOFIL!”

Papyrus’ jaw drops to the floor in sudden realization. Her expression freezes into stone. Slowly she turns her head back to the puzzle in front of her. She places her hand on it, and with a flick of her wrist she spins it around. She fumbles for her pen while keeping her eyes locked on the paper, narrowed by the green light right under her chin. When she finally finds the pen she places it on the paper. Her dropped jaw turns into a determined smile, and it grows as the circle she draws grows.

The letter ‘N’ is encompassed, brightening her eyes.

The letter ‘O’ is encompassed, further stretching her cheeks.

The letter ‘T’ is encompassed, and Aofil leans closer.

The letter ‘E’ is encompassed, and Papyrus holds her breath.

The letter ‘L’ is encompassed, and her face turns red.

Another ‘E’ is encompassed, and Aofil reminds Papyrus that she need to breathe.

The letter ‘K’ is encompassed, and Papyrus thanks Aofil for reminding her how not to die.

And finally.

‘S’

Papyrus flies up on her feet. She throws herself around Aofil, squeezing them tightly, “I TOLD YOU I WOULD HELP!”

Her soul and chest presses against Aofil’s rib cage. They feel it bend inwards, inwards towards nothing.

A loud crack echoes throughout the room. Papyrus releases Aofil, and they both stare down. Their shells crumbles a second later, revealing their true colors, their true souls.

“i’ve heard of a heart to heart, but this is ridiculous,” quips Sans from across the room.

“Sans!”  
“SANS!”

The two of them collapse from the gust flowing through the room.


	114. Flesh back on the bones

Aofil flies up as soon as they feel like they have some control back. They pat themselves all over, and heaves an enormously relieved sigh. Fur they can manage, scales they can manage, because those are just variations of skin. Not having anything though? The absolute worst!

Oh...wait...they still have Sans to do.

Shit!

Alphys hands Aofil a glass. “Some more water?”

They take it with a nod, “Thanks,” but to their horror they realize that the feeling of swallowing is foreign for the moment. They feel the water touch and flush all the way down into their stomach where it splashes. It makes them shudder.

God dammit.

“So who’s next?” wonders Undyne while stretching her arms in the air. “It’s getting well into tomorrow.”

“We should not hasten Aofil though. Let them regain their strength before continuing,” Toriel reminds with a thoughtful hand. “That being said, I do want to get this over with myself.”

Asriel throws a quick look, but Toriel doesn’t see it.

“I SHALL MAKE MY WORLD FAMOUS INFAMOUS SPAGHETTI!” announces Papyrus, in all his skeleton splendid and posing. “IT’LL HELP YOU, HUMAN AOFIL, TO RECONSTITUTE YOURSELF FOR THESE LAST BATTLES!”

Papyrus takes off into the kitchen.

“Yeah, just go ahead and use it again without asking, don’t mind asking me or Alphys or anything!” Undyne shouts after him. “Again!” she punctuates even harder.

“THANK YOU!” Papyrus replies from the kitchen.

An audible slap and grumble from Undyne as she shakes her head with a tired hand on her forehead can’t help but summon a smile on Aofil.

They raise their hand. “Could I make a request? Can Asgore be next? I’m not really comfortable with becoming a skeleton again so quickly.”

Sans shrugs, “sure,” and takes a hold of the zipper on her hoodie, “i can keep myself busy.”

Asogre stands up and motions for Alphys to take lead to the basement.

Another hand is raised. “Could I follow?”

Asgore stops and looks to Asriel. “To take the sample?”

Both of them have to again let the other’s voice sink in and be processed. Once Asriel feels she’s somewhat comfortable she nods. “Yeah.”

Asgore tilts her head down to Alphys. “S-sure? I don’t s-see why not?” she answers after some quick pondering.

The room turns a bit darker as the two fair skinned and golden haired women leave for the basement.

“Aofil,” Toriel says after giving Asgore and Asriel enough time to be out of earshot distance, “once you’re Asgore, and if it happens, could you try and not court me?”

The questions catches everyone still left in the living room’s full attention. Toriel isn’t fazed by it though, and she prepares to continue her request. “For his sake.”

Aofil shrugs. “I can try? Don’t know how much he’ll take hold over me though. So I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Just keep it in mind,” Toriel smiles warmly. “Alright? I won’t be upset with you if you don’t.”

“Depends on what you say,” Undyne nudges Aofil with a wink. “Maybe Toriel will want to have you stay as Asgore.”

To Aofil’s surprise Toriel chuckles at Undyne’s comment. She waves it away with a playful wink. “I can’t make any guarantees myself.”

“isn’t this the toriel you said you wanted to hide?”

Toriel quells her chuckle quickly. “She’s imposing,” Toriel throws out as an excuse, “like Aofil said.”

While zipping her hoodie up and down, Sans taps her chin in thought. “beforiel?”

Which summons another chuckle from Toriel that she desperately tries to hide.

The sound of wood loudly creaking emanates from the stairway after a coupe of minutes. A bit longer than the others before. Asgore’s immense and calming smile silences all, if any, worries as he presents the flask to Aofil.

Asriel sits back down again in the sofa. She leans on her knuckles, like she’s deep in thought. Maybe she’s afraid of needles, or whatever Alphys is using?

Anyway, bottoms up!

“Sweet,” Aofil smacks their tongue at the taste, “very sweet.”

They lay down on the sofa before the imminent dizziness takes over. It does so a bit slower this time, but it’s still unpleasant. Asgore sits down and picks up a book while she waits for the magic to happen.


	115. Yellow

“By the way, do you have any plans for how you want to battle Aofil, Asgore?”

A big white muzzle covers Aofil’s lower vision.

“I have some plans, yes. I’ll try the nonviolent method first.”

Their chin feels a bit softer though. Aofil rubs their hand on it. Very much softer.

Undyne can’t help but to put on a disappointed frown. “Aww, I wanted to see two kings fight.”

“Can’t have everything in the world,” Aofil stops and drags their hand down on their throat. That is some serious depth to their voice. It stuns the entire room. “Wow!” is the only reaction they can muster.

Aofil catches a glimpse of themselves in the mirror. A pair of thick sideburns, the same color as their hair, flows from their head down to the underside of their cheeks. Not a lot going on underneath their chin though, but their fur feels a bit fluffier to the touch. Their horns are longer than ever before, almost tilting their head backwards. Their clothes are showing some stress from their body pushing the fabric to its limit.

Undyne whistles, mighty impressed over what she sees. “Impressive, Aofil. If you decide to stay this way I might even let you off doing pushups. At least on my lawn since your arms will tunnel straight to the Earth’s core! Maybe though, just maybe.”

“You feeling well enough to start, Aofil?” wonders Asgore, not really comfortable with not being the most imposing of figures any longer. “I’ll prepare in the backyard if you need a bit more time.”

Aofil stands up from the sofa, stopping for a second to take in the loud complaint it did. “I’m fine, so I’ll follow you.”

Asgore is again a bit taken back by someone else having a deeper voice than him. “Sounds good,” he still acknowledges with a friendly nod.

The floorboards creak underneath Aofil’s feet. They walk carefully as to spread out their weight as much as possible. Their head is dragged back as they reach the doorway though, as their horns hit the top of it with a thunk. They stumble backwards, but to everyone’s relief they catch their balance. They bend down and tilt their head sideways only to have their horns drag against the side of the doorway.

“Sorry,” they sheepishly apologize.

The suppressed giggling from everyone is punishment enough.

There’s one voice that stands out though. A beautiful voice. Smooth as silk, and warming like a thousand fires on the coldest of days. Aofil turns around, and at the other end of the room, with her soft hand over her even softer muzzle, she stands. A muzzle opened in an innocent smile, all for Aofil. Her eyes are like gems, glistening like stars. An incredible creature.

A queen.

“Toriel?” Aofil asks.

“What is it, Aofil?”

She even speaks their name. Such bliss! Such joy! A thousand wishes could never match up to her beauty!

“I couldn’t help but notice, Toriel, that you’re standing. Why don’t I help you find a suitable seat?” Aofil walks back to the biggest felt chair. They sit down, and pat their leg. “Here’s one I’m sure you’ll find to your liking.”

“Oh my...” Toriel’s hand is pressed harder on her muzzle. “Aofil, remember what you promised.”

Aofil smiles warmly, and invitingly. “I’m not Aofil now, am I? I’m half Asgore, so you’re allowed to indulge yourself a bit.” Aofil offers their hand. “I only ask to be near you, that’s all.”

A hand grabs the fuzzy fingers, but it isn’t one of fur, but of skin. Asriel balls Aofil’s fingers together. “Aofil. Stop!” she gnarls furiously.

“I’m just-”

“No! Aofil. Stop! Go outside so we can get this over with.”

Aofil turns their head towards Toriel. “Will it please you if I went outside?”

Toriel moves her eyes to Asriel. She sees the frustration in Asriel’s face, and then moves her eyes back to Aofil. “Is me saying ‘yes’ to that the only way to get you out of here?”

“That,” Aofil agrees, “and a kiss on the mouth.”

Asriel grips and bends Aofil’s fingers, but she barely moves them.

Toriel walks up to Aofil, bends down while holding their chin, and gives them a peck on their fuzzy cheek. “Now go outside before I decide to keep you.”

Aofil’s smile beams like the midday sun. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I was joking.” Toriel lifts Aofil up by their arm. “Now off you go.”

The outside air is a lot warmer than what it was before. Not as warm as Toriel, but not as cold as Asriel’s stare. Could be that it’s because Aofil’s covered with fur this time.

They squeeze themselves carefully out the small patio door. Asgore asks Aofil to wait for a moment as he calls for Undyne. “You don’t happen to have any gardening equipment?” she asks the blue monsters as she comes jogging out the door.

Undyne nods confidently, and whips up a scythe in her hand with her magic. “Whatcha want?”

“Some hedge clippers and the likes, if you don’t mind.”

“For Aofil as well?”

Asgore nods. “Please, and thank you.”

Aofil’s hands are filled with gardening tools of various kinds. A sizable collection, if the do say so themselves. Asgore motions for some hedges next to the shed. “You don’t mind us working on those, Undyne?”

“Free trimmings from Asgore and almost Asgore?” She gives Asgore an approving and excited thumbs up. “It has to be Alphys’ or my face though! Ngahahaha!”

A small breeze runs through Aofil’s beard. They find themselves enjoying the feeling. They close their eyes and enjoy it for a bit.

A loud cough from Asgore snaps them out of it though. “Shall we?”

She’s probably a bit upset not feeling it herself. Aofil enjoys it for a little bit longer before following Asgore to the hedges at the back fence of the yard.

“Alphys or Undyne?” Asgore asks once they both reach the frankly irresponsibly wild and untamed vegetation.

Aofil strokes their own wild and untamed bushy cheeks. “I don’t know, do you have a preference?”

Asgore smiles ever so inviting. “I do not, but I appreciate you asking. Since you’re technically the guest you should have first pick.”

Aofil chuckles, feeling their volume filled, yet still relaxed voice, echo all the way to the house walls. “Oh no, Asgore, you’re the expert here. I don’t want to restrain you from expressing yourself.”

“Oh for the love of!” Undyne heaves an annoyed sigh from across the lawn. “Asgore, you do my face! Aofil, you do Alphys’! There! Now we don’t have to wait for you two to polite yourself back and forth until the shells fade on their own!”

Her flailing arms lowers after a brief pause of thinking. “Unless…”

Asgore pinches her forehead. “Yes, Undyne. I wanted to see if it would be enough to get our shells out..”

Undyne lifts a finger to explain herself, but she quickly puts it down, “I’m gonna head inside,” before cursing herself out under her breath all the way back inside the house.

Asgore snickers to herself. “Then I guess we have to resort to sculpting.”

Aofil looks at the tools in their hands, “Seems like it,” but they’re not really sure how to start.

Alphys is their goal, but where to begin? Should Aofil do her in profile? Probably. How will they do her spikes though? Should they try and create some negative space so it looks better whilst in shadow? The moon plus the sizzling light coming off Undyne’s magic should be enough to see how the shadowing will play out.

There’s some sticks around underneath the hedge. Might be useful to make her glasses in case Aofil doesn’t have enough depth of the foliage to work with.

Aofil bounces the pruning scissors in their hand as they figure out the best angle to start on. A couple of strokes on their beard helps, and they decide to begin with the back of Alphys’ head. It’s the angle on her spikes that will determine the rest of the work, so it’s best to work out from them instead of realizing that the angle is completely off halfway through.

Aofil snips the scissors, spins them around their finger once, and begins. It’s not long before they feel a sudden urge to whistle. They begin with a subtle hum, but it escalates quickly to a jolly whistle.

A snippet here, a snippet there. All the perfect imperfections of the leafs fit the texture of Alphys’ scales. Just need to carefully form the branches, to carefully bend the fractals of nature so that they make the desired shape. Gently though, Aofil need to keep in mind that they’re only trimming, not forcing the hedge. If the hedge dies, how can Aofil make Alphys’ face feel truly alive? Can’t make living art on a dead canvas.

Oops, they cut a bit too much for her cheek. No worries though. They can make it work. Just a golly goof, that’s all. No unfortunate happenings, just golly little goofs.

It doesn’t take long before Alphys’ face takes its rough shape. The more minute details comes along very quickly as well. Aofil’s hands move unburdened. They barely have to touch or cut anything before it magically forms just like their mind envisions.

They take a step back, and allow themselves to indulge in their creation. They’re not gonna admit it out loud, but it’s an almost perfect image of Alphys. Had she been green it would’ve been perfect.

“Golly,” they smile as they turn to see how Asgore’s doing, “it’s like Undyne’s staring right at me.”

She nods as she brushes off the last unruly leafs. “Was about to say the same about your Alphys, Aofil.”

“Thank you,” Aofil puts their hand up to their chest, “both outside and inside you.”

Asgore joins in Aofil’s pleased chuckle. Once it dies down though, she seems a bit concerned. “Your shell?”

Aofil looks down, but there’s no white light almost blinding them. They look over to Asgore trying to bring out hers, but her chest is just as dark as Aofil’s.

“Hm,” Asgore furrows her brow in thought, “this is not what I expected.”

“Asgore!”

Undyne comes running from the house with a phone in her hand and her other hand covering it. She stops with her eyes widened in panic. “It’s the humans!”

Asgore motions for Undyne to be a bit more specific.

“The human meeting! From across the sea!”

Asgore’s eyes widen just like Undyne’s. “But I canceled,” she whispers.

“Something about time zones! I don’t know, but they sound angry!”

Asgore reaches for the phone, but Undyne pulls it back towards her. “Alphys’ gadget broke when her shell did, by the way.”

Asgore retracts her hand, and after some deliberating, she looks over to Aofil.

“Um...” they reply.

“It’s the only way, I’ll tell you what to say though,” Asgore assures, “don’t worry.”

Aofil swallows, and holds out their hand for the phone. They nestle it under their ear while tilting it a bit outwards so Asgore can lean in and hear. “Asgore here,” they speak while mimicking his voice as closely as possible.

Asgore clenches her teeth, but ones a voice comes back through the phone she relaxes a bit.

“Greetings, Asgore. Our deepest apologies for insisting on continuing with this meeting. We know you requested it to be moved, but the subject matter is too important to postpone.”

Aofil looks to Asgore for any advice. She rolls her finger, so Aofil tries a reply. “It is I who should apologize, I should’ve informed you sooner that the clock wouldn’t be in my favor. The blame is on me.”

Asgore nods with her thumb extended. Aofil’s a bit surprised it worked out so well.

“Pay it no further mind,” the phone asks. “I’m also sure that you’d rather keep the negotiations short because of that. We have come to a general consensus and only need your input on it to finalize, Asgore. When it sounds fair to your ears we’ll continue on our end and send over our proposal in written form so that you can go through it in your own time. Sounds good?”

Asgore nods, and Aofil relay. “That sounds wonderful. I’m all ears.”

Asgore leans a bit closer so that she doesn’t miss any details.

There’s some shuffling of papers on the other end of the phone before another voice clears its throat. “I’m gonna cut to the chase, Asgore, the trade regulations proposed are a bit absurd. Could you please explain the importance of socks in your monster culture for you to prioritize this so high?”

Asgore freezes solid with her eyes stuck on Aofil, who puts their hand over the receiver. “What?” they mouth quietly.

Asgore scratches her nose while trying to figure out what to say. It takes so long that the phone has to ask. “You still there, Asgore?”

Aofil returns the phone underneath their ear. “I’m still here.”

“Could you please tell?”

Asgore tries to tell, but she fails. She returns to her thinking, with her cheeks becoming increasingly red and blossoming.

“Is it,” Aofil licks their lips, “is it important for you to know?”

There’s no answer from the phone.

“Will you not knowing compromise us cooperating in current and future affairs?”

Asgore nods in deepest thanks to Aofil.

“I...” the sound of several fabrics rustling escapes the phone’s speaker. “I guess not? It would help though if we knew the exact nature of your request.”

Asgore huffs, clearly irritated by the lack of respect given. Aofil feels the same. They wonder how the suits on the other end would like a taste of their own medicine. Before they can open their mouth though they’re overtaken by another thought. Instead of giving it back, what if they would take the extra step.

And be constructive instead?

Aofil breathes in deep through their muzzle. “And I presume you say that on top of a shadow less position where the truth is as rigid as a cement pillar and cannot be bent in the slightest? Look around the room you’re in, how many would you trust with secrets you’re not sure you can trust onto yourself? Yet, you still believe in them, and that they will see this proposal prosper to the best of their abilities. For as much as I want to stay fair and see us as equal, that won’t happen until I am given the same in return. If you can overcome your fellow humans, then prove that you can overcome monsterkind as well, starting with me. I have seen human culture differing more between each other than I have monster culture from human. So, I ask you, why should I make business with someone who only sees barriers, and not opportunities?”

Aofil catches their mouth with their hand too late. Wide eyed they look down to Asgore. They’ve no idea where that came from! Honestly! Asgore’s biting her lip with her eyes anxiously locked on the phone. It illuminates a bright yellow that fills the space between Aofil and Asgore.

“Comment retracted,” says the phone. “We can continue.”

Aofil bends over in a deep and long sigh that almost knocks Asgore over. They chuckle, but when they straighten their back up again they hear a crack.

The top of their white shells smacks into the bottom of Asgore’s yellow shell. Aofil manages to cover the receiver of the phone just in time before the shells break apart.

“Asgore?” wonders the phone.

“We,” Aofil falls down on one knee. They hold their hand out on their soul with all their strength to keep it from coming back inside them. “W-we’re g-gonna have to postpone the negotiations for a short while. I’ll call you back.”

They disconnect the call just before their fingers slip on their soul, and it shooting back inside them. They bounce on their muzzle as they hit the grass hard.


	116. And back to bones

A sharp elbow hits Aofil in the ribs. They open their eyes and turn their head to Sans smiling and holding a flask out to Aofil. “bone appetite,” he wishes.

Aofil ignores the pun. “Not Asriel?”

“she wants to be last.”

“Really?” Aofil bends their chin up to get confirmation from Asriel. To Aofil’s surprise, she nods, “Huh.”

“i’m offended that you think so little of me,” Sans huffs out as she rolls her finger through her hair. “you’re always looking down on me.”

Aofil takes the flask, “Well, you know,” they drink it all up. A bit sour, but not as sour as they’d imagined, “you are kinda short.”

“heh. looks like it works instantly.”

Undyne stands up from her chair. “Everyone prepare! Soon we’ll have two Sans!”

“you make that sound negative.”

Aofil lies back down and closes their eyes. “I’d rather get being a skeleton again over with as fast as possible. Could you think of something that would get our souls into conflict while I’m under?”

Sans shrugs. “maybe after i take a nap.”

Aofil’s sigh worsens their dizziness, and they fade out.


	117. Blue

“aof? wake up, it’s important.”

Aofil shrugs with their eyes closed, or whatever it is making them not see anything. “Nah!” They’re comfortable lying down not doing anything. “It’s fine by me.”

A bright light breaks through the dark of their closed eyes.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Undyne scoffs loudly. “Is that it?”

“well, you know,” Sans taps on something, it has a very strange hollow sound to it. “good thing it’s not a blueper.”

“Why…” Undyne sighs tiredly. “Let’s just smash the shells together already!”

Aofil peeks just in time to see Undyne pick up Sans and slam her blue heart down on Aofil’s shell.

“Man, that felt good!” Undyne cheers. She plants Sans gently into a vacant chair.

“remember to thank me when you’re human again, aof. you didn’t even have to open your eyes.”

“Humany times do you want me to?”

Sans chuckles before yawning. “Good one.”


	118. Last drink

“aof? wake up, it’s important.”

Aofil rubs their eyes, and opens them. Sans, now back to his skeleton self, is holding a bone above Aofil. “your leg came off.”

Aofil flies up! “What!” but as they pat their legs they don’t find anything wrong with them.

Sans spins the bone between his fingers. “alright, aof’s awake!” He lets the bone fizzle away and heads to the nearest soft pillow. He leans back into it. “wake me when they’re done with asriel. for as much as i want to see the beautiful human princess getting swept away only for the big twist that she actually is a monster, i have to get my own beauty sleep. i might have some wrinkles after all that skin.” Sans leans back into the sofa and closes his eyes. “although the title of sleeping beauty is better suited for asriel.”

Aofil glances over to a fuming Asriel clenching at her legs not to fly off the hook.

Alphys offers a full glass to Aofil. “Some more water?”

Aofil takes it. “Thanks.”

“I’ll just get some of Asriel’s essence and then we’ll be back.”

Aofil nods. “Sure thing.”

“And also,” Asriel looks around to the others, “can I do it alone with Aofil? Without any of you looking?”

“i was just kidding about the whole sleeping beauty thing...”

Asriel throws Sans a vicious leer. Not to great effect since his eyes are closed.

“I g-guess? But,” Alphys wrings one of her claws around, “h-how will we know when the two of you are done?”

“just be in earshot of the explosion?” suggest Sans while still not making the effort to open his eyes. “if i were to guess, then that would be somewhere on this continent with these two clashing together,” he proposes with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

The deafening silence that follows doesn’t faze him. “and if we’re all this quiet it might even stretch to two continents.”

Asriel shakes her frustrated head. Her flowing hair waves back and forth like seaweed under a crashing wave, and she grabs it to make it stop. “Let’s just go, Alphys.”

With Asriel and Alphys disappearing down to the basement Aofil turns back to Toriel. “Where’s Asgore, by the way?”

“Oh, he is on the phone with the humans.”

“Did I,” Aofil drums their finger on the half empty glass. “Did I screw it up?”

“I,” Toriel bites her lip down. “I think it’s fine, Aofil. Don’t worry about it.”

Not the most convincing assurance, but if Aofil’s done enough damage already it might be better to leave it be to not do more. They nod with a smile. “Alright, gotcha.”

Despite having drunk almost the entire glass of water Aofil’s mouth still feels dry. They smack their tongue, but the dryness doesn’t go away. They should refill it.

Once refilled in the kitchen they drink it all up. It helps, but not awfully much. Two more glasses soothes it though, and Aofil refills one more time just to be safe.

They almost bump into Asriel and Alphys on their way back up to the living room. Alphys fumbles with the flask in her hand, but Asriel catches it just before Alphys drops it. 

“T-thanks!”

Asriel hands it to Aofil, who downs the water before moving on to the flask. To their surprise the water held more taste than Asriel’s magic. They don’t get to hang on that thought though, as they almost immediately after have to take support against the wall with their arm.

Undyne glides around the living room corner in a hurry. “Why did you drink it here?”

Aofil mumbles an answer, incomprehensible to everyone that’s close enough to hear it. Undyne taps the side of her skull as she walks up to help Aofil not collapse on their own skull. “Sometimes,” she says as she catches Aofil falling over, “even I am speechless about how we all act.”


	119. Red, and all the others

“You coming to life?”

The air in the room smells a bit different. More...pink. When Aofil opens up their eyes they see why, they’re in a different room. Their hand hits the edge of their muzzle, and Aofil jumps a bit from the impact. With a small grunt they finally find their eyes with their hand and rub them. Carefully, don’t want any fur in them.

Aofil sits up. “Yeah, I’m up,” they inform with another grunt and stretch of their back. They look back at the bed that’s a bit too small for their current form. A plastic figurine lies exactly where they back just were. Mew Mew season one, Mew Mew’s companion during the rainbow arc.

“Mirror to your left.”

Aofil turns to their left, and yup, there they are. Not as tall as they were as Toriel, but with a bit more broader shoulders and larger horns. Not as large as they were as Asgore though. Their clothes are fitting them almost perfectly now as well. Wait a second, there seems to be a bit of dirt on their cheeks. Aofil wets a finger, being very close to stab their own tongue, and attempts to brush the black lines off.

“That won’t come off, so don’t bother.”

Aofil looks to Asriel sitting with her shoulders sunk down and her forehead in her hand. They drag a finger on the lines again. Doesn’t feel like fur, nor skin. Weird.

“Please!” Asriel begs. “Stop touching yourself!”

A series of gasps slither their way through the door. With an angry sigh Asriel stands up and bangs her fist on the door. There’s some commotion outside it, and she opens it slightly ajar. “I asked you to leave us alone!” she shouts to the ones outside.

She slams it back closed and sits down heavy into the pink and yellow chair. It doesn’t even creak.

Aofil decides it’s best to just get this over with. “You look like you want this done as quickly as possible, Asriel.”

“You think?”

Could tone back on the sarcasm a little there. Another reason to get it done quickly, Aofil supposes. ”So how do you want to do this?”

She shrugs and throws up her hands. “Not a clue.”

“Do you want to just drag out your soul and see what will happen”

Asriel puts her hand up to her chest, being careful not to touch her chests plural. After some quiet focusing a bright crimson heart is revealed. She doesn’t look so surprised by it though. “Figures it would be red.”

Aofil grabs their own chest. “If Undyne saw you now she would be impressively jealous.”

Asriel looks at her soul with lips curled and eyes narrowed in thought. “Yeah,” she mutters. After a minute or so she looks at the door. She tiptoes up to it very strangely. Like in a movie, very dramatic. It perplexes Aofil for a bit before they realize and look down at their own feet. Soft as pillows. Asriel is not used to having to activate stealth mode, he’s in it constantly normally. As long as he keeps the sharp toe claws in check.

Asriel concludes after another silent minute that she and Aofil are alone now. She tiptoes back to her chair and takes a deep breath. “Aofil?”

Aofil nods. “Yes?”

“Can you do me a massive favor afterwards and not tell anyone what I’m about to ask you?”

Aofil readjusts themselves on the sofa. What’s Asriel planning? They nod, mostly out of curiosity.

Asriel glances down at their soul again. “Could you,” they bounce it impatiently, “could you pretend to be me?”

Aofil could never be prepared enough to not let their jaw hit the floor from such a request.

Asriel continues regardless of Aofil’s dazed expression. “And then I can pretend to be Frisk? And we could then redo the battle Frisk and me had before I broke the Barrier?”

The floor underneath Aofil’s jaw is about to give in. “What?” they somehow manage to say.

“I know it sounds a bit weird of me to ask you to do this. To be fair I don’t even know if we can do it. I’d never ask Frisk this, because...you know...”

Aofil tries desperately to pick up their jaw from the floor. They have to understand why. “Why?”

“Because,” Asriel bites her teeth as she struggles to figure out how to explain it, “because it might help me. Help me forget. Maybe if I can put myself in Frisk’s shoes I can understand how they thought...and it might help me forget how I thought.”

Asriel slumps over in pain as she accidentally grips her soul. Aofil stand up to help, but Asriel motions for them to stay. She grits through the pain with some sharp gasps of air, and sits up again. “I’ll never forget what I did, but maybe if I can think of it in another way I can work through it better.”

“Alright,” Aofil can’t really see a reason to say no. “How do you want to do this then?”

“Maybe if you tried to bring out Flowey?”

Didn’t have to wait long for one! 

“No, I’m not gonna try and do that, Asriel. That’s a horrible idea!”

Asriel sighs. “You’re right, sorry,” and beings her soul inside again. “Let’s think of something else.”

Suddenly the room is devoid of color. Devoid of warmth. No! Why did she do that? The soul was comforting to Aofil.“Bring it out again.” They point to Asriel’s chest. “Get your soul out.”

She looks up with her brow furrowed. “Why? It feels cold and weird when I have it out. Let’s just think of something else.”

Aofil stands up. “But it was nice to look at. It,” they take a step forward, “reminded me of someone.”

Asriel scoots back with her chair. “Aofil?”

“Is it red because that’s what you’ve always wanted it to be?” Aofil reaches out for Asriel with a timid hand. “Is that it?”

Asriel steps out of her chair and takes cover behind it. “Aofil? Stay back. You’re not you.”

Aofil blinks, and then stops. They stare at their hands, running their fingers against the palm of their hand. No, it’s not them. It’s someone else. Someone better. Aofil can feel it now. It’s flowing all throughout them. Determination. It’s so good.

So many flavors of it as well. Not only their own, but all others as well. Aofil feel them all inside. Squirming, tickling them from inside.

They just need one more, and Asriel’s soul is red, just like Frisk’s. Just like Chara’s. Someone needs to take care of it. Someone.

That’s.

Not.

An.

Idiot!

“Should’ve been careful what you wished for Asriel,” Aofil chuckles with their teeth exposed.

Asriel backs into the wall behind her with a silent squeal. “A-Aofil?”

A timid grin grows on the white muzzle. “It’s me, Asriel.”

Her eyes shoot wide open in fear.

“Your best friend.”

Aofil leans over to the nearby wall, and flicks the ceiling light off.

The room is covered in darkness, but only for a short moment. From behind Aofil a vortex of colors begins forming. It spins like a top, throwing stars and colors all round them. It’s not long before the room is even brighter and more colorful than before.

Stars, galaxies of shifting colors, clouds like translucent rainbows. All of them adds to the blinding shine that breaks up the seemingly infinite void created around the monster and human.

Asriel looks around, intimidated by the shift in both space and light. The room is not a room anymore, but a universe. A universe populated by countless sources of spectacular color and glistening stars.

One shines brighter than all other, and it grows ever stronger with every second that passes.

Asriel realizes just in time, and in the last second, she dodges the shooting star heading straight for her. She lands on solid ground, but it doesn’t hurt, nor is it solid. A floor made out of nothing, yet still there for Asriel to stand on.

The trail of glistening sparks hover around Asriel, almost like if she was under water. She caresses one in her hand, clutching it close. When she opens it the spark is gone.

A booming laughter thunder all around her. It sounds like it’s coming from everywhere at once, yet is still far away for it to be physically impossible for her to even hear it.

“Is this how you felt, Asriel?”

Aofil fades in before her. Their lips pulled back in a sinister grin, not from a muzzle, but from a human’s mouth. Black eyes, with slim yellow irises running up and down, vibrates in excitement. Their blossoming cheeks are split in two by the black line running through them, and bursting out of Aofil’s skull and through their hair is a pair of horns, wicked in shape. From their hands they weave stars and galaxies from their barest of whim.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Asriel gazes upon the god of this newly formed universe. She stares with legs shaking and arms cowering.

Aofil shakes their head while crossing their arms. “Looks like you got your wish then. Now,” Aofil places their hand over their torso. With a nonchalant tug they extract their soul and holds it for Asriel to be awed by.

A spinning heart with all the colors of the rainbow rotating inside it in the opposite direction.

“You might’ve been a god, Asriel, but that was because you were elevated from just a monster. I’ve been elevated from a human!”

A pair of enormous wings shoots out from behind Aofil. Fur, scales, skin, and bone. All of it mixed together to form a membrane both grotesque and magnificent at the same time. Pulsating in sync with the spinning heart, the wings shift both in color and intensity of the four materials floating outstretched behind Aofil.

“You said you wanted to feel what Frisk felt?” Aofil flexes their wrist, summoning a spectral image  
of Frisk next to Asriel. “Mirror to your left.”

Asriel spins around, but the hair that graces their vision isn’t golden, it’s brown. Standing in the mirror is Frisk. Asriel takes a step back as the shock flows through them. They look down at the blue and purple striped shirt through eyes narrowed, almost like slits. Their skin has shifted, it’s no longer fair skinned.

“And for me to pretend to be you?”

Asriel’s ears perk. They turn to Aofil, being them. Just as they were back then. The same cocky smirk, the same dark colored robe giving way to a pair of white arms raised with hands flat up creating the same arrogant shrug. “I’m gonna keep my own wings though,” Asriel hears himself speak with that gravely voice, “they’re much more fitting a being greater than a god such as I. Also, for the sake of your wish, from now on, I will be Asriel, and you will be Frisk. Got it?”

“W-what? N-No!” Frisk shakes their head violently. “But-” They freeze in place. “How?”

“Pfft!” Asriel again shrugs with his palms raised over his head. “Didn’t you do something similar before when you fought Frisk. Wait!” Asriel smacks his forehead and lets out a faint chortle. “I’m supposed to be Asriel! Sorry, I’ll keep up the role playing from now on.”

Frisk stares at their empty hands, baffled, with their eyes blinking as they can’t believe what’s happening. Even with everything that has happened today. Asriel agrees. “Yeah, something’s missing. Let’s see here...” He taps his muzzle while gently bobbing up and down in the air. His wings follow, still ever changing in both hue and fabric.

After some brief thinking he snaps his fingers, “Oh yeah!” causing a nearby cluster of galaxy to explode into a myriad of flickering shards. “The stick!” he exclaims, pushing away the remnants of the explosion with the force of his voice.

A twig materializes in Frisk’s hand, and they recoil back as they feel the weight of it.

“You don’t look convinced.” Asriel crosses his arms. “There was a stick, right? I, I mean you, not you you, but real you, real Frisk...” He sighs tiredly. “This was more annoying than I thought it would be. Alright, gonna have to pull back the curtain here again, sorry. Frisk told me, Frisk told Aofil, that they used a stick when they fought you, Asriel. Is that correct?”

The stunned human manages a nod.

The monster shines up with the brightness of a supernova. “Great! Okay, back to our roles.”

Asriel lifts his hand, and waves his fingers forward. A small army of stars close in on Frisk. They barely have enough time to look around and take in the threat before they start nimbly dodging both the direct impact, and then the subsequent burst shooting shards of glimmering wonder at their body.

Asriel nods, very impressed by the display. “The shell does more than I thought it would.”

Frisk shoots a glare back.

Asriel puts his hands up. “Sorry, I’ll go back to playing the role.”

“That wasn’t what I meant!”

Another star explodes behind Frisk, and they barely sidestep the following explosion. It tears a hole in their shirt, but doesn’t break their skin.

“Good stuff!” Asriel reaches behind his back and pulls out a large white cannon with panes of glass covering the center of it. It fills up with a rainbow like energy, and Asriel whistles to catch Frisk’s attention. “And here’s some better stuff!”

An enormous beam of energy is fired out of the cannon. Asriel’s robe and ears flutter in the turbulence it creates. Frisk jumps out of they way, and the beam passes right under one of their legs. It shoots off into the distant void, never to be seen again.

“Man, this is amazing! Wow!” The cannon fades away from Asriel’s hands. “This is hype as all hell!”

He throws his arms diagonally down outwards, forming a pair of wicked swords, one in each hand. He spins them around, and prepares to lunge against Frisk. “Not spinning my head this time though!”

Frisk spins the stick in their hand as well, but it just summons a chuckle from Asriel.

Asriel bends his knees, and takes off.

As he swings his weapons, a trail of stars and distorted rainbows follow almost like a road behind. The wicked yet still angelic blades close in on Frisk, and they raise their stick to protect themselves.

The ensuing impact ripples out throughout the conjured cosmos, shattering everything into the tiniest of particles, and bending the fabric of reality itself like it was but paper in a hurricane. Planets, solar systems, entire galaxies, all annihilated in less than a blink of an eye.

Asriel weaves back from the impact, a smile brighter than the combined luminosity of the universe he’s the master of stretching his lips and cheeks to the brim.

“Fuck!”

His sword are sucked up inside his sleeves.

“Yes!”

Frisk clutches their shoulder. They don’t know if it’s out of commission or not, but more importantly, they’re still standing! Somehow their stick managed to deflect the blow. How it did they have no idea. They grunt from the pain, and throw a deadly glare towards the floating god howling with laughter.

“I know you’re not one for swearing, but man!” Asriel clutches his head in total awe. “How the hell did you lose before? Seriously! Fuck me, dude. Or dudette.”

“Frisk won by-”

“Ah ah ah!” Asriel reminds, they lean in towards the human with one hand covering the other side of his mouth. “Keep in character,” he whispers playfully. 

Frisk sighs. “I won by sheer determination. Even in the face of a god I kept my determination, I kept in mind what was important.”

Asriel nods and motions for Frisk to continue.

“I,” Frisk’s brow narrows in thought, “beat you, Asriel. You thought you finally had it all. That you finally had achieved what you always wished for. You became arrogant, cocky, too full of yourself.”

Asriel nods in agreement.

“Even though nothing about you was yourself!” Frisk brandishes their stick towards Asriel. “I won because my strength was earned, not stolen!” They charge forward! “You were just a shell, like you are now! Just as I had to break the shell once, I have to do it again.”

Asriel takes a bow and applauds the human closing in on them. “Great speech!”

Aofil sidesteps the attack. They let their conjured image fade from both themselves, and Asriel. The image of Asriel as the Hypergod, and Frisk as the defiant human dissipates, leaving Aofil with their wings, and Asriel as her human self. “But the thing is, like I said before, I am a human. So you gotta try better than just running in a straight line at me.” Aofil flicks one of their horns playfully. “Well, I’m more than human, but you get my point.”

Asriel falls over. She braces for the impact, but it comes much sooner than she expects. On top of that, it’s softer than she anticipated. A pink smell hits her nose as well. Almost as if…

“You see, Asriel. I am in the same situation as you were way back when fighting Frisk. I just need one more soul, the one you have. It’s pretty stirred up at the moment since I can feel it all the way from here.” Aofil waves some air into their nose. “Ah, smells like determination.”

Asriel stands up, and to her surprise, the void below her creaks. It has to be! There’s no other way. She only has to…

A spear swooshes by her head. “Hey!” Aofil snaps their finger. “I’m talking here, pay attention.”

Quickly now! “Oh, I’ll give you some attention alright!” Asriel brings out her soul. Aofil was right, it’s pulsating like crazy! “If this is what you want, then come and get it.”

Aofil can barely believe their ears. “A bit cliché, don’t you think?” but they shrug it off, “Oh well, if you insist.”

Should just be one step, and, perfect!

Asriel bends down and shoves her hands along the floor. The rough wooden texture gives way to soft fabric, and she hastily fumble for the edges of the rug that has to be there! She wraps the fabric around her hands, and thrust the carpet as high as she can!

Aofil stumbles over and lands heavily on their back. A pained moan echoes throughout the cosmos before it vanishes. The stars, galaxies, and the various and intense colors disappeared in an instant, leaving no light left.

Asriel waves her hand in front of her face, but she doesn’t see it. With her arm outstretched she leans to her side, and to her immense delight, it hits a wall. She fumbles for the light switch, and finds it!

She flicks it, and finds herself back inside the room! She laughs in joy, but it’s short lived, as she only now realizes that she’s back to being human.

“Dammit.”

Aofil rubs the back of their head. It hurt, despite landing on the carpet. They as well put their arm up against the light fixture stinging their eyes. They’re back to being a monster.

“What just happened?”

Immediately after Aofil sits up in a hurry. Something inside their chest starts vibrating something fierce, like it’s about to shake loose every bone and muscle in their body. They drag their soul out, and see that their white shell is cracking. Asriel does the same with hers.

The collective shockwave throws the door open and hits Undyne and Alphys in the face. They’re both tossed backwards in a joint squeal alerting the rest in the house. A myriad of footsteps rush up the stairs. Toriel reaches the open door first.

In an instant she spins on her heels and stop the rest from gaining view of Asriel and Aofil bundled together. Aofil tries to explain, but their strength is sapped. They can’t even remove Asriel’s hair out of their face.

The golden hair soon turns darker as Aofil loses consciousness.


	120. Hangover

“My head...”

“good thing the worst one was the last.”

Aofil presses the palm of their hand against their lobe. “Water, please and thank you, whoever brings it.”

They’re handed a plastic cup from Alphys. “A-all the glass kinda, um-”

“Shattered!” Undyne shouts in a mutter, sweeping up the last shards from below the living room window. “But it was worth it! That explosion was amazing!”

Aofil looks around. “So you’re all back now?”

“Yes!” Toriel bows her head. “We thank you immensely, Aofil.”

“It was my pleasure,” they respond.

“Oh no!” retorts Undyne. “It was all our pleasure seeing you turn into every one of us!” She raises her arm to cheer, but in doing so she pours out all the shards of glass she collected. With a quiet swear she bends down to sweep them up again. “Although I’d love to hear what just happened.”

Aofil glances over to Asriel who waves his hand flat across his throat while shaking his head.

“Can’t remember,” Aofil spurts out.

Asriel puts up a discrete thumb.

“SO, HOW DO WE DO THIS FOR FRISK’S BIRTHDAY?”

“Costumes,” Aofil takes a sip of quenching water. “Definitely costumes.”

“mirror?” Sans offers.

“I’m fine,” Aofil says, but takes the opportunity to look down to make sure. “I’m also noticing that I have my own clothes back.”

“Sans went ahead and fetched you some new ones,” Asriel explains with his own clothes folded on his knees, “and I want these back if you don’t mind.”

Not a problem. “It’s yours, after all.”

“I’m glad we finally reached ‘after all’.”

Aofil can’t help but not fully agree. They don’t ever want to do it again, true.

“Yeah, me too,” they still say.

But...


	121. House of fun, reluctantly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to the canon.

“Mister fucking Lister!”

The Golden Flower tea skims the edges of Aofil’s cup as they bend down to pick the newspaper up with a huge smile stretching over their lips. Not a drop is spilled though, their cup wouldn’t allow it. Aofil flicks the fold straight, and their smile grows even wider.

“Long time no damn see!”

Now this is how you start a morning!

Aofil ogles the list as they head through their kitchen. “Ten tips for moving into the Monster City!” shouts the list’s title with pride in overflowing galore. Mister Lister has gotten a few more gray hairs, some more slick lines to show his tenacity and dedication to his craft. 

And what a craft it is!

One of the reasons actually caught Aofil by surprise.

“Bring your own toilet!” advises reason number six. “As Monster City is still under construction, there still are homes where you can put in an order for plumbing compatible with toilets. If that isn’t the case, then bringing your own toilet will just require it to be connected instead of waiting for more deliveries. Prices may rise as more and more humans move, so making sure that you have one will give you relief when you need relief.”

Maybe Aofil should corner the market? They could very likely get either Toriel or Asgore to advertise their line. Perhaps even Frisk? Toilets approved by the Royal Family! Feel the warmth of the Delta Rune every single time you sit down. A throne approved by a butt familiar with golden thrones!

Some good slogans. Shame to have them go to waste.

Aofil almost snorts their tea as they chuckle at their own joke. The cup in their hand stabilizes in the last second, keeping all the tea inside.

The sun is quite calm this morning. Not blazing hot, not slacking off behind some cloud somewhere. Just pleasant. Aofil seats themselves in one of their sun chairs that’s resting silently on the patio fence. A whir starts underneath them.

“Don’t,” they state firmly as to keep it silent. The whir dies off with a whimper, but Aofil’s desensitized to it enough now that they pay it no mind. Would be nice if they could detach the magical gizmo so that they wouldn’t have to tell it to stop every single time, but for some weird reasons monster screws feature a different head than human ones.

The gizmo is also structurally integral, so even if Aofil had the right head they would be wrong in their own head if they were to remove it.

And programming the gizmo to be opt in instead of opt out takes quite a bit of time to program, according to Alphys, according to Undyne.

Aofil has learned by now not to use them when playing poker with the monsters. At least after they struggled out of their chair after folding a bad hand.

Which they’re sure is also a major reason as to why Undyne seems so keen not to have Alphys start with the reprogramming. 

Still to this day they keep finding new things that Alphys tinkered with inside their house. Yesterday it was the fire fork, and today was one of their books! Aofil has been trying to figure out when she did it. When she found the time to install all these magical enhancements. Be it when she moved their house to Monster City, or was it before? Maybe she has one machine that does it all for her? Aofil don’t know, and it’s annoying them, which in turn worries the stuff in their house, which in turn annoys Aofil further! They just have to catch her alone without Undyne nearby to wave it off and wink audibly.

“Why do you want to ruin the surprises you get every single morning, Aofil?” she always asks with a plastered grin that’s brimming with mischief.

And speaking of Undyne.

“Morning, Aofil!” she yells from her yard with her hand waving like she’s impersonating a windscreen wiper. Aofil waves back to her, as if cleaning away what the wiper missed. “Wanna work out after breakfast?” she asks while rolling her shoulder.

Not usual of her to actually ask. Most of the time...All the time, it’s more of a firm statement that’s been set in stone because she carved it in with a spear of hers. Normally with some anticipated laughing accompanying the grinding sound of her magic chiseling stone.

So why ask now? Does she have something planned? Well, something more planned? The curiosity is pulling at Aofil, but they have a few other things pulling the other way this morning.

A couple of loose planks and the such sit rather askew from when Aofil’s house walked over to the lot it’s currently sitting on. The lawn has just now started to set around it, and it’s already been a handful of weeks now. A very busy handful of weeks.

Not only to get through the day while being startled constantly by more and more appliances and, what would be in any other house, common household objects sprouting legs and bouncing with excitement at the prospect of being used. Each startled blurb from Aofil awoke another, so they gasped again, and so, and so on.

The drop was when Aofil would wake up with half their kitchen bouncing eagerly on their bed, with a drop of hot tea crashing against their forehead.

And then their bed would lean over worryingly when they flew out of it screaming and flailing for their life.

“It woke you right up, right?” was the explanation Undyne offered in Alphys’ stead, along with a healthy laugh. So much so that she lost her breath. 

“Sleep in the bed you made, ey Undyne?”

Is what Aofil figured out they should’ve said the day after as they showered Their loud curse and dragged out sigh summoned every pair of pink robotic legs within earshot distance. 

Which meant every single object in their house.

And also their house.

Suddenly Aofil was on the wall. The temperature gauge flicked to the coldest setting as Aofil fell on it, which didn’t really help the situation. Fortunately for Aofil, their startled “Stop!” was just as loud as their dramatic lament, and the house resettled. Not without bending a few more planks out of order. Even a few at the front of the house! 

“Don’t be alarmed by magic,” advises tip number eight. “If you’re not familiar with magic, suddenly being surrounded by it might be strange at first. Unsettling, even. However, keep in mind that magic between monsters can be as strange as magic between monsters and humans. You will get used to it, and there are programs available in Monster City to help ease you, should you feel the need.”

Aofil wonders if they should call an ambulance on the account that Mister Lister hit his head right on the nail there.

And speaking of nails, Aofil should probably look around the house to see if there exists a package after breakfast.

“Aofil! An answer?”

Oh yeah, Undyne’s still waving, albeit a bit more perplexed now. Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder towards the loose planks at the foundation of their house.

“Not today, sorry!” Aofil shouts back. “Need to fix up some planks that were ripped up.”

“I can help with that!” comes an eager answer. “I don’t have a lot on the agenda today either! Besides working out and finally finishing season three of Mew Mew with Alphee, that is!”

“Sounds like you got the day fully booked then!”

A spear fizzles out just before crossing into Aofil’s lawn. “You want my help or not?”

Why not? Aofil could use an extra pair of hands. “I’m just gonna finish my breakfast then!”

“Call me over!” Undyne shouts as she drags a bench along with some dumbbells out from her shed.

“Will do! Don’t tire yourself out though!”

“Ha!” she scoffs loudly, almost shattering the windows on her house. “As if!”

Aofil returns to their breakfast. They pick up their spoon to indulge in their bowl of cereal. The spoon whirs excitingly, and Aofil sighs with equal magnitude of tiredness.

“Bring me a normal one,” they ask of their spoon before gently tossing it through the opened kitchen window. They hold out their hand as they wait for their delivery. After some rustling from inside the kitchen, the motorized spoon brings Aofil one that won’t shake the milk out of it from its eagerness to serve.

Aofil still tests it, just to be sure. “I’m very hungry,” they say. The spoon in their hand stays still, but the one now beside them starts jumping for joy.

“The dishes, please,” Aofil wishes to the eager spoon. “Work some of that excess energy off you.”

It’s not all downsides with having an army of things that do your bidding, Aofil can admit as much. They haven’t done dishes or laundry the entire time they’ve been here! It’s even better than when Aofil would do those chores themselves. So for as much as they can sigh heavily at waking up to a kettle dropping hot tea on them in their bed, they can sigh with relief as they see their house and clothes cleaned without hassle.

Not that Aofil would let Alphys, or Undyne for that matter, know about that.

“Monsters are social creatures,” tip number nine states. “Some are still adapting to having space to stretch out their limbs, and social boundaries. It’s advisable to show how comfortable you are as early as possible, more so than with humans.”

What has happened with Mister Lister? Has he been following Aofil around, or something? He seems to have moved to Monster City as well, judging by his short bio at the bottom of the list. Whether or not he’s doing double duty for human and monster papers, producing list upon list as diligent as ever, if not more, that Aofil can only guess at. He’s definitely gotten better though, that much Aofil can give him.

Along with a round of applause for being correct for the first time, at least for Aofil. It’s nice to see him doing well for himself. Another human that’s found help in Monster City.

Aofil taps their finger for a while on the paper before folding it aside them. They didn’t really plan to remind themselves this early in the morning. It’s not a lot, but it’s like the lonely cloud in the distance. Just a small one, Aofil’s pinky finger is enough to completely block it. 

It’s there though. 

It’s because of it that it is not a cloudless day. Not enough that it should cause any worry for rain, but still does. Still makes Aofil aware that it is there, even though they’re fully aware that it won’t be pouring like the Waterfall anytime soon.

But as Aofil lift up their pinky finger to cover the white stain on the blue canvas that is the sky, they replace one fluffy white phenomena in their field of view with another fluffy white phenomena.

Aofil blows a small speck of black, something, out of their fur. Finishing off with a glancing brush.

Soft as always, happily bright as always, warm as always.

There as always.

Aofil concludes that they don’t need to groom it more at the moment. When they return their arm to scooping cereal, they think they see the cloud getting just a little bit larger.

But not in a way that would have them seek shelter. Not in a way that would have them reach for an umbrella, not even a pout because the paint they’re about to apply might drip away.

Aofil’s started on that journey now. Started walking away from all that. The first step was hard, unbelievably hard, but they’re on their way now.

They’ve no idea when they’ll reach the end, if there even is an end.

But they know that they have friends that will help them, even if they’ll never reach it.

Now that Aofil’s discovered that they’re done with their breakfast, why not wave one of them over?

“Just gonna brush my teeth and then I’ll get going on the planks!” Aofil informs Undyne with a quick shout.

“Just! One! More! Set!” she answers before hauling an irresponsibly amount of plates over her chest.

Aofil leaves her to her grunting as they head inside with their bowl. They slid it into the water filled sink where it’s taken care of by the animate spoon. Aofil then heads up the stairs into the upstairs bathroom where they make sure to take the toothbrush that won’t extend an arm to brush their tongue without them asking.

With the, only, hand powered brush in their mouth, Aofil fetches some old clothes from an adjacent room. They scour through some striped clothing, stopping short to think if they should donate them all away since they’re child sized.

To a city far away where none of the Dreemurrs have a chance to find a child wearing it is probably the safest bet. Aofil will look into that later though, it’s not a priority. The sweaters have been there for a while without any problems, so what is a little while longer?

Aofil finally spots an old and weathered long sleeved shirt that stretches over their fur. Peeling paint off skin is a chore, so getting it out of fur must be a nightmare. Some equally weathered jeans that are not really their fit are excavated as well. Quite loose, must’ve been their dad’s old pair. Dots of old and dried paint litter the trousers, so if anything Aofil is keeping up tradition with them.

Should they get some clothes for Undyne as well? Does paint stick to her scales as badly as it does skin? Better safe than sorry, Aofil concludes. Worst case scenario is her not wearing, and Aofil’s pretty sure they can live with that.

Will she wear an old shirt with the slogan “Mt. Ebott Monster Mania” though? An old Halloween souvenir. Aofil’s quite surprised that either their mom or their dad bought one, considering all that happened. The date on the shirt is a handful of years after Chara fell, so maybe they were over it enough by that time? 

It doesn’t look used though, as if only bought, and immediately discarded at the bottom of this casket of clothes.

Anyways, Undyne will have to be the judge whether or not she wants to wear it. Another pair of stained jeans as well.

With their teeth freshly cleaned, Aofil whistles down the stairs, and out their patio door. Undyne is already there, stretching while she waits.

“’Sup, Aof!” she greets with her arms bent as far over and behind her head as possible. “Enjoying the show?”

“Why don’t you take it off?”

Her head snaps forward. “What?”

“So that you don’t stain your gym clothes,” Aofil adds. They bounce the shirt and jeans in their arms. “Paint is annoying to clean off.”

“Ah!” she exhales with relief. “I though you were-”

“Yes,” Aofil confirms as they hand over Undyne’s clothes. “I phrased it like that because I wanted to see your reaction.”

Undyne chuckles. “You wish.”

It’s only after a couple of steps when Undyne notices the slogan on her shirt. The jeans Aofil brought her are a bit too long for her, and she almost immediately stumbles forwards. While bending down to roll up the excess pants over her ankles, she catches glimpse of the words on her torso.

“Monster Mania?” she reads out loud with her brow lowered. “When did you buy this, Aofil?”

“My parents did. I think it has something to do with a Halloween event. What with the pumpkin in the middle of the circle.”

Undyne bends her head around as she tries to get a better look at it. “Mt. Ebott Monster Mania!” she reads again, now with her brow extended almost as high as her head. “What was it about?”

Aofil wonders if they should let her have this one. She sounds so excited about it! Although, if she finds out…

“Don’t know,” they answer her. “Was nothing to do with you though, I’m afraid. Probably just some generic slogan for some generic Halloween event.”

“I see.”

Ouch, that stings. Her disappointed sigh of an acknowledgment cuts through Aofil like an icy gust. They know something that will cheer her up though. “Can you summon a saw with your magic? Don’t think the teeth of mine are that sharp. Haven’t sharpened them in a while.”

Undyne’s smile expose a set of very sharp teeth clenched in excitement. “Sure can!” She flexes her wrist towards Aofil, and a cyan saw is thrown to them. Aofil catches the handle, and steps out of the way as it swings like a pendulum towards their body. Once they have it under control, Aofil taps one of the teeth on the crackling saw. It pricks their finger, but not enough to draw blood.

“Nice!” they complement.

“You expected something less?” comes a reply sent with a healthy amount of snark. Like this?

The saw shrinks into a butter knife, and Undyne chuckles to herself.

“What good is all your training for if you can’t even maintain a saw with your magic, Undyne?” Aofil wonders with the knife pointing accusingly towards Undyne. “Looks like you’ve been slacking!”

Undyne folds her arms over her chest. “Is that so, human?” she asks with a challenging grin stretching across her face. “I could summon a hundred saws and not even feel it! The only reason I am not is because you,” Undyne forms a spear in her hand that she uses to tap Aofil on their chest, “couldn’t handle it. You only have two arms, human.”

“A hundred?” Aofil blurts out. They can’t believe that!

“Yup!”

So few? “Only a hundred?”

“Alright!” Undyne throws her arm out, and after a very dramatic and over the top implosion of energy that sends out a shock wave that knocks some dandruff out of Aofil’s hair, a bright blue saw with an almost uncountable amount of teeth takes root in Undyne’s hand. She spins it around her finger while clenching her other fist before her. “Show me where those planks are, human! I will make them into toothpicks.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, actually.”

Undyne drops her shoulders and she exhales an annoyed grunt with her head bent backwards. “Why, Aofil?”

“And also, the teeth on your saw are gonna slice instead of saw through the wood if they’re so many and so small.”

Undyne complies, reluctantly, and her saw changes its smile akin to hers as she walks over to the pile of planks next to Aofil’s patio. “How big?”

“I’ve already measured one up, so if you could do the others in the same length that would be great. If you do them all in one swoop I’ll be impressed.”

Undyne scoffs as she starts to pile the planks up on each other. “You’re very easily impressed, you know that?”

“Big talk coming from someone who hasn’t done what she boasts that she can do!”

A loud, violent, almost grotesque sound, emerges from Undyne putting her summoned saw at the top of the pile of planks, and forcing it through them all with one rapid swoop of her arm. A smell of smoke hits Aofil’s nose, and they turn around to see Undyne reaching her arm into the kitchen window.

“Let go!” she commands the spoon fighting desperately to keep a pot filled with foaming water inside the house. She swats the spoon away with the back of her hand, and hurries back with the half cleaned pot in her hands to the tower of planks.

“Did they catch fire?” Aofil asks while making their way around to the short end where Undyne’s squatted down at.

“Nope!” she informs quickly. No need for Aofil to see. Not at all! She deliberately takes the other way around the planks so that she accidentally bumps into Aofil with the pot.

“It smelt like burning, Undyne.”

“I wouldn’t know!” she laughs while tapping where her nose should be if she had one.

With a quick throw of their finger, Aofil indicates towards the spoon in the window staring viciously should it have eyes. “And you’ve upset my spoon.”

“Eh!” Undyne blows her lips and shakes her head at that, frankly, incredibly silly notion. “It doesn’t have emotions.”

“You keep saying that,” Aofil follows Undyne with their eyes as she dumps the pot back into the sink with a splash, “yet, I keep finding more and more reasons stating the complete opposite!”

Undyne whipping her head around knocks the spoon into the sink as well as it’s hit by her hair. “Ngahahaha! You’re kidding, right? If that’s so, then what would you reckon your house would do if I told it off?”

Undyne gives the foundation of Aofil’s house a kick. “Hey!” she yells to it while knocking hard at its wall with her fist. “Your corners look they were made out of cheap plastic!”

The intro theme to Mew Mew season one startles Alphys out of her concentration. She reaches over to answer. “Alphys here!”

She immediately recoils the phone from her ear as loud yelling and even louder creeks of wood almost blast her head off.

“Alphys,” says Aofil while trying their best at reducing the battle behind them, “Undyne angered my house, what’s the emergency shutdown that you promised to tell me yet never did?”

“...”

“I’m serious, Alphys!”

“Y-you have to follow your shut down command with ‘please, and very much thank you’ for it to shut down.”

Aofil disconnects the call.

“Shut down, please, and very much thank you!” they shout…at...their...house.

Oh god dammit…

Undyne turns around sheepishly as the house settles down into the ground. She taps her knuckle against her lip for a minute or so before finally speaking. “I’ll admit that it was partly me to blame-”

“Partly?”

“Yes...a big part,” she agrees while scratching the back of her head. “But, maybe you should’ve asked it to turn back around before saying that, Aofil?”


	122. Finally talking

A couple of reserved knocks make it through the wood of Aofil’s front...back door, and they sigh deeply as they sit on the lowest step. “Come out,” they invite the knocker.

“Hello, Aofil. Your house.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Aofil replies without turning around to meet their guest.

Another pair of legs join Aofil in swinging over the meter high drop down to the disturbed grass lawn.

“You could’ve just walked around, you know?”

“Undyne asked me to bring back your umbrella.”

“Did she now?” Now isn’t that interesting.

“I guessed as much when she asked me if I were on my way to your house when I passed hers. I wasn’t at the time, but with her being as subtle with her intentions as she is green, and with her tossing your umbrella to me, I reckoned she wanted me to get over here.”

“Thing is,” Aofil says as they lean back on the stairs, “she hasn’t borrowed an umbrella from me. Not for now, that is.”

“I see...”

“You could always say that you were curious, Frisk. No need to lie.”

Frisk sighs while averting their head. “Yeah, sorry.”

The two humans sit in silence for a minute. Taking in the warmth of the sun together.

“Undyne is the reason for this, by the way, so you weren’t that off,” Aofil informs with a quick tilt of their head. “You want something, perhaps? I’m feeling a bit thirsty. Been sitting here for a while now. It’s not as comfortable as my sun chairs, but...”

“Have you?” Frisk shifts their head back. “Why?”

“Because tip number eight,” Aofil says as they carefully stand up. “And because this feels normal to me. Which is the complete opposite of normal.” They meet Frisk’s slightly perplexed face. “So, you want anything?”

“Yeah...” stumbles out of Frisk’s mouth. “Sure, do you have some tea?”

“Golden Flower?”

“Golden Flower.”

“I have some snail pie leftovers from the latest poker game. You want a slice?”

“Yes, actually.”

It just keeps getting more interesting. “Yes?” The perplexity is siphoned from Frisk to Aofil. “You eat snails now, Frisk?”

“I can stomach them by now, yeah,” Frisk admits with some pride slinking through. Aofil notices their eyes almost opening slightly. They kinda want them to, perhaps…

“No.”

The perplexity again move faces. “What?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Nothing, sorry. Tea and pie, right?”

Frisk gives Aofil a nod. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Be back in a bit then.”

Aofil can’t help but feel a bit like a stranger in their own house as they make their way through it towards the kitchen. Some of it stemming from the awkward angle they have to walk through it to counter the more awkward angle the house is leaning on. Mostly though is the silence. No excited whirring of motors as Aofil passes nearby objects dangerously close to falling off. No clanking of porcelain, which runs a cold chill up Aofil’s spine. They might have to do their own dishes instead of their own dishes doing their own dishes!

Laundry as well! It’s been months! Aofil’s not even sure if the washing machine will even work now!

“Stove,” Aofil addresses as they enter the kitchen. “Dammit,” they realize a second after as a whole lot of nothing happens, as it would a normal house. A normal house that’s not tilting on their own axis, that is.

While walking as if their inner ear has been tinkered with by a wildly dancing doctor, Aofil guides themselves with the help of the edge of their sink. They very carefully open a cupboard door slightly ajar, and steals their old kettle before gravity can get a grip on the things lodged behind it.

They indulge themselves in some pride as they manage to open an overhead cupboard just enough to just have two packets of Golden Flower tea slip out and land in their hand. It is drained almost instantly after as Aofil misjudges the angle of the water coming out of their faucet. A cold handful of it lands on Aofil’s chest, and they flinch from the impact. The fresh stains of red paint on their shirt slip down a couple of centimeters, but they don’t loosen enough to drop down and stain the kitchen floor.

“Huh,” Aofil thinks out loud after succeeding to fill the kettle in their hand. How are they gonna keep the kettle from sliding off the stove? It’s a bit magnetic, but not strong enough to hold a full kettle. Their eyes move over to the spoon frozen with its legs wrapped around a glass. Carefully Aofil straightens out the legs of the spoon. They tap it a couple of times against the surface of the sink. The legs don’t bend, so Aofil props the spoon between the kettle and the lip of the front of the stove used to catch liquid.

They release it carefully. It looks to be holding, “Nice!” so Aofil puts the heat on. On the wrong plate. Luckily they notice, and rectify the mistake. Been a while since they turned that knob.

Now, how the hell are they gonna fetch the pie without having everything else spill out of the refrigerator?

A great question that deserves a great answer! Unfortunately, that answer is nowhere to be found. Aofil sees the suction keeping the rubber edge of the door struggling with all its might. Aofil shouldn’t even breath on it as it might be enough to have the door be flung open and its content fly out and make a very interesting omelet on the opposite wall. Something Papyrus would make if he had any interest in eggs outside of making pasta.

“You think you can manage without the pie, Frisk?” Aofil asks through the house. “The fridge is on the verge of puking so I don’t want to upset it.”

“Did you have to use those exact words?” comes a very bewildered reply. “Yes, I can manage without.”

Another great question without a great answer. Might be because of Aofil’s relation to snails that they said it that way. They can stomach a lot, but they can’t stomach saying no to Toriel offering Aofil to take some home. Snail pie though, that’s where their stomach churns like a very enthusiastic milk maiden.

It’s the first and last time Asgore gets the best of them at poker. He was pretty much busted, but he could offer some snail pie as a stand in. Aofil wouldn’t turn down that, right? They very much enjoy snail pie, isn’t that what they tell Toriel all the time?

“Bad poker face, my ass!” Aofil angrily mumbles to themselves.

And now they can’t get rid of some since it would mean getting rid of everything else in their fridge!

Did Chara like snail pie?

Oh for- 

There it is again!

Twice now Aofil has drawn parallels to Chara. First Frisk opening their eye to show no red iris like Aofil, even for just a peek. Maybe it was there, but Aofil didn’t pick up on it? Dammit, why are they still giving the thoughts the time of day?

Chara’s gone, Frisk said as much. They can talk to Aofil now, ain’t that evidence enough? They don’t get a headache from Chara reacting violently, ain’t that enough to convince Aofil?

Apparently not.

But why would Aofil care? Chara was never a part of their life. They said as much to each other. They’ve talked it out with the Dreemurrs, that chapter should be closed by now. 

Are they hoping that Chara’s still alive? Aofil feels around inside themselves. No, not really. They don’t really feel anything about it all. Could be their injury that caused them to forget, but what if they didn’t?

No! That’s done with! Leave it behind! Chara was Aofil’s twin in birth only, not in life. Aofil lived theirs, Chara lived theirs. The gods will know, Aofil and Chara are as different as night and day!

Except for all the parts where they’re the same.

Face, hair, voice, eyes, cheeks, relationship with the monsters, sorta, partly to blame for killing all the monsters, partly to be praised for saving the monsters.

Aofil looks down at their arm.

Fusing with Asriel?

Same same, but different. Chara ended in death, Aofil ended in life. That’s where the road splits, that’s where Aofil and Chara become different.

Even if their intentions were the complete opposite, Chara resulted in death, and Aofil ended in life. If the first reset is to be based on, that is. How many times have Aofil been a Boss Monster now? Twice? Again, if the first reset is to be counted. Aofil’s pretty damn sure they weren’t really an almost carbon copy of Asriel when it happened, but that’s how they experienced it, so it still counts.

And how many times are they gonna become one in the future?

Hopefully zero times. They’ve already transformed twice, and that’s twice too many..

Aofil hazards a guess that Chara would be in the other party about that. After all, distancing themselves from humanity was the entire point of them running away.

Does Frisk want to? Aofil hasn’t seen any indication of it. Although, Frisk was very touchy touchy with Aofil when they were fused with Asriel. Same thing with the fur on Aofil’s arm. Enough of a suspicion to ask Frisk about it?

Enough of a suspicion to ask Frisk about Chara?

Enough of a suspicion to-

The kettle whistles loudly, and Aofil hurries over to catch it as they see the spoon starting to glide to the side from the vibration.

Close one.

After almost dropping the cups as they come gliding out of the angled cupboard Aofil props them up on a serving tray with the spoon acting as a balance to keep it level. Carefully they fill up the cups with water and add the tea.

“Don’t have anything for you to place it on, unfortunately,” Aofil apologizes as they lower the tray down for Frisk to take a cup. “Well, I have, but it’s behind an amount of metal pots that could probably make up another Mettaton.”

“You have pink cooking vessels?” Frisk asks as they slurp the tea after almost coughing. “Why?”

Aofil throws a thumb over to the side. “Fish and lizard were so kind to stock the equipment as they moved my house. Told me they got a ticket for a parking violation. The officer had dropped it in my mailbox, apparently. On the plus side, my house has a registration plate and is allowed to travel the highway.”

Frisk tilts their head inwards the house. “Is that why there was a seat belt on one of your armchairs?”

“Yup!” Aofil answers as they sample the tea. “Regulations require that.”

“For a house?”

“Imagine how I feel if this makes you this confused, Frisk. I have to pay vehicle tax on top of everything else.”

“Wow!” Frisk can barely stop blinking. 

“Luckily Asgore has asked ML to snoop around for some sort of loophole. Maybe I can legally call it a mobile home now? Not sure, but ML has had weirder cases, Asgore informed me. As long as he hands me the documents with his tail instead of his mouth I’m all good.”

Frisk caresses their cup while staring across the yards over to the very anime looking house. “You know, Aofil?”

“Hm?” Aofil answers with their mouth covered by their tea.

“Sometimes even I’m taken by surprise by the monsters.”

Aofil nods. “Never a quiet day with them around. For better,” Aofil taps the wall with the back of their fist, “and for worse.”

“Are they gonna fix this?”

“Alphys is doing some programming according to my specifications.”

Frisk nods once. “Very loud specifications?”

“Only when Undyne’s around,” Aofil adds with a shrug. “I love them both with my entire heart, but sometimes...” Aofil blows their lips tiredly. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“They’ve gotten you hooked on some of their shows?” Frisk pries with a friendly chuckle.

“Oh yeah! That too! You try and say no to the two of them! I can handle one at a time, but both at the same time? It’s like saying no to Toriel when she flips on her mother mood.”

Frisk leans back on the gray staircase. “You tell me. Try living with her.”

“Why don’t you have some more, Aofil?” Aofil asks themselves while mimicking Toriel’s soft voice. They cough as it takes a toll on their throat, summoning a snicker from Frisk. “You’ve only had three plates, aren’t you hungry?”

“I was, Toriel,” Aofil answers themselves with their own voice, “but-”

“You didn’t like it?” Toriel again asks with Aofil’s mouth. “Was it not to your preference?”

“No, that’s why I only had three plates, Toriel! God!”

Frisk bends over in a fit of laughter. Aofil helps them endure it by taking Frisk’s cup in their free one. 

“Judging by that I’m guessing you’re spared that, Frisk.”

“No, it’s-” Frisk interrupts themselves with a snortle. “It’s not that. It reminded me of something, that’s all. Something she did with Asriel and me a couple of years after you...”

Their laugh dies off.

Aofil hands them back their cup. “I’m here now,” they feel the need to say.

“You are. Just need some time to have it set in.”

“Guess we all need to. Hopefully Undyne will calm down a bit and get used to me being around. The novelty outta wear off someday, right?”

Frisk avoids Aofil’s eyes while slurping loudly on their tea.

“No?” Aofil asks.

“No,” Frisk answer through clenched teeth. “Hasn’t happened with me yet. Don’t think it ever will. Although maybe not to the extent of your house. She’d have to answer to mom if she angled our house, and I from what I’ve reckoned with her all these years she’d rather not go toe to toe with a Boss Monster. Spar? Absolutely. Toe to toe because she almost set fire to the kitchen? No.” 

“You say that like it’s happened before,” Aofil remarks before throwing a look over their shoulder towards the pink and yellow house a few lawns up the road. “How many houses has she burned down now? I vaguely remember you writing down to me that she torched her house in the Underground as well as the first one at Mt. Ebott.”

“Just those two as much as I’m aware. Don’t know exactly how many she did before I fell down.”

“She told me you did it,” Aofil accuses lightly as they turn their head back to the child next to them. “She’s also probably gonna say that I did this to my own house in the future, so I’m not that keen to believe her a hundred percent.”

“I helped her cook,” Frisk admits with a shrug. “It was a team effort, really. Papyrus set us up with a date, and-”

“Date?” Aofil interrupts before they can think of halting themselves.

“Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, maybe Sans,” Frisk counts on their fingers. “Mettaton?”

“Was that before or after he tried to saw you in two?”

“Good question. Can’t really tell which one of the things he did that he classifies as a date. Muffet...”

Frisk moves their eyes over to Aofil.

“Mettaton set us up,” they answer before drinking some tea. “We haven’t gone on one since then, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Do you want to?”

“Haven’t given it any thought.”

“Fair enough. She asks for you when I visit though.”

Uh oh. “How do you mean?”

“Well, mainly she mutters about giving you free doughnuts. She sounds a bit upset about it. Whether she’s angry because you’ve managed to find a way to get them for free, or she’s angry because she hasn’t had a chance to give you more, that I can’t tell. You’ll have to ask her that yourself.”

“You’d like that very much, now wouldn’t you?”

Frisk tilts their head from side to side while shrugging. “I guess. If I got nothing else to do.”

“Mhm? Is that so?”

“Yes, actually.”

The two humans trade hard glances for a split second before their facades melt away into friendly chuckles. They both drink some refreshing tea in unison, and exhale the ballad of flavor into a joint cloud that hangs quietly above them.

“You still remember how to do one on your own?” Aofil asks curiously as they observe the tea cloud dispersing. “Or is that childish to you now?”

“Wouldn’t say childish,” Frisk answers as they search their mind while taking a short sip. “More like, haven’t had any reason to do it. Can’t really build a hobby around blowing clouds with your mouth.”

“Fair enough.” Aofil didn’t really expect it to be any more than that. “So what hobbies have you built then, Frisk? Asriel’s pretty good with the guitar, I’ve heard. Both heard from others, and from himself. He seems fairly interested in astronomy as well. I think I remember seeing a telescope in his room after I woke up from the Memory Box.”

“Mostly the same with me. He’s my brother, so we have the same things.” Frisk rolls their shoulder in discomfort, as I’ve they’ve struck a nerve on themselves. “Well, I say same and same.”

“No horn polish, no fur ointment?” Aofil hazards a guess.

Frisk involuntarily looks over to Aofil’s arm. They retract their eyes immediately after, but it’s enough for Aofil to notice.

Now that they have the chance to, should they really ask? Frisk seems embarrassed about it. Although, maybe they do want to talk about it, but can’t, not unless Aofil asks about it. Frisk is staring into their tea, rubbing the edges of it nervously. They tilt their head quietly from side to side, sighing loudly.

“Been a lot around monsters?” Aofil asks carefully. “Have had them around you for the majority of your life almost?”

Weak nod.

“Have you given it any thought before now?”

Frisk meets Aofil’s eye to make sure Aofil isn’t hiding any smiles. Aofil’s as serious as they can be, and Frisk returns to looking at their own reflection. “Yeah.”

Alright then. “I see.”

“Does that make me weird?” Frisk wonders, conflicted. “Humans are so much better than monsters, so why would I want to be one? Is it even possible? Would it hurt? Am I a freak for even thinking of it? What would mom and dad think if I told them? What would Asriel think?”

Frisk shifts their pleading eyes up to Aofil. “What do you think?”

“I...” Aofil let’s the letter peter out as they can’t figure out what to say really. “I don’t know. Are you seriously thinking about doing it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Frisk answers, but not satisfactory to themselves. “I guess I have to see if it’s even possible to begin with, but if I do that I’ve already chosen, because why else would I want to research it?”

Frisk sighs, heavily. So much so that they almost slip of the raised staircase. Aofil tugs at Frisk’s sweater to make them aware of it. Frisk shuffles up the stairs as another tired exhale slips out of them. “So what would you want to be if you chose?” Aofil asks, catching themselves by surprise how much they sincerely want to hear the answer. “Like your family? You think you’d be the same color?”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it...” Frisk whispers to the side.

“Oh, sorry,” Aofil says as it’s clearly a sensitive nerve for Frisk. Especially with them now grabbing their chest.

“Did it hurt for you?” Frisk asks a bit more louder.

“Do you want to drop the subject, or not, Frisk? You’re sending mixed signals here.”

Frisk again tightens their grip on the porcelain cup. “Sorry, I-” They pinch the bridge of their nose as they try and calm themselves with some deep breaths. It’s not as effective as they would want.

“Hey now,” Aofil gives a reassuring pat on Frisk’s back, “if you want to talk about then I’ll talk about it with you. I can’t say that it’s an incredible pleasant experience though, I’m afraid. I’m hazarding a guess that if you should try and do it you’d have a more safer way of doing it. I’m a bit taken back by you bringing it up, you know? It’s a big decision.”

Frisk nods.

“I’m desensitized enough that I think that it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility. It would be downgrading of a sort, right? Human soul turning into a monster soul?”

“Still no idea...”

“Hey, how about we talk about something else?” Aofil suggest. They punctuate with a final soft pat on Frisk’s back. “Why did you come here for? Just wondering about the house?”

“Well,” Frisk shakes their head, “not really. You see, it’s my birthday in a bit.”

“It is?” Aofil had no idea. “Congratula-”

“No.”

No?

“I don’t want it to happen.”

Well now...


	123. Tangentially related

“Gotta have to unpack that a bit for me there, Frisk.”

Frisk looks into their cup. A weary sigh is sent into it, causing the small puddle of tea left to climb up the porcelain walls only to slowly be dragged back down into the same puddle as it started off as.

“You want more tea?” Aofil asks as they prepare to stand up.

An audible slurp later, and a final shake to get the last drops out, Frisk shakes their head. “Nah, it’s not that. If I drink more I’m sure I’ll need to use the bathroom in a bit. I don’t want to be desperate enough to try and use your slanted toilet. No offense.”

“None taken, and fair enough. Already dreading doing that myself.” Aofil gives an acknowledging nod while letting their legs down the edge of the stairs again. “So, birthday? And you not wanting it?”

“Nope, not in the slightest. We’re having a pretty large test the day before, and I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna get any sleep that week because of those two events. The test is fine, that I can study for, but the day after, that’s the thing that’s out of my control, I feel. Not that I can tell mom or dad, or even Asriel about it. They’re the ones I suspect are planning for it. Mom and dad the most, but I’m pretty sure Asriel has a claw of his own in there somewhere. I can’t just walk up to them and have them cancel my birthday. Would be too difficult to explain.”

“Okay?” 

“It’s not that I’m dreading the day, but I don’t feel that I want it over and done with, you know? The monsters can exhaust you in ways you never thought you’d have to catch your breath on. One of those would be me having to explain why I can’t be excited for my own birthday. It’s gonna bring up more question than just ‘Why not?’ and you know what it means when more question are brought up, Aofil.”

“I’m well aware.” Aofil states with a smack on their lips. “I still think that you should at least try and talk with them. I know I’m the last person to give that advice, but I’m still gonna give it. Any reason you feel like you can’t talk with them?”

A quick and stern nod Frisk gives. “Yeah.”

What follows is silence. For a minute it’s silent as neither humans say anything. Frisk swirls their cup. Aofil sits still, narrowing their eyes more and more with each passing second. “A very serious reason, I’m guessing,” they feel the need to ask before they close their eyes completely.

“Yup,” Frisk answers with a sigh through their lips and a quick tilt of their head. A heavies sigh escapes through their teeth, so much so that they again put up their cup to refresh the dryness that the sigh created in their mouth. Aofil hands over their half empty one to replace Frisk’s completely empty one. They take it with a small nod, and dry the rim of with their striped shirt. Aofil knows that they shouldn’t feel malice from that, but they still do, just a little. Their curiosity overwhelms the petty anger though, and they don’t raise the word. Frisk lets the tea slosh around in their mouth, shifting the liquid from cheek to cheek. As they swallow it they let out a small cough. “Very.”

“Are you gonna tell me it?” Aofil asks before turning their head towards the houses up the street. “Is it about the monsters?”

“Yes,” Frisk blows their lips tiredly, “and no.” They look around for a place to place their empty cup, and Aofil offers their now empty hand as a holder.

“No is a surprise to hear,” Aofil admits while drumming on Frisk’s cup with their knuckles. It not being because of the monsters? Now that might be really serious. “Why no? Besides Undyne, Papyrus, Alphys, etc. whipping up some crazy birthday plan involving them turning into humans or something? Because then I could understand your hesitation.”

Frisk looks over the horizon in the direction of Mt. Ebott. It’s just a small silhouette, almost blending in with the treetops of the nearby forest. It’s clear for both Frisk and Aofil which one of the spiky tops is Mt. Ebott though. It’s the one that sends a smorgasbord of emotions throughout their very soul. Frisk seems to be biting into a very sour treat they picked up from said table, as their face scrunches up into a conflicted expression filled with...regret? “I think it has something to do with the orphanage,” they say into the wind that carries the words over to Aofil.

Be it the chilling gust blowing around them, or be it the words, Aofil’s brow sinks deep.

Oh...that says it all, really. Aofil taps hard on their cup while breathing through their clenched teeth. That really says it all. But...already? Already? Aofil was away for a while, yes, but so long? Yes...yes they were. But surely? “You think?” they ask with a smile, but with a reserved voice.

“I heard mom talk about it when she thought I couldn’t hear. Something about my age. To tell you the truth, Aofil, I don’t know when I was born,” Frisk admits while their hands grasp their cup tighter. “I’ve tried, but I can’t find a record. I don’t even know if Frisk is my real name. You’d think someone with my skin color would be rather easy to find a record of, but here I am, just as clueless as you are, Aofil. Not even with the strings dad can pull. I was just a number among many. Just a kid with the most tired of resting faces. Mt. Ebott’s legend sounded like something that would make me something, you know? Because before that I was...”

Frisk sighs as their head finds the tiniest comfort in their hand. “Nothing. I was nothing. Dumped at the orphanage for reasons unknown, by parents unknown. Hell, I don’t even know if it even was my parents that put me there! Who would care if I disappeared? No one! Some of the kids that fell before me were also from that orphanage, but I guess administration got the better of them and they just chalked them up to being adopted or something! Otherwise I might’ve had second thoughts, maybe. The only one suspecting foul play was the pastor, and that I figured out after the fact during the trial. And not even he could help me.”

Aofil gives Frisk a couple of seconds to collect themselves. “You have a family now, Frisk,” they feel a need to remind Frisk. “You’re a savior and you have a wonderful family and wonderful friends who all have hope for you, and who you give hope for. It’s over now, it’s in the past.”

As if Aofil has any credence to say that...

A careful nod is given by Frisk. “I know...I know. It’s that damn orphanage though. Just an awful place altogether. It tries, it tries so hard. It did all it could to give us kids somewhat of an existence, but I can’t think back on it in a bright light. However I do, how much I try to see it from different angles, try and put myself in their shoes, I just can’t. I hate that place. With all my soul, with all my heart, I hate it. I want mom and dad to burn it to the ground and I want Undyne and Papyrus to salt the ground worse than their cooking. I want to spit on it. I want to give Asriel my soul so that we can lay waste to its existence in this reality and all other possible ones.”

“Wow...” Aofil’s stunned. “If...If anything I now know where you get your energy from when exercising with Undyne. You’re not actually thinking about doing it though?”

“The hope of the Surface, the angel that stayed their hand to befriend an Underground filled with monsters that wanted them dead to use their soul to slaughter humanity wants to spit on a pile of rubble that was the place that fed them for the worst years of their life. I won’t do it, it would crush everything we’ve done. I’ll work it out on the weights though, and not on the building. If Asriel can, then so can I.”

Every single word of that. The vile poison seeping out of Frisk’s mouth as they speak that. Aofil knows that, it’s the same vicious tongue they used to talk about the monsters not so long ago. To think, Frisk, of all people...

“Not the best place for a kid?” Aofil offers to try and break the tension.

“Fuck you think I ran up the mountain for?” Frisk shoots back viciously with their forearm thrown up and their fingers bent in question.

Aofil puts up a calming hand. “Right, sorry. Didn’t mean for it to sound like that. It’s my fault, forgive me. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

Frisk mirrors Aofil’s hand. “No, I shouldn’t be angry be with you, Aofil. It’s not like it was your fault. You’re the...you’re the only human I have close to me, and I feel like with you I can talk about things that I can’t with the monsters. I shouldn’t assume that you will have all the answers though. I should’ve asked you if you were comfortable with it first, I’m sorry. Should’ve given you a warning or something.”

“It’s fine.” Aofil reaches over and places their hand on Frisk’s shoulder. It’s tense like a violin string. It relaxes a bit from Aofil comforting it though, sinking just a bit from the exhaustion of being as tense as it was.

“I’ve always wondered though. Did you,” Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder, “run past my house on your way up? It’s on the way, so I’ve always assumed that you did, but with what we just said about assuming though.”

Frisk runs their eyes up and down the house. “Yeah,” they nod. “I did. Like you said, it was on the path. I didn’t pay it no mind though, for me it was just another house.” Frisk lets out an amused scoff. “Don’t think I could’ve been more wrong.”

A small shiver is sent up Aofil’s spine. It’s not much, but it’s there. “Kinda unsettling to think back on it with everything that has happened.” they say. “What if I had looked out the window? What if I’d seen you? Although, the way I was back then, I don’t think I’d paid it no mind that a child would be sprinting past my house. It’s just that, with everything that’s happened, it’s takes on a pretty unsettling context, you know? If it were a movie the scene would’ve gone into slow motion as you ran passed it, with my silhouette in the window.”

“Played by Mettaton?”

“Well, both of us, obviously. This is a situation where the reality of the situation is worse than Mettaton reenacting it though.”

Frisk brow furrows as they contemplate it. “Yeah, I feel the same. Damn. I ran past your house on the way up to the mountain. It was the last house I passed on my way down the Underground, and it was the first one I went to after the monsters resurfaced.”

Aofil can’t help but be struck by a thought. “Isn’t that kinda, well, obvious,” they say with a light scoff.

Frisk throws one hand in the air. “Well, yeah, geometrically speaking it’s obvious, but I’m not feeling unsettled up here,” Frisk taps their skull, “but here,” and then move their finger down to their chest. They pat it. “Here’s where it feels weird to think that I was so close to your house when I ran towards Mt. Ebott. Since it wasn’t just your house, it was also...Chara’s.”

Not the first child to run past up towards the mountain in an attempt to find the legend. Realize the legend. Become the legend. Did all the kids pass it? The last house before the humans’ death, but the first house for the monsters’ life. 

Aofil’s home.

A home that’s now surrounded by monsters. Housing a human with a monster family that loves them, and who the human loves back. There were two living in that house before though. A pair of twins.

Now there’s just one remaining that can walk around inside it. What does the other one think though?

“Is it because Chara also feels it, Frisk? Are they feeling weird about it as well? Are they feeling anything?”

The question hits as hard as a train, both to Aofil for asking it, and for Frisk to answer it. The two humans turn away from each other. They need a few moments for themselves before they can begin together.

For a long while, nothing but the occasional sip from Frisk breaks the heavy silence. Heavy it is, considering the low shoulders the two humans wear. The second cup runs dry fairly quickly though, and the silence returns, just as heavy, if not more.

“They don’t,” Frisk finally speak with a quiver to their voice and with their back still facing Aofil. “Chara doesn’t feel anything any longer. It hasn’t changed since last time you asked. I would’ve noticed by now. Trust me on that one. It’s...quiet.”

Aofil nods, even though they know Frisk won’t see it. “I see. Are you planning on trying to get them back?”

Frisk turns around, Aofil can feel it. They turn as well to meet them. Frisk avoids Aofil’s eyes at first, but they manage to work up the courage to meet them. Aofil flinches back just a bit as they see what’s behind Frisk’s eyes.

A question.

A question Aofil’s not sure Frisk even wants to ask. It’s eating away at them though, and the struggle of it has Frisk’s eyes glimmer as they water. In stark contrast to their lips, who Frisk has to wet with their trembling tongue. Their mouth bends into conflicted shapes, exposing and hiding a set of teeth gritted as a last gate for the question. It’s not enough though, and it slips out. It’s barely audible, but almost deafening at the same time.

“Do you want that, Aofil?”

No answer. Is that what Aofil meant by asking? What else would they want to get out of it? Why else would Aofil ask for Frisk to bring their dead twin back?

“I...I don’t know.”

The humans avert from the other. Arms cross, cups are tapped anxiously, brows are furrowed hard to keep in check their emotions. It doesn’t help though. It doesn’t help, because there more to be said. More to be asked. It’s just as heavy as the first one though, just as difficult to form. Frisk’s tongue tenses up, only producing a strained choke. Aofil looks over to make sure they’re alright, and get a solemn nod in return. They mirror it, and move their head aside again. 

“Do you want Chara instead of me?”

Does Aofil?

“No,” Aofil speaks gently. “I don’t want them back. I guess I have to get used to their death as much as you have to, Frisk. I feel my entire being scream at me for saying that. Like I’m giving up on them, but really, how can I give up on them if I never had hope in them to begin with?”

“The monsters had hope in them,” Frisk says with one hand clutching their chest. “I wish I could return that.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

Frisk releases their chest, “No,” and replaces their hand onto the cup. “I’ve barely been able to thing. It’s been so quiet. It’s not like Chara and I spoke before, but I always felt their presence, that they were there with me. It’s just me now, just me, myself, and I. For as long as I’ve been with the monsters I’ve had Chara with me. They’ve helped me, they’ve helped the monsters. Now I’m alone without them, and being around monsters without them feels so...wrong. Like I’m taking all the credit. Like I’m taking advantage of all their work. Taking all the credit for our joint work.”

“If anything that shows how good of a heart you got, Frisk,” Aofil remarks, giving Frisk a warm smile to reinforce it. They get a reserved one in return. “You two have done good work, Frisk, but I don’t think Chara would want you to give them any credit. Not the Chara I spoke with in that bathroom. Not the Chara that smashed the mirror when they caught a glimpse of your reflection in it, Frisk. They hated to be control over your body. In a way, I understand that, I’ve had a body that wasn’t mine before. You two were stronger together though were as me and Asriel were...”

Aofil clears their throat hard.

“Besides, that’s not what they would’ve wanted, they said so much when the two of us spoke, so that’s not what I want as well. We’re twins in that regard. The worst part though is that I know they’re dead, but I’ve done so much in proving that death isn’t really a barrier, but more as a puzzle? I know how much the monsters enjoy their puzzles.”

“Sans-”

“I know what Sans said,” Aofil interrupts. “I believe him too. I’ve no reason to doubt him, not at all, and I’m not. I just feel that when Chara and I spoke...Did you hear what we said, by the way?”

“Yeah, all of it. Although,” Frisk shuffles uncomfortably, “it was hard to comprehend. It was so dark when Chara was in control. They did their best to comfort me, to make sure that I was aware as much as possible, but...”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

The silence returns, heavier still. Like two anvils pushing down, it has the humans bending over forwards. 

“No, I need to,” Frisk whispers. “I need to say it. Sorry that you have to hear it, Aofil. You already saw Chara struggle with handling our combined emotions. They were so afraid, so scared to lose you, so scared to lose me, so scared of losing everything. Again. All of that poured into me, but I couldn’t do anything about it. That in turn made me scared, and it came back around to Chara, and so the circle continued.”

Frisk lets out a pined sob. “Again!” Aofil hears the sound of porcelain landing in the grass below. “It was too much for me…I couldn’t…I couldn’t! I gave up...I gave away all control to Chara! I left them alone! I promised that it wouldn’t hurt them, and I left them alone! They’re gone! They’re dead! Because I wasn’t-”

“You are strong, Frisk!” Aofil steps in loud. They need to get it through to Frisk. “It’s not your fault Chara is gone. I don’t know what made them make the choice they did, but you can’t blame yourself for that. Chara wouldn’t have that from you, and you know that.”

“It’s so quiet...”

“You’ll get through this, Frisk, I promise you that.”

“I want them back...”

“I know, kiddo. Another gut punch that you have to weather and endure. You have your family and friends around you though. Cry on their shoulders, they won’t judge.”

“I know.” Frisk rubs their eyes with the flat of their hand while coughing out one last sob. “Thank you, Aofil. I needed to get some of that out of me.”

“Anytime, Frisk. My door is open. Just need to get Alphys to have it turn back around.”

The remaining tears jump out of Frisk’s eyes as a light chuckle bounces out of them. “Yeah, you need to do that.”

“You’ll get through your birthday as well, Frisk. I haven’t gotten an invitation, yet, but I’ll be there, don’t worry. As long as it’s not snail cake, I’ll be good. I think I can figure out a nice present for you until the day comes.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want,” Aofil chuckles. “I’m not that much older than you. I’m teaching monster equivalent of high school as well, I think I know what you teens are into these days.”

Frisk looks over to the side. “That’s...that’s kinda the thing.”

“I won’t embarrass you, Frisk. You have my word.”

“No, not that,” Frisk says while shaking their head. “I said before that I don’t know my age.”

“You did, yes.”

“I think mom found out though. I think she knows. Her excitement worries me. It can only be for one reason. We’ve never put a number on my birthdays, I was just one year older, that’s it. Mom’s been keeping track though, and judging by the tone she had after getting off that phone call, I think it’s finally added up for her.”

Frisk takes a deep breath. “My next birthday will be my eighteenth one.”


	124. Taking it in

“Eighteen years old?”

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? One day a kid, the other an adult. I mean, that’s how birthdays work, true, but it’s so abstract to think about. Go to sleep a child, wake up a fully fledged adult!”

“Wow, adulthood. Must be scary. Of all people too. I guess it was inevitable, but hearing it for the first time. Dang… You’re right, it’s damn crazy.”

“Imagine my reaction to it.”

“Yeah...I don’t really think I can. I mean… What do I mean?”

“Been wondering that myself to be honest, Tyl. What do you actually mean?”

Tylior sends over a tired stare over the table. “Some days I do also wonder what you’re on about throwing meaning left and right, Aofil. Especially since you’ve done such a complete and sudden turn about the monsters that would have any other human in a neck brace!” Tylior sighs through his lips. “But here you are, head still facing forward, telling me that you’ve been tasked by one of the Royal Heirs to find out what the King and Queen are planning for their birthday?”

“Yup,” Aofil answers with a smack of their lips.

“Their eighteenth birthday. Something that the Royals would want to have quiet.”

“Yup,” Aofil repeats with an identical smack as they read through the menu.

“And if that information were to somehow come out into the public?”

Aofil glances over from the top of the menu. “Then I’ll know that it was you that leaked it. Not that you would, right? You wouldn’t want to get on the King and Queen’s bad side, now would you? Not when you’re looking for that new apartment.”

“How did yo-”

“It’s really amazing how many times I have to mention that the King and Queen wouldn’t blink an eye to the notion of commissioning a statue of me, and yet you still doubt the things I say, Tyl,” Aofil interrupts as they put down the menu on the table with a quick flick of their wrists. “Like, worryingly so. I’m only slightly exaggerating, but only because I’m sure that they’ve thought about it at one point. If you just hearing that is enough to furrow your brow like its got an anchor on it, and it also freaking your mind out, then I’d suggest strapping in real tight since it’s even worse actually having it happen to you, Tylior.”

He waves the notion off. “Yes, yes, my now monster accepting friend. Forgive me for being a bit hesitant to you knowing things that I’ve not told you about. Not really used to the mind reading yet.”

“How else would I then help you get a bigger and better one?”

“Oh.” Tylior blinks quietly. “You did?”

“Yes, of course.” Aofil shrugs. “You’re my friend, so you get benefits.”

“Not like that,” Aofil adds to be perfectly clear.

“As if you could handle me,” Tylior chuckles. “But yeah, thanks, Aofil. I appreciate it.”

Aofil flips up the menu again. “Say nothing of it. Especially me flubbing my words like that.” 

Tylior does the same with his. “So what are you gonna do, Aof? How big a spade do you need for all this royal dirt you’re gonna dig up?”

They shrug as they lean back into the silk clad chair. “I’m gonna do what Frisk asked me to, Tyl. I’m gonna try and dig up as much as possible. Shouldn’t be too hard, I have a spade the width of a pizza spatula, or whatever those are called.”

“Which is why we’re at Muffet’s?” Tylior wonders with a perplexed hand up against the store window with a cartoon spider surrounded by various forms of pastry. A real spider lands on his hand, and he flinches after a second since he didn’t register the touch immediately. Once he lays eyes on it, well…

The spider shoots a very hard look over to Tylior with his hand awkwardly tucked against his chest as it gets control over the swinging Tylior’s flinch tossed it into. After a couple of seconds of it waiting for an apology that will never arrive, it spins on its spun string over to Aofil with a limb extended towards the menu in their hands.

“We’ll have,” Aofil starts as they quickly skim the menu one last time while their tongue bounces rhythmically against the roof of their mouth behind their front teeth, “two of the lunch offerings with some,” Aofil lowers the menu and shoots a questioning brow over to Tylior, “coffee?”

He nods as he shakes the lingering feeling of eight small feet off his hand. “Coffee works for me.”

The spider flies up into a crack in the wooden planks above the window, almost as if its string was a strand of spaghetti someone very hungrily slurped up.

And speaking of hungrily and audible slurping. Something catches the corner of Aofil’s eye from behind the counter. Just the tiniest movement, but it’s plenty enough for Aofil to sense what’s coming.

They push themselves up with a hand on the back of their chair. “Let’s switch seat, Tyl.”

“Why?” he asks yet still mirroring Aofil’s movement.

“Muffin is gonna come flying out of the front door any second now. I should be closer since it’s me he will be going for.”

“Good thinking,” Tylior agrees, but as he sits down in his new chair, a thought strikes him almost as hard as Muffin will do Aofil in a bit. His head slumps over as if hit squarely on the jaw. “Why did I agree on that?”

“You’re wondering why you’re not questioning it, are you, Tyl?” Aofil hazards a guess judging by Tylior’s blank stare. “It’s something you have to learn to live with now, I’m afraid. It gets easier if you don’t question it. Take that from me.”

“And I’m getting advice on it from the person I’ve known, until a couple of weeks ago, was the most hesitant of humans towards the monsters. It’s double stacked against me, Aofil, so you’re probably gonna need some patience with me on this.”

“I’ll enjoy seeing you question reality while it last then. Have I told you that once I was dressed up as that one character from Mew Mew season one with the tiara? Note that I didn’t say that I myself dressed up, I was by another monster that could speak my voice.”

Tylior’s head disappears into his hands. “Why, Aofil?” he sighs into his palms. “Why say these things to me? God dammit, they’re not even the same sex as you!”

“The monster knew some magic.”

“Stop!” Tylior shouts into his hands. “You’ve already made me confess that I watch that show. Have pity where none is deserved.”

“Oh yeah,” Aofil laughs as their face lights up bright. “I just did. You pathetic man.”

“But not only that,” a piece of Tylior’s face emerges from behind his fingers, “you’re also telling me that you were crossdressed?”

“It fooled me, even,” Aofil admits, but not out of shame. “That’s how good it was. Mettaton did it when I first appeared on his show.”

Tylior’s hands slid down onto the table, leaving his poor neck and shoulders to carry the weight of his heavy head scrunched into a narrowed and perplexed expression. “First appearance? You mean you’ve been on it more tha- You know what? Whatever. I’m just gonna stop asking questions. It’s better for my sanity. So I’m just gonna ignore whatever comes out of your mouth from now on while we’re still on this subject.”

“I did tell you when Undyne and Alphys showered together in my house, right?” Aofil asks with feigned curiosity.

Tylior sits with his leg crossed over his other, and with his clamped hands resting together on his knee. Aofil sees the combined fist tighten though, and they chuckle.

“Not as worse as when they downloaded that adult-”

The door behind Aofil crashes open, and they turn around even though they know fully what it was that came out of it. A slobbering mouth foaming with enough saliva to fill a swimming pool shakes with pure excitement. The saliva is sloshed around by a tongue whipping from side to side, throwing the spit around like a garden hose without a wielder. A pair of glistening eyes widened until their absolute limit stare back at Aofil, unblinking, and with complete focus.

Aofil turns back around while nodding carefully. “Just sit still, Tyl,” they advise their friend.

“Sure,” he answers, keeping his eyes looking at the horizon.

Aofil exhales. “Hi, Muffin,” they greet while smiling to the large spider thundering towards them. It overshoots its speed, and scrambles back desperately just a few inches from Tylior. He stares at it, ready to jump away at the smallest indication that it has seen him.

Aofil extends a hand that they have to retract almost immediately as Muffin snaps at it. “No!” Aofil huffs. “What did Muffet say?”

Muffin’s mouth turns into a bitter scowl, and a small waterfall of saliva pours out of its hanging lower jaw. Aofil again extends their hand, keeping a close watch on the hungry eyes following it onto Muffin’s back. Aofil scratches the rough skin with the edge of their fingernails. “There we go! See what happens when you don’t try and bite my damn hand off, you nightmare of a creature,” they say with the same voice they would a puppy, but to an overgrown spider with vicious fangs and a questionable understanding of speech. “You get scratches! Even though I’m not sure that your rock hard skin even feel it. I sure do! Feels like I’m patting one of those small pillows you keep your needles in, but with the sharp points sticking out!”

Once Aofil’s scratching reaches just behind the temple of Muffin, he collapses while shivering. “Oh!” Aofil smiles. “Gotta remember that spot for later.”

Muffin sighs with pleasure, the sound not being too far off a snore of someone with sinuses filled to the point of exploding. Like an old two stroke engine coughing its last breath.

Aofil points to the blubbering spider with its tongue hanging out while cocking their head over to Tylior. “You want to-”

“No,” Tylior makes very clear with just the tone of his voice without moving a muscle except his tongue. Absolutely not!

Aofil shrugs. “Your loss.”

“Stop lying.”

Aofil gives Muffin a final hard pat on its drooling cheek before sending him back inside the shop with a gentle push with the heel of their shoe. Tylior relaxes his shoulders as the large spider nears the door. Seeing that, Aofil turns around and whistles.

“Don’t!” Tylior curses at Aofil. “Dammit, Aof!”

Aofil lets out a light chuckle, it coming out as a small series of small whistles as they still have their mouth rounded. They refill their water, and offers to top off Tylior’s glass. He holds it out while looking around Aofil’s shoulder to make sure the spider is no longer outside.

“But speaking of spiders that seem to have a keen interest in you,” he says after he’s convinced himself that Muffin is gone for now.

“Subtle,” Aofil comments before drinking.

“You absolutely sure there isn’t anything between you and Muffet?” Tylior asks even less subtly. He tilts his head towards the counter inside. Muffet turns her head quickly around as Aofil follows Tylior’s movement. “See!” Tylior exclaims. “She’s all over you with all of her six arms. You’re just gonna ignore that?”

“What makes you so sure that I’m into monsters?” Aofil shoots back with one eyebrow lowered and one raised high. They hold that expression against Tylior’s displeased frown. Neither one buckles until a handful of spiders comes sliding down with a tray containing two coffee cups with spider web etched into the porcelain along with a jug of steaming black liquid.

Tylior runs his nose quickly over the steam as the spiders retreat back up after bowing deeply. To him it seems to be coffee, so he pours himself some, along with some for Aofil.

“Is it because you want to be sure that other humans can fall in love with monsters except just you, Tyl?” Aofil pops over quick before Tylior has time to raise his cup to his mouth. He sets it back hard, causing a few drops to jump out of the cup. Some lands on his hand, and he retracts it while shaking the pain off.

“Why are you asking me if I’m embarrassed that I love Sevoltne? I’m not, to make it crystal clear beyond any doubt. She’s a wonderful woman. Comes from a very respectable branch of monsters. Have you heard of Glenne Woolwing?”

“Can’t say I have, no,” Aofil admits after a thoughtful sip.

“Big griffon, lives a bit away from Mt. Ebott, in another mountain. Has helped Asgore a lot with building Monster City.”

“From another mountain?”

“Commuting is rather easy when you’re a majestic griffon and can fly.”

Aofil nods. “She related to Sevoltne?”

“Cousins, actually,” Tylior informs with a small motion of his injured hand to see how bad the burn is. “Thought you’d known her since you were so close with the Dreemurrs.”

“I don’t.”

“Alright then.” Tylior concludes that his hand has survived the ordeal, and puts his finger through the spider shaped ear of his cup. “I’ll tell Sevoltne that, she was the one that wanted to know.”

“Well now!” Aofil bounces their eyebrows playfully. “You two so close that she asks you for favors now? Is the wedding in a week or so?”

“Two weeks,” Tylior corrects as he raises his cup. One long drink later he puts the cup down while meeting Aofil’s dazed expression. “What?”

“Two...weeks?” Aofil repeats while cocking their head in confusion. “Marriage?”

Already? They’ve barely known each other for that long! Aofil’s no stranger to the eagerness of monsters, but two week until marriage? Is he really serious?

“I’m not serious, by the way.”

Oh…

Aofil heaves a relieved exhale. “Good.”

“We’re still probably gonna get married in the future though. I mean, we’re moving into an apartment of our own, and I don’t see us slowing down from there. I did manage to talk her into buying those felt chairs though. Gonna go great with those new curtains. I’ll invite you over for some housewarming once we’re done, Aofil.”

“I look forward to it!” Aofil smiles. “I should have my house facing the right side forward until then, so we can double the warming.”

“Right...side… You know what, I’m better off not asking.”

Aofil cheers to that.

The food comes a couple minutes later after Aofil and Tylior take a moment to enjoy the sun. The spiders leaving the food hands Aofil a folded up note before they slink back up.

“Could’ve at least let us taste the food before giving us the check.” Tylior blows his lips as he unwraps his cutlery from inside the bundled napkin sealed with spider silk. He pokes around a bit, moving some potatoes to one side of his plate, and some meat to another side. To his immense relief there’s no spiders hiding, involuntarily or not, underneath his food.

With a satisfied smile he cuts off a piece of each and stack them on his fork.

As he bites down his eyes pop open. He looks down onto the wooden grip of his fork while slowly pulling his fork out of his mouth. A string breaks off, and dangles from his lower lip.

A small compartment has opened up at the bottom end of his fork, and from it, three spiders have crawled out to help him with his eating. They’ve tied strings around the meat and potato to have them not fall off, and Tylior has bitten down on them happy as can be.

Happy as can was, at the current moment.

The spiders crawl together, and quiet chattering can be heard from them. After a second, they split up again. One travels up the fork, and shoots a string that sticks to Tylior’s front teeth. The terrified gasp it causes has the string fluttering, dangerously close to snapping. The spider is unfazed by it though, and with the help of the other two, it hoists a piece of potato up, and drops it.

The potato swings into Tylior’s mouth, hitting him directly on his uvula. He bends forward as a vicious cough attacks him, sending the spiders flying everywhere. He washes his mouth with the remainder of his water, and lobs it into the storm drain at his feet.

“Could you please tell your girlfriend to stop sneaking spiders into everything, Aofil?” he shoots over the table after managing to compose himself. Tylior grabs his napkin to dry his mouth. “Unbelievable.”

But Aofil doesn’t answer.

“Aofil?”

They’re too busy reading the note. Over, and over, and over again.

“Is it really that expensive? Your eyes are moving quicker than a speeding bullet!”

“Hm?” Aofil lifts their head, but their focus is still on the note. “No, it’s...” Their words drift off as they again read the note.

“No, it’s important,” Tylior says with a vague imitation of Aofil’s voice as he reaches over his hand over the table. “No wait, it’s nothing. You don’t have to read it, Tyl.”

Aofil snatches the note out of the one finger Tylior manages to get around the fold of the paper. They look back at him, and he opens his hand to ask for the note.

“It’s nothing,” Aofil says while pocketing the note quickly. “Just a bit about an order Toriel did for a school event, that’s all.” They take their fork and start eating.

Tylior shakes off the spiders from his own fork. “Really?” he asks while spinning the fork between two of his fingers once. He lets it slip down between them and implant itself on a potato.

“Really,” Aofil answers after swallowing their bite. “It’s nothing. Just a bit stunned over the price, that is. Granted, I’m not paying for the order, but it’s still a hefty amount.”

Tylior’s not convinced. He taps the back end of his fork so that it digs further and further into the cooked vegetable. “Not any of my concern? Even after you’ve said that you’re digging up stuff for one of the Royal Heirs? Even after you’ve flustered over me suggesting that you and Muffet are together? Even after that, nothing that concerns me?”

“If I were to ask you about your sex life with Sevoltne would you describe it in vivid detail?” Aofil retorts immediately after.

Tylior’s lips are dragged into a sinister smile. “You want tips with monsters?”

“That’s not...” Aofil shakes their head. “No.”

“Let me tell you about it anyways.” Tylior gropes out a cavity in the meat with his fork. “First, we-”

“Tylior,” Aofil says without blinking.

He looks up from his bent over posture. “Yes?”

“Stop.”

He retracts his knife from the cavity. “Your loss.”

“I doubt that.”

“And I, in turn, doubt that.”

Aofil, with a slightly less appetite than ten seconds ago, returns to their food with a sigh. “Just eat your food, you species deviant. Betrayer of the human race.”

“You have so many colorful ways to say that you’re jealous of me, Aofil.” Tylior cuts off the piece he made a dent in, slowly, and with passion. “You’re like a walking thesaurus.”

“I can just as easily retract your place in the queue for your apartment, you know?” Aofil threatens with a lettuce leaf and a piece of, what they think, and hope, chicken flapping wildly at the end of their fork pointed with great annoyance towards Tylior. “Have you live in something that’s one room smaller.”

“Sevoltne would have something to say about that, true. She does get really puffy when she gets angry which I always find cute. It’s like those old cartoons when the characters inflate their chest like a balloon. She hasn’t popped yet, luckily.”

“Alrighty then.” Aofil bites down on their fork and start chewing.

Tylior will drop the subject now. That Aofil’s sure of. He knows the boundaries, he was the one that helped Aofil set them. Damn...Aofil really enjoyed talking with Tylior now. Helped vent a bit. This note though that Muffet gave them, it’s so loud in their head right now. It’s not an immediate hurry, so Aofil’s not gonna excuse themselves. They’re still gonna enjoy eating lunch with a good friend, but after it they’re gonna head in and talk to Muffet.

They still need to pay for this, so it’s not that big of a detour.

But for now they’re gonna enjoy their company.

So they do. Eating in silence with Tylior, leaning back as he does when he’s finished, accepting the complimentary spider pastry, seeing him twist and turn it like Aofil would a piece of snail pie.

Once the coffee runs dry though, Tylior reaches behind him.

“I got it,” Aofil offers.

“You sure?” Tylior asks. “The price is-”

“We’re together, remember?”

“Right, right.” Tylior pushes himself out of his chair and offers his arms to Aofil. They embrace him, sending him away with a couple of gentle pats on his back.

“See you later, Tyl.”

“You too, Aof!” he waves as he walks down the street.

The spider chime sings Aofil’s entrance to the somewhat busy Spider Cafe. Muffet pokes her head up from inside her bakery, and her smile widens. She skips on her toes over to the register, and types in the total.

Even with Aofil’s...discount...they still feel their heart jump as the total rings. They swipe their card, and the green check mark indicating a successful transaction matches the color of their face.

“I got your note,” Aofil says as they fold their wallet into their pocket.

Muffet nods. “Inside the bakery,” she suggests while motioning Aofil to walk around the counter.

Aofil can feel the eyes of the entire dining hall pierce their back as they round behind the counter. Some whispers follow them inside the bakery, but they don’t pay it no mind.

“I know what you’re gonna ask, Aofil,” Muffet says carefully as she turns around with her hands rubbing against each other. “And the answer...” She looks up at Aofil with five soft eyes. “The answer is yes.”


	125. Pet persueeved

“I really do need your help to care of Muffin for a couple of days.”

Hey now! Hold up a second! Aofil throws up their hands, waving frantically while shaking their head quickly. “Oh no no no no! What? Why me?”

“Didn’t you read my note?” Muffet asks with three of her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that why you’re in here? If it wasn’t, then...” Her cheeks start to blush. “Then is it because you-”

Aofil finally manages to fish out the note from their pocket.

“...Oh.” Muffet looks the side and mutters a silent curse.

Aofil reads through the note again. “You wrote that you wanted to talk to me, and then that it’s important, and then that it is...”

‘a serious pet peeve’

Aofil blinks for a couple for seconds before crumbling the note in their hand and throwing it over their shoulder. A bunch of spiders come swinging from the roof and catch it in midair. They bring it over to the nearest trashcan.

“Alright, I might’ve misread the note,” Aofil admits with a tilted shrug and a sigh. “So I didn’t come here because I wanted to house Muffin for a while. Sorry if I disappointed you there.”

“It’s fine.” Muffin nods to herself while brushing away her fringe from her eyes with one while fiddling away with the rest. “I’ll figure out someone else to watch over him while I’m away. You were the first to spring to mind.”

“Why me?”

“Because I think Muffin likes you. He ran out the door when he heard you were here. He doesn’t do that often.”

The spider chime at the front door rings loudly along with wild panting turning the corner. A monster falls down in a flurry of limbs just outside the store window. The wind chime rings again, now with half panicked sobs and grunts.

Muffet excuses herself and heads out to the counter to tend to her new unwilling guest. She beckons for Aofil to hand her the tray of muffins on the table next to them. Aofil grabs the tray, and is burned by the heat. They find an oven glove shaped like Mettaton and use it to move the tray into Muffet’s reach.

“Thanks for your business! Ahuhuhu~” she wishes to the customer. The response comes as a terrified look over its shoulder as it grasps the muffin tightly in its hand, staring fearfully at the back of Muffet’s head as she walks back into the bakery. Aofil meets the horrified eyes for just a moment. They offer a warm smile as a form of help, but it fails.

As soon as the monsters thinks it’s safe, it runs for its life, dashing past the wide window in just two steps.

Not that often, ey?

“He usually goes out to bring new customers in, but with you he likes to say hi, Aofil,” Muffet explains as she carefully passes by Aofil to tend to some doughnuts rising in a nearby oven.

“Greeting me by trying to bite my fingers off?”

“Just a nibble, he’s not actually trying to eat you! Ahuhu~” Muffet giggles to herself. “Not anymore.”

Aofil’s not entirely convinced, and they shoot another look over to Muffin standing eagerly with his face pressed up against the store window, drool slobbing down the glass and pooling underneath him. It’s not a pretty sight, and even worse for the monsters passing and recoiling from realizing that they’re just inches away from a bottomless hole surrounded by vicious teeth and a flopping tongue.

“Sure,” Aofil mumbles out. “Not anymore.”

“Which is why I asked you first, Aofil.” Muffet closes the oven lid and removes her four oven gloves that she places neatly in a pile on top of it. “With me being away,” she says as she moves over to the refrigerator next to it. “I don’t think he can take care of himself during that long of a time. He needs all the love he can get!”

“How do you mean away exactly, Muffet?” Aofil asks. “Where are you going? Vacation?”

“Royal business,” she informs as she closes the fridge door hard after a silent beat. She walks over to the table Aofil is standing next to and places a large bowl covered in plastic wrap on it. “Can’t tell.” She removes the wrap and coaxes the dough onto the work surface.

Oh? “Is it a secret?” Aofil pries as they hand Muffet the flour she beckons for. “Something about a big party perhaps? Need a lot of pastry?”

Muffet’s lips curl up closer, and she spins around while embracing herself with her arms. “I can’t tell you anything more, Aofil.” She pretends she meant to cover herself with sticky dough, and scours the nearby shelf for some spices that she add to the dough.

“So why do you need me to look after Muffin?” Aofil pries further while trying to sound as innocent as possible.

“It’s...it’s a big order,” Muffet explains after some internal debating whether or not she should. “It’s so big that I’m not able to do it here. I have to go back to the Underground, but if I do, I’m gonna have to convince Muffin to go back in, and that’s gonna take all my energy that I need to bake.”

Is that so? It has to be for Frisk’s birthday, it can’t be for any other reason. Aofil can’t ask directly though, Muffet would relay that Aofil knows over to Asgore and Toriel. If they know that Aofil knows, then they’ll surely be sure that Frisk knows that they know since Aofil knows. Aofil knowing means that Frisk knows and if Muffet knows that Aofil knows it means that Frisk knowing would lead to Toriel and Asgore knowing that Muffet knows that Aofil knows and that Frisk knows.

Who knows!

Not Aofil, not know...now.

Their head is hurting for some reason.

Aofil takes support on the table next to them as they massage their head. A spider brings them a glass of water that they happily accept. They drink deeply, and exhale the jumbled thoughts.

Yeah, can’t have whatever mess that implies.

Subtle, Aofil needs to be subtle. To dig deep, but to also be careful not to hit any rocks that would alarm the ones around them.

How much more can they lean on Muffet though? Metaphorically, that is. Although judging by her latest blush, she wouldn’t mind the literal situation. Should Aofil leverage that? Nah, that would be an asshole move to do. Accepting the discount on the food served and free dessert is being a courteous guest and allowing the host to be generous.

That Aofil has no problem with. Neither does Muffet, since she stills does it.

Feigning a deeper relationship to fish for party plans?

That is a couple of steps over the line. That would lead to Aofil being strung up in a cocoon, and not in a loving manner.

No, Aofil needs to be more sneaky with this.

“How...how are you feeling, human?”

Aofil looks up from their hunched over posture summoned by their postulating to see Muffet waving her hand carefully with a slightly worried expression stretching over her arc of eyes. “Hm? I’m fine, I was just thinking a bit.”

Muffet nods. “Thinking about maybe taking care of Muffin after all? I’ll give you the food he needs, of course. I’ve been easing him off soul flavored food now so you should be able to sleep well during the night. I know he does.”

Should?

“He’ll be a bit calmer once he gets used to you, shouldn’t try and nibble at your exposed parts.”

Shouldn’t?

While bending down to open a nearby cupboard, Muffet throws one arm over it and towards the store window. “You have spiders in your home, right? He feels safer around them, and they’re his favorite snack! I’ll give you some doughnuts and cups of spiders as well if he gets grumpy in my absence. They’re special spiders, all the way from the equator! I’m trying to find a way to integrate them into my baking, but that might take a while. I have to have them not be poisonous, and I’m working on breeding it out of them.”

Poisonous?

“Last time was such a mess.” Muffet crosses her arms and shakes her head tiredly. “I’ve never heard such complaining in my entire life! Grillby makes his food spicy so people get cramps and he gets all the praise, but I serve poisonous spiders that give the same aches and everyone’s up in arms! I even offered a complementary spider effervescent tablets for half the price.” 

Muffet scoffs angrily. 

“Muffin doesn’t mind it though, and he thinks they are delicious, so that’s where they’re going for now.” She opens up a container and shakes it around. “Ain’t that right, my precious pet?”

Aofil has to lift their leg to give Muffin enough room to make the gap between Aofil and the nearby table. He slides up to the plastic container and dives his face into it.

“Ahuhuhuhu~” Muffet giggles with one hand planted gingerly on her cheek, and another on Muffin’s. “I haven’t seen you this excited since I got that super secret order I can’t talk about from the Royals. You sure liked the sound of that, didn’t you? Ahuhuhuhu~”

Aofil’s eyes snap down to the slobbering spider devouring its snack as graciously as an overly excited dog digging through loose dirt. The spiders managing to flee his vicious tongue whipping back and forth should worry Aofil, what with them being poisonous, but they’re not. Their mind is too occupied to be afraid right now.

Does Muffin know?

Oh, Frisk is gonna owe Aofil big time for this.

“You know what, Muffet?”

Big. Time.

“I think I might be able to.”

The two spiders stare with their mouths half opened. The ones inside Muffin’s mouth climb up onto his sharp fangs to do the same. 

“Y-you can?” Muffet manages to ask through her stiff expression. “You really can take care of Muffin for me?”

“For how long?”

“A week, maybe a week and a half.”

Big! Time!

“Yeah,” Aofil sighs out. “I can do that.”

A second later they’re squeezed tightly by all six of Muffet’s arms. “Thank you so much, human!” Wrapped up in a cocoon, but not one of spider string, but of spider arms. Just as cramped and uncomfortable though. A caressing clamp that wrings tighter and tighter for each second.

“Thank you,” Muffet says again with her head leaning over Aofil’s shoulder. They think they hear a relieved snivel from her as well.

No air is left in Aofil’s lungs, so they can’t really tell her that she’s welcome. That is something they will have to wait to give when Muffet releases them. If she releases them.

Muffet realizes after hearing Aofil taking a desperate breath in her ear. She releases them, allowing Aofil to greedily fill their lungs. Muffet wrings her hands with cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “Sorry, human. I didn’t mean it to hug you that hard.”

“It’s fine,” Aofil assures after a cough. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t ready for that, no worries.”

They barely have time to catch even the slightest of their breath before they’re jumped on again, this time by Muffin. The tiny spiders hang on for dear life as he lunges up on Aofil, licking their face with a tongue half filled with terrified and poisonous spiders. 

Big!! Time!!

Aofil pushes Muffin away so that their face is out of tongue’s reach. They have to extend their arm fully before that point is reached, and holding such a twitching and large monster is really taking a toll on Aofil’s shoulders. If they drop him he’ll charge at them again, so they’ll have to weather his weight and squirming for now.

“See!” Muffet cheers with glee. “You two will have no problem getting along! I might even have to fight to get him to come back with me when I return. Fuhuhuhuhu~”

Oh god no! She can’t be saying those things! Aofil might have to get Frisk to reset if that were to be the case!

Muffin cocks his head around as Muffet whistles for him, and he struggles out of Aofil’s hands, much to their delight. They roll their shoulders to force away some of the pain from holding Muffin up, and accidentally hit a button on one of the ovens. They quickly press it again, and inspect to make sure nothing happened.

Doesn’t seem to have done anything, thankfully.

“This is what you’ll be needing!” Muffet shouts from the other side of the bakery, waving six heavy bags in her hands. “I packed only the essentials!”

Only? But how-

The loud complaining from the table she places the spider laced bags on has Aofil worried. How are they supposed to get all of those home? Are they gonna have to get another wheelbarrow and have Alphys modify it? Willingly this time.

Maybe that’s indication enough that this is going too far?

Yes, very much so! Alas, Aofil made a promise, again. Gotta learn to stop doing that. Something about Frisk though. You can’t say no to them. Almost as Frisk is flirting or something.

Aofil’s brow lowers and a deep shadow creeps over their face, plunging it into complete darkness.

Oh no, they were.

“Again, only the essentials, human!”

Aofil looks up from their void of realization to discover another six bags bending the poor table even further.

“W-what are those for?” they ask with a perplexed finger outstretched in increasing fear.

“His other toys!” Muffet answers with a giggle. “These are his main toys.” She points with three arms to the first set of bags. “And these are his other toys in case he gets bored with his main ones,” she points with her other three arms.

“What’s the...” Aofil has to take a steadying breath as they feel a bit of fear creeping up their spine. “What’s the difference?”

Muffet narrows her eyes. She just said it! She points to the first set of bags again. “Main toys.” And then the second set. “Other toys.”

“Yes, but-” Aofil massages their tired forehead for a second or two. “What is the difference between the bags and the toys?”

“One jar of spiders he’ll play with first, and another he’ll only play with if he’s bored with the first ones.”

Why is Aofil surprised? Why didn’t they think of that from the very beginning? Of course it’s jars of spiders! Of course it’s gonna be those! Why oh why did Aofil think differently? The last desperate struggle of their mind to apply some form of normality where none belong? Apply sense to monster business?

Oh look, she’s bringing in more…

“Are those the toys for when he’s bored with the toys he’ll use when he’s bored with his main ones?” Aofil asks through a deep sigh.

Muffet nods happily. “Yes, now you’re getting it! You can tell the difference easily actually, now that I think about it. The main set are one species, the first backup is another, and the third one is another.”

“What kind of species?” Aofil asks, patting themselves, and looking around for a pen and paper to write it down. They lean quickly out the serving window, scaring the customers, and then leaning back in with a pencil and a notebook filled with Muffet’s scribbles.

“Oh, fuhuhuhuhu~” she giggles. “They have no name, not yet. I haven’t given them any yet.”

“Yes,” Aofil acknowledges as they flip through the pages to reach one that’s clean, “but what about its scientific name?”

“Ahuhuhu~” she giggles again. “No.”

Aofil shoots over a confused look. “No?”

“They don’t have one either.” Muffet puts a finger out, letting three spiders string themselves down and arrange themselves. “Like I said, they came all the way here from the equator, I think from a rain forest, or something, so they haven’t been documented yet.”

“You ordered them, right?” Aofil wants clarified, although they fear-

“No, they walked here.” Muffet holds up a finger. “Some flew using string, but most of them walked.”

Aofil holds their baffled look. She can’t be… She is serious! The three spiders nod, confirming her statement.

“So you have here bags full of, what I’m guessing jars?” Aofil asks while moving the pen in their hand from bag to bag.

Muffet and the spiders on her finger nods. “Glass jars.”

“Right!” Aofil flicks the pen upright. “Glass jars full of venomous-”

“Poisonous,” Muffet corrects a bit harshly.

“Glass jars full of poisonous spiders that are unknown to the scientific community, as well as your community, Muffet.”

She nods again.

“Right!” Aofil brings down the pen to the notebook, tapping the pen on it rhythmically. “And you’re using them as toys for your pet spider.”

Muffet nods, again.

“How exactly does Muffin play with the spiders?”

“Well.” Muffet walks over to a bag and brings up a jar. She puts her hand on the lid. “First I open and-”

“No!”

Muffet screw the lid back on again. “Sorry?”

“I am not opening jars full of poisonous spiders in my house, Muffet. I’m busy enough finding new things that Alphys have tinkered with, I don’t have the time to be scared to death that one is gonna escape and turn my inner walls into an arachnologist’s heaven.”

“Arachnologist?” Muffet asks while putting back the jar into its bag. “What’s that?”

“A human that specializes in studying spiders and such,” Aofil explains with a soft motion of their hand.

One of Muffet’s hand goes up to her mouth, with her elbow resting in another of her open palms. The rest of her arms are crossed in the same thought as the hand on her mouth. “Is that what that human was?” she wonders out loud to herself. “Would explain the lab coat.” She glances over to the three spiders that have moved up to her shoulder. They all shrug, and so does she. “Doesn’t matter, I wasn’t into her anyways.”

The spiders trade glances.

“I wasn’t!” Muffet repeats, louder, almost breaking her voice in the process. The spiders recoil back from the volume.

Aofil needs to force an answer here or else they’re gonna be here forever. “Do you have any other toys besides exotic spiders for Muffin to use?”

“Of course I have. He even gets bored of his tertiary toys. I have some bags with dog toys that he-”

“Those are fine!” Aofil shouts while stretching their arms out desperately. “I’ll take them.”

“They’re a bit annoying though,” Muffet warns with a reserved shrug. “They squeak so loud.”

“That’s fine!” Aofil repeats. “I can manage, I promise. Just no poisonous spiders.” They look over to the spiders on Muffet’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Why did they apologize?

And another thing. “When do you want me to take care of him? Next week or so?”

“Oh no no no.” Muffet lets out a small chuckle while helping the spiders get closer to the wall so they can scurry up it. “I’m leaving in ten minutes.”

She’s-

“Muffin!” she calls with a whistle. “You’re going home with the human now! I’ll be back in a week, best pet. Be good now!”

But no one came.

“Strange...” Muffet whistles again, but there’s no trickle of eight excited feet running over tiled floors. “Where is he?”

The sound of Mew Mew season one’s intro song has Muffet’s whistle dying down. Aofil reaches into their pocket, and pull out their phone. “Yes, Alphys?” they answer.

“Hello, Aofil. I’m here at your house.”

“Oh yeah, there should be a key underneath the box of pillows.”

“Yeah, I found it.”

“Nice.”

“It’s not why I called though.”

Aofil’s brow sinks, half in fear, half in confusion. “Then why?”

“You know Muffet’s pet?”

“Muffin?”

Muffet’s head cocks over to Aofil’s phone, and they engage the speaker.

“Yeah, Muffin. H-he,” Aofil hears Alphys swallow through the phone, “he’s inside your house.”

“Oh?” Aofil and Muffet trade furrowed looks. “How did he get inside?”

“I s-saw him rush down the street, and then he went inside through a window.”

Aofil can’t remember having any open when they left. “Was it opened?” they ask.

“No. Don’t think he’s hurt though, he’s looking at me very creepily. I’m gonna put the remote where I found the key, alright?”

Aofil shoots over a pair of unblinking eyes to Muffet.

She looks down, cheeks blooming in embarrassment. “I’ll pay for it.”

BIG!!! TIME!!!


	126. House squatting

“What in the-”

Aofil puts up their hand up perpendicular to their forehead, giving their eyes some shadow so that they can see better.

Ele-twe-thir-fourteen!

Fourteen?

Why is there fourteen monsters standing eagerly in a group in front of Aofil’s lawn? Worse yet, why aren’t they backing away from Muffin growling in the smashed window? Aofil can hear it even from where they are standing on the other side of the road, so why aren’t the monsters scrambling away in a panic?

A pink and blue striped arm is raised above the murmuring heads, waving to get Aofil’s attention.

Could be a clue.

Aofil squeezes past the whispering monsters. They hear their name and their house mentioned ten times too many, and when they plop out of the other end, the small convention of conferencing creatures cease their colloquium.

“Why do you have a camera, Asriel?” Aofil asks the young Boss Monsters fiddling with a lens that looks to be expensive, furthering stirring the baffled worry that is the reason. 

“School project,” he answers while checking the viewfinder as he points the camera towards the house. Again, why? He adjust just a bit more, and then nods to himself. “We’re gonna calculate how much force is exerted on your house’s legs when they turn around. That’s physics, right? Tension as well.”

Frisk shoots a quick shrug. “Depends on how it moves.”

“I guess.”

“Yeah,” Aofil is forced to step in here and take over, “that’s not really what I asked you to do.”

“Take a household object and put it through a series of stress tests, calculating the force, and tension where applicable,” Frisk reads from a piece of familiar paper they retrieve from their backpack. “Provide your reference material and calculations in your report. To be handed in next week, yadda yadda, signed Aofil. Black on white, literally, even the pictures you included.”

Ariel throws a confident point up to the angled house standing as if squatting for a pose. “We have your house’s legs, which are...”

“Holding my house up...” Aofil finishes with a sigh. “You got this idea from Sans?”

“He’s not the only one that can make jokes,” Frisk counters with a cocky smile as they fold the homework instructions in half, dragging their thumb and index finger across the bend. 

“Was mostly referring to him having a background in science, or at least, monster science,” Aofil corrects with a circular motion of their hand, “but the process is the same from what I’ve seen. He’s more than just a joke machine you know, despite how weird my tongue feels when I say that about him.”

“Oh...” Frisk almost drops the folded paper as it slips out of one of their hands.

“We could’ve asked Alphys as well,” Asriel reminds while securing the last bolt on the tripod for the camera.

Did they? “Did you?”

“She gave us some data about the weight and how it’s distributed.” Asriel nods up the street. “We met her on the way here. She told us that you should be home in a bit to turn your house back around. We then asked her if she could give us the data, and she could. We’ll be using that since we can’t really weigh your house. Our bathroom scale can handle dad, but not a house.”

There’s so much to unpack from that, Aofil’s not even sure where to start. Guess they’ll start with the most important part since they feel that it takes precedent. They cross their arms. 

“How high does your bathroom scale scale to?”

“Don’t know, it’s digital,” Asriel answers after thoughtful tilt of his head. “Although, dad once told me it might work with a house since he and mom used it together once. She...”

“She was very vocal in getting him to explain exactly what he means by that,” Frisk adds, breathing in through clenched teeth. “You know when you accidentally turn on cold water instead of warm when you shower?”

“No,” Aofil blatantly lies, “but go on.”

“That’s kinda how it felt when dad’s laughter was interrupted by mom’s loud cough.”

“I thought he handled it well,” Asriel says while crossing his own arms, leaning against Aofil’s picket fence that was decided to be there for them. “He’s one of the few monsters that can stand up to mom being, well, mom.”

“A king’s burden.” Aofil nods, pleased with what they just said. Maybe a bit too much, but what’s the hurt in being a bit prideful every now and then?

“That’s what he calls it, yeah,” Frisk informs, knocking Aofil off their high horse with a sledgehammer, sending them tumbling down and landing on their neck. Aofil rolls their shoulder in an attempt to shake off their internal embarrassment.

“Not when mom’s around though,” Asriel quickly affixes with a raised finger.

“Of course.” Frisk throws one hand up. “Obviously. He’s not stupid like that.”

“Yet he chose to make fun of Toriel?” Aofil asks, brow furrowed inquisitively.

“No, that’s just him being dumb,” Asriel answers. “What’s the difference?” he ask himself with a vague resemblance to Aofil’s voice, lowering their extended finger raised in preparedness for exactly that question. “The difference being that he’s stupid when he does those things when he knows when mom is around, and dumb when he doesn’t.”

Aofil’s baffled eyebrows fly up.

“It’s easier to distinguish that way,” Frisk explains with a shallow shrug. “Stupid when the person’s subject is around, dumb when it’s not. It’s easier to wrap your head around if you separate the two, I’ve found.”

“Monsters?” Aofil asks, despite knowing the anwer.

Frisk nods, ignoring the seething look from Asriel. “Exactly.”

“And speaking of monsters!” Aofil throws a thumb over their shoulder. “What about these? I’m pretty sure I put an upper limit on the project groups to be three, not sixteen.”

“We’re here to watch the show!” one in the group shouts. “Payed good money for it! You turning it around soon?”

Aofil’s hand sinks back down to their side, and their eyes lock hard on both Asriel and Frisk. “Pray tell.” They’re very eager to know.

The two siblings trade glances, guilty glances. “We...” Frisk starts.

“We decided to do two school projects in one go,” Asriel finishes. “You know, the economy one?”

Aofil leans forward with their arms tightly crossed. “You did a startup about my house? An entertainment company specialized in my house dancing for your amusement?” There’s no answer, not verbally, that is. Their silence speaks plenty though, and Aofil leans back upright with a devious shadow growing over their face.

“I want in. I’m the one with the house, after all.” They tap two of their fingers down on the air. “Fifty percent. See it as a favor.”

The two siblings raise an eyebrow each in unison.

“I’m giving you more material to add to your report. Hostile takeover, or something? Anyway, fifty percent, or I’m keeping the house as it is now.” They beckon for Frisk to open their backpack again. “I want it written as well, a proper contract. Again, this is to give you more material for your report.”

Frisk unconvinced cough flies past Aofil like a gentle sigh inside a class five tornado. After some, rather obvious, feigning from Frisk as they can’t find any paper, Aofil notices the, rather obvious, notebook pushing against the side of their backpack. Frisk flips it open, and Aofil takes out Muffet’s pen that they accidentally pocketed. To their relief it is spider free, but the ink isn’t really ink as much as colored silk. Makes for very nice lines though, Aofil might ask Muffet to sell them some.

“Right, there we go.” Aofil hands over the pen and paper for the siblings to sign. “Just do your yours truly and then you can keep it. I’m gonna take a photo of it first to-”

“Come on, Aofil,” Asriel sighs, throwing down his hand, almost ripping the contract in half. “Isn’t this a bit overboard?”

“Yes!” Aofil agrees fully. “But it will give you good grades, which in turn will give you more pie from Toriel, so in the end I’m doing you two a favor. It’s better that I give you a small slap on the fingers now so that you don’t get them chopped off in the adult world.”

The two siblings both shiver. Aofil’s pretty sure why, but a quick look to Frisk confirms it. They nod carefully towards Muffin, prompting a very perplexed expression from Frisk. “I’m on it,” Aofil mouths carefully.

Once Frisk and Asriel have signed with the help of each other’s back, Aofil takes a picture of the contract before handing it back to the kids. “Right, shall we?”

With confidence, and a bit of recovered pride, in their step, Aofil saunters up to their patio. They hoist themselves up to it. Not elegantly, but it’ll have to do. The remote is indeed in the place Alphys said it was, inside the pillow casket. On top of the pillows.

Not where Aofil would’ve wanted to find it, to be completely honest. Not even a post-it saying ‘Don’t touch’ or something? Jeez.

“Yes, yes, Muffin,” they address the slobbing monsters peeking out of their destroyed window. “I’ll be back in a bit. You want to come out, by the way?”

The spider shakes his head violently, sending streaks of drool reaching far on each side of the smashed window.

“Suit yourself. Maybe strap in as well.”

The remote is colored yellow with a wide arrange of buttons on it along with a display at the top. Aofil walks to where Frisk and Asriel are standing while studying the buttons. None explicitly say ‘Move back around’, but there is a button labeled ‘Voice command’, so Aofil is gonna hazard a guess on that one.

It’s either that or ‘Fold for travel’, ‘Open for maintenance’, or ‘Mew Mew Dance Party’.

“Camera rolling?” Aofil asks Asriel.

“It’s digital.”

Smartass. “Red dot blinking then?”

Asriel angles the viewfinder so that he can see if it is. “Yes.”

Aofil clicks the button, and brings the remote up to their mouth. “Turn back around,” they state to it, articulating as hard as they can so that it doesn’t misinterpret anything. The last thing they want is it misinterpreting as ‘Mew Mew Dance Party’, although that would be rather fun to see how the kids would go about calculating that.

With a loud whirring sound, the house’s legs bounce, sending out another loud flushing noise for all to hear. It starts extending one leg, and in doing so, knocks Muffin off balance. He looses grip on the broken window, and tumbles down into the corner of the house.

It freezes in place, and the upper floor windows open up wide. The knees start to shake, and soon the entire house is shivering.

Aofil sighs. “Goddammit, Alphys.” 

The house flings itself to the other side, sending Muffin tumbling in a jumble of limbs and slobbing tongue. The house spins around, lifting its feet high as it tries to shake off the spider inside it.

“Calm down!” Aofil orders through the remote, but to no avail.

The pipes and cables connecting to the house bend in ways that shouldn’t be possible, but in comparison to the reason they’re bending, it’s not really that surprising.

“Maybe you should try and coax it a bit, Aofil?” Asriel suggests with a quick motion of his hand towards the unsettled house.

“I’m not going near it when it’s flailing around like that.” They wave the remote in their hand. “Not gonna tell it to stop though since it’ll be in a worse pose than what it started in. Let’s just wait it out.”

“What about Muffin?” Frisk wonders.

Aofil cocks their head with a very unamused look plastered over their face.

Frisk concedes with a nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“If I’m lucky it’ll contain its stomping to just underneath it and not trample my lawn.” Aofil thinks out loud. “It’s finally started to grow since last time it wandered on the property.”

The house puts one leg perpendicular in the air, kicking wildly while shaking itself equally wildly. Glimpses of Muffin hanging on for dear life on the flapping front door has Aofil a bit worried, but he should lose grip any moment now.

“I remember having to open the gate for it when Alphys and Undyne brought it here,” Frisk says while turning their head away from the two story building trashing itself around on large pink legs that are desperately kicking wherever it can as doors and windows slam into their respective frames, creating a panicked percussion per pet purging.

Aofil turns to meet Frisk, eyebrows raised in swelling curiosity while still in the presence of their abaft abode abruptly abolishing an acquainted arachnid. “Really?” 

“Sans and Papyrus weren’t home, so they went up to our house to ask for assistance,” Asriel answers while easily moving his eyes from the startled stilts striking soiled soil. “Laid on the horn and everything.”

Aofil scratches their temple, ignoring their hopping house hoping his humbugness have heaved hence. “They couldn’t have done it themselves?”

Asriel checks the viewfinder to see if the auto focus can keep up with the house’s extravagant escapades exasperating everything excluding exploding. “Gotta have to ask them about that.”

The sound of something heavy rolling down the gravel path steals back the observers’ attention to the house. Muffin stumbles up on his legs, but falls over with his tongue hanging out, breathing heavily.

The house suffers on last shiver before it settles back down, the wrong way again. Jumping up as if suddenly remembering what it was supposed to do. The house makes a small pirouette, with the front door facing forward again. The windows and door close carefully, and from inside, Aofil can see their jumbled furniture beginning to rearrange everything back together from the ravaging ruckus.

“Yoooo!” comes an excited voice from the crowd behind. “That was awesome!”

Applause ring out from the crowd, and Aofil sees their house begin to move again. They press the voice command button on the remote again. “Don’t.”

It sinks back down.

Might just as well make sure proper that it stays down. “Disable personality for the house,” Aofil orders through the remote, earning themselves a slight scowl from Asriel and Frisk.

“What?” Do they really have to defend their actions? “I don’t want my house to take a bow! Sorry, I’m too human like that. I’m used to my house not being bummed out when I tell it to not take a freaking bow after trying to shake off a spider that’s inside it. Call the cops on me!”

Frisk tugs a quick smile. “If you say so.”

“I very much say so,” Aofil makes clear. “You got everything filmed, Asriel?”

He extends his thumb while nodding.

“Alright then.” Aofil points behind them. “Disperse your friends now that the show is over, and good luck with calculating each and every tilt that my house did.”

The two siblings trade worried laughter.

“I’m completely serious.”

The laughter stop. Aofil turns up their gravel path, stopping next to Muffin to poke at him with their foot. He halfheartedly snaps at it with his mouth, giving more than enough indication that he’s alive. “Come on, you devil spawn, I know that you’re awake. Muffet will be here soon with your stuff, and she’ll be mighty cross with me if she finds you like this.” Aofil wiggles their foot underneath the burbling monster, and rolls him over on his stomach. They give him some hard pats on his back. “Let’s go.” Aofil manages a couple of step before they hear Muffin slowly start to follow.

Another, less numerous, pair of footsteps also close in on Aofil. They turn to meet Frisk walking up with their hand rooting inside their backpack. “Have you found anything out?” they whisper while pretending to check deeper inside their backpack.

Aofil glances over Frisk’s shoulder. Asriel’s packing up the camera along with its equipment. Frisk could probably talk with a normal volume to their voice, but with all the secrecy they want, it’s understandable that they whisper now.

“Not yet,” Aofil answers quietly. “I might have a lead or two though.” They nod once down to Muffin, who looks up to Frisk when they follow Aofil nod. His tongue runs a very wet lap around his lips.

Frisk’s eyes dart back to Aofil, then back to Muffin, and finally back to Aofil again. “What?”

“Might,” Aofil repeats. “I’ll poke around elsewhere if this doesn’t go anywhere, I promise.”

“Right, thanks.” Frisk squirms a bit. “Sorry, I’m just...”

“It’s fine,” Aofil reassures with a smile. “I’ll let you know when I got something.”

Frisk nods. “Thanks.” They hurry back down the gravel back to Asriel to help him carry. Aofil can see Asriel asking Frisk something, but Frisk shrugs it off. He hesitates to shrug himself, but that could just be the weight of the camera weighing his shoulders down.

Aofil nudges Muffin gently with their foot. “So how can I get you to spill the beans?”

Muffin looks up with inquisitive eyes blinking asynchronous. The sound is quite disturbing, akin to smacking moist lips. Not as much as the sound of Muffin smacking his own moist lips, but the vague resemblance is plenty enough to make Aofil wish that such wasn’t the case.

If he’d stop slobbing all over their pant leg they’d be grateful as well. They retract it away from the large tongue. “No,” they state. “Muffet is easing you off soul food, I am not allowed to give you a snack.” 

Muffin stops on the stairs leading up to the house as Aofil opens the door. They wave for Muffin to follow inside, promising that it’s fine now, the house is grounded. Muffin hesitates to poke a leg inside, but after some not too subtle shoving from Aofil’s foot and drooled leg, he’s inside again.

Aofil bends one knee and leans to the side. “Whoa!” Their pretended loss of balance has Muffin flinching, and sprinting outside the door again. He doesn’t come back inside for a while, since Aofil’s laughing too much to be able to call for him again.

He eventually enters, albeit even more carefully than before.

The house is busy, an army of, what should be, common items running around with identical legs as the house wields, rearranging what the biggest legs kicked over. Aofil walks while trying their best not to react or acknowledge their umbrella opening up to help scoop up nearby shards of porcelain.

Muffin follows, eyes darting back and forth, confused and on toe.

Aofil sits down in one of their kitchen chairs. “Water, please. For Muffin as well, in a bowl,” they instruct. “Did you put some slices of cucumber and lemon in the pot, by the way?”

A dew covered glass served to the brim with ice cold water along with slices of frozen cucumber is served over Aofil’s shoulder by their fridge, and they nod in thanks. Muffin is given a bowl with the same glistening water, and he makes short work of it. A bit too short a work, as he cranes his neck up while letting out a long and pained moan.

“A bit too greedy there, Muffin?” Aofil takes a careful sip as to not have their own head crumple into the same ice as the cucumber in their glass.

For the good part of a minute, Muffin’s mouth stays wide opened until he finally manages to shake it violently. Cold spit splashes against Aofil’s leg, and they shiver from the sudden impact. 

Muffin’s head stops, sending his tongue smacking across the length of his cheek. He turns towards the front door. Aofil leans out into the hallway to see who it could be. They’re almost knocked off their chair as Muffin bolts towards the door. Before he reaches it he takes a sharp turn, away from the broken window on the door’s right side.

“Muf-”

The loud shattering of glass interrupts Aofil.

Why? Aofil turns to the fork running across the table. “Why?” they plead to it. It shrugs, and continues its travel towards the sink. 

Always with this! Every single gosh dang time. Couldn’t jump out of the already broken window!

No! Gotta make it symmetrical and break the other as well! One for getting in, one for getting out! 

Aofil groans as they stand up, sending out their annoyance for all to hear! From the top of Ebott their sigh will echo out to sing their lament. If it’s not a stuck window used for entrance without asking the monsters break it. If the house isn’t where they want it to be they attach robotic legs and have it walk across the country.

Aofil sighs again as they lay their hand on the front door’s handle.

Why do they love the monsters so much? 

Their air is swiftly pushed out of their lungs as Muffin flies onto their chest the moment Aofil opens the door. Aofil falls down on their back, and before they can get their bearings, thousands of smaller spiders start flowing around their head, carrying bags upon bags of…more spiders? Oh god-

No, just toys. Dog toys.

Aofil exhales in relief despite not having any air in their lungs. Their organs quickly inform Aofil of that, and their sharp gasp has Muffet’s curious head peeking over Muffin.

“Thanks again for taking care of him, Aofil.” She smiles while waving a small bag. “Here’s some doughnuts for you two.”

“You can put it on the table next to you,” Aofil informs while fighting Muffin mouth and tongue away from their face.

“Could you also give this to Alphys?” Muffet asks while tapping on another, smaller, bag. “As thanks for her upgrades.”

Aofil finally manages to close the mouth of Muffin. “Sure, I’ll pop over there in a bit.”

Muffet claps, sending the torrent of spiders in the opposite direction. She gives Muffin a wide hug will all of her arms. “You be good now! Ahuhuhuhu~”

“Good luck with your baking!” Aofil wishes warmly while wrapping their arm around Muffin’s mouth so that they can wave with the other. Once she’s closed the door behind her they roll Muffin off to their side, and he lays panting in tandem with Aofil.

Alphys, ey? What kind of upgrades? Aofil swivels their head over towards the table. The two bags are almost smoking, and it smells absolutely delicious.

Come to think of it, it is an hour or two after lunch now. Maybe Aofil should have some tea with their neighbors in the sun?

Sounds like a plan.

But first.

“More water, please!”

Muffin’s tongue falls dramatically onto the wooden floor with a dry thud.

“And some for him as well.”


	127. Lost in translation

“Hello, Undyne!”

“’Sup, Aof! How is it-ngaah!”

“Could you keep an eye on Muffin for me while I talk to Alphys?”

“Get off me, you damn mistake!”

“Thanks.”

Aofil steps over the fence that Muffin jumped just a couple of seconds earlier. He should be busy enough with Undyne now, from the looks of it he’s managed to wrap his limbs quite awkwardly around Undyne’s, despite her damnedest not to allow that.

It’s a scene straight out of a horror movie, the large and drooling spider first rushing from out of her vision, only to jump with fangs exposed straight for her face. Undyne reacted in the nick of time though, and her arms are now locked in a battle of attrition with the head of the struggling spider. Aofil makes a mental note of the large dumbbells laying in the grass underneath the workout bench Undyne immediately tumbled out of when she caught Muffin lunging into her. Might be that she was resting between sets.

“How’s this for surprising your muscles, Undyne? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Aofil catches a glimpse of an opened mystery novel next to one of the dumbbells. 

“Or are you surprising them with your book?” Aofil adds as they tilt their head to try and read the title. It becomes obscured from their view as Undyne retreats while on her back up to the bench. She manages to get one hand up on it before she has to brace for Muffin jumping on her again. She tumbles away again in a flurry of limbs and swears.

“Guess I’ll leave you two to it.”

Aofil knocks on the glass door before entering. “Alphys?” they ask through the sound of electronic tools as they near the basement. “It’s Aofil. Muffet told me to bring you some doughnuts for some upgrades you did!”

The whirring dies down. “S-sorry!” comes an apologetic voice from downstairs. “I didn’t hear! W-who is it?”

“Aofil!” Aofil answers back.

“Oh! I’m coming up!” Alphys shouts back from behind the basement door. There’s some clanking and quiet talking before she peeks her nose out after opening the door slowly. “H-hello, Aofil,” she greets while drying off her hands on an oily towel that’s fastened at the side of her lab coat. She pushes up her glasses with a claw. “Have you turned back your house yet?”

“Yeah, I did.” Aofil nods slowly, and reservedly. Didn’t she hear? “You didn’t notice?”

Alphys points behind her. “Been busy.” She laughs once, dragging a giggle that’s more like a snort than a comfortable laugh. She swallows hard as she hears it.

“Right.” Aofil hands over the paper bag with Alphys’ pastry. “New parts for Mettaton?”

Alphys’s nose disappears inside her bag as she looks down into it. “Oh, no, no, no.” She waves the notion away. “He has plenty stocked. I am doing-”

The paper bag contracts, clinging to the outline of Alphys’ nose and the doughnuts just an inch away from the tip of it. It expands, only to contract again, as Alphys lets out some unconvincing laughs. “Nothing.” She almost rips the bag up as she snaps her head up. “Nothing, I am just doing nothing.” Her hands crumple the top of the bag, rolling it up as she wrings her hands. She stops just short of squishing the doughnuts. “A whole lot of nothing! He he!”

She swallows hard again.

“I don’t know.” Aofil crosses their arms, the sound of it cutting Alphys ears so hard that she hunches over with her hands moving up her temples. “Sounds like a whole lot of something to me.”

Alphys feigned laugh does nothing to help her situation, and Aofil can see the gears turning at the speed of sound in her head. She’s definitely up to something, and it could be for Frisk’s birthday. Aofil makes another note to investigate further when they can. For now they’ll stick with Muffin.

And speaking of him.

Before Aofil can ask Alphys, Undyne’s head is thrust through the opened kitchen window. “Alphys!” she shouts, startling both her and Aofil with her sudden bark. “What is a common human dish that involves spiders?”

Alphys and Aofil trade looks, and shrugs. “You two are useless!” Undyne cranes her head back with a tired groan, which turns into a pained groan as she hits her head on the top of the window frame. She massages the impact. “I’ll just reference chicken. It’s the closest one, I bet.”

Undyne mumbles her way out again, and Aofil can see her taking position through the door. Her wrist flexes, and as she throws her arm down, a long, blue, and crackling spear forms. “Listen here, you overgrown little bug!” She points the spear forward menacingly. “I’m gonna-” She’s forced to dodge Muffin hopping up on her. “No! You have to wait until I’m done with-” She dodges again. “Stop it!”

“So yeah,” Aofil moves their eyes away from the dance of dodging, “I was wondering if you could whip up a spider translator of sorts for Muffin.”

Alphys only hears the last words. “Hm?” she voices. “A what?”

“A spider translator, or something, for Muffin,” Aofil repeats with a finger pointed towards Muffin who’s jaw is wrapped firmly around Undyne’s spear.

“Get off!” she tries to command while tugging left and right, swinging Muffin around like a rag doll.

“Oh!” Alphys shakes her head. “No, no I can’t.”

“Oh.” Aofil nods to themselves. “I see.” This might prove harder than they imagined. If Alphys can’t, then that pretty much means that no one can. No one that Aofil knows of, that is. Perhaps someone that they don’t know knows though? Perhaps Mettaton might be persuaded to give up another tinkerer’s name? That would mean doing something to get another stamp on their banned card. Shouldn’t be too difficult if they bring Muffin.

“I’ve already loaned it away today, so you’ll have to wait.”

Aofil blinks. “Sorry?”

“Papyrus came over earlier today and asked if he could loan it for the day,” Alphys repeats with some confidence slinking back into her voice. “He needed it for something. I think it was about cleaning.”

“Oh.” Aofil turns around so that they’re facing where Papyrus’ house would be if Alphys’ wasn’t in the way. “You think he’s home now?”

“S-should be, I guess. Don’t see why he would loan it and then not use it.”

“Good point.” So yeah. “I’m off to Papyrus then.” Aofil points towards the very wrinkly bag. “You got your doughnuts, and the thanks from Muffet, so I’ll let you get back to your nothing.”

Alphys nods, immensely relieved. “Y-yeah, I will.”

Wait! Aofil just remembered. “Before I go, a question about my house. Well, actually a couple.”

Alphys nods again, her newfound relief rapidly draining. “Y-yes?”

“I used the voice command button to tell it to turn around.”

“D-did it work?” Alphys braces herself for a heavy ‘no’.

“Yes.”

She exhales calmly.

“But.”

And inhales sharply.

“It became scared because Muffin was inside of it. I was just wondering why you programmed fear into my house.”

“Ha!” Undyne’s voices her entrance with a loud scoff. “Told you that it was inverted, Alphee!” 

Muffin does his best to escape the magical rope tied around his legs. Undyne keeps him at distance though, but only for a short while. She swings the spider back and forth. “Aofil! Catch!”

A trail of arching spit follows Muffin’s parabolic trajectory, and splashes shortly after his ungraceful landing onto the hardwood floor. He bounces a couple of times before rolling into the pink hatstand, knocking over a pink and yellow coat that gently covers his disoriented head.

Aofil looks back at Undyne, having followed Muffin’s awkward descent after taking a step aside. They throw up a befuddle hand.

Undyne throws one up herself. “Why didn’t you catch him?”

“I’d throw out my back if I did. He weighs a tonne, Undyne. It would be like catching a wrecking ball. His hairs would stab me right through my chest!”

Undyne blows her lips, and throws her hand dismissively towards Aofil. “And what will your precious baker say when she finds out about this? It might squander your chances with her, Aof. No more free doughnuts for you! Ngahahaha!”

Aofil’s brow furrows hard, and a half disgusted expression blossoms on their face. “My what?”

“I’m not stupid, Aofil!” Undyne flashes a cocky smile. “I’ve seen the way Muffet looks at you, how she discounts your food, and how she lets you take care of her pet.”

Aofil’s eyes roll so hard they almost spin out of their skull. “Lay off the anime, Undyne.”

“Ha!” As if. “Your house being scared of the spider proves it!”

“Remember to stretch after your mental gymnastics, Undyne.”

“Alphee made the remote so that it transfers your personality through to the house. It’s yours, after all.”

“But it was scared,” Aofil feels the need to remind with a condescending motion of their head and an even more condescending tilt of their head.

“Yes!” Undyne nods, her smile growing even bigger. “That’s because Alphys made it inverse! Didn’t you, Alphee?”

She averts her eyes.

Undyne points with her open palm towards the blushing lizard. “See? I’m completely right!”

“Sure,” Aofil lies.

“How long are you keeping that freak by the way, Aof?”

“A week or so, why?”

Undyne rolls her shoulder. “Was good exercise, unlike some humans that are supposed to be stronger.” She winks none too subtly with both her eyebrows over to Aofil. “You can’t spar to save your life, Aofil!”

“And you can’t hold a poker face to save your raise, Undyne,” Aofil retorts while patting their pant pocket where their wallet is. “I’ve still got some spare change from last time, you know?”

Her face drains into a stubborn pout. She summons a small spear in her hand that she tosses towards Aofil halfheartedly.

Aofil smacks it out of the air. “Would you stop throwing stuff at me, Undyne?”

“Impressive! Might be hope for you yet!” She laughs all the way out the patio door, and even more once she’s outside.

Aofil shakes their head. “I’m off to the skelebros then.” They nod goodbye to Alphys, who nods back. “Can’t be worse than this, or what happened to my house.”

Alphys struggles to hide her cough.

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees. “Shouldn’t really be tempting fate like this, should I?”

The doorbell sings a very melodic tune as Aofil pushes it. They take a step back, just in case, and lift Muffin out of the way as well. His legs are still shackled by Undyne’s magic, but Aofil is not in a hurry to get them off. They have some semblance of control over him now, which is far more than they could ever wish for.

The door is not as much opened as it is pushed out by Sans leaning against it. He slides down until flat on the ground with his face facing down into the welcome mat adorned with Papyrus’ visage.

“Hi, Sans,” Aofil greets.

“aof,” Sans greets back. “good to see you.”

“Down to earth today, I see.”

“heh.”

“How are you?”

“tired.”

Aofil can see that. “So you’re kissing your brother good night, or something? I think Papyrus would appreciate it more if you did it to his real face rather than this mat that, I’m guessing, a lot of people have stepped on. Might want to brush your teeth after you get up from it.”

Sans angles his head up, his eyes narrowed hard. “what do you mean by that, exactly?”

“What you’re thinking of now is all in your head, Sans. Not mine.”

He shrugs, “just wanted to be sure,” and lies his face down again.

“Any reason why you don’t nap on a sofa, bed, or hammock?”

“well, i was, but then there was this human who wanted to come in.”

“Yes, yes.“ Aofil waves it away. “Do you mind if I step over you? Can’t come in otherwise.”

“will i have the sun on me if you do?”

Aofil looks behind them, but the sun is not visible. “I don’t-” A sweeping breeze interrupts them.

“found it!” Sans shouts from somewhere inside the house. “it was right here by the window.”

That’s where it usually is, yes, but Aofil’s not in the mood for arguing semantics right now. They’re here for Papyrus, and judging by the sound of a working vacuum from upstairs, he’s probably doing his cleaning right now.

“Papyrus?” they ask after knocking on the door from where the cleaning is emanating. 

“NO, THAT’S THE DOOR, AOFIL! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM JUST BEHIND IT! TO OPEN IT YOU-”

Aofil opens it without hearing the instructions, much to Papyrus’ surprise. “I know how to use a door, Papyrus. Don’t worry.”

“THEN WHY DID YOU KNOCK?” Papyrus pats his foot on the power button on the vacuum, and it dies off with a sad whir. “IF YOU DID KNOW, THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST ENTER?”

“Because...” Aofil meets Papyrus’ stare to determine if he’s joking. He’s not. Quite inquisitively, to be perfectly honest. Leaning against the hose with one elbow, and with the other hand firmly planted against his side, Papyrus descends deep into thought. “Because I wanted to be nice and not interrupt you?”

“YOU FELT THAT YOU HAD TO BE NICE BECAUSE I WASN’T ENOUGH?”

“Oh! No! No! No!” Aofil waves their hands in a state of building panic. They did not mean it like that! “Of course not, Papyrus.”

“I’VE TOLD YOU BEFORE, RIGHT?”

“Yes.”

“AND YOU DID GET MY LETTERS ABOUT ALWAYS BEING WELCOME?” Papyrus’ voice is on the cusp of wavering, dangerously so.

“Yeah, I did.” All a hundred of them. “I just wanted to be nice back, you know?”

Papyrus nods. “I SEE! HOWEVER, YOU STILL HAD TO KNOCK, WHICH MEANS THAT I’VE NOT COMMUNICATED TO YOU AS WELL AS I THOUGHT!”

“Could just be that I didn’t hear it properly?” Aofil retorts, as friendly as they can be. “Fault could be on my side here.”

Papyrus shakes his head, which isn’t a surprise to Aofil. “YOU HAVE ACTUAL EARS, AOFIL, WHOSE FUNCTION IS TO HELP YOU HEAR BETTER! IT MAKES MORE LOGICAL SENSE FOR ME HAVING NOT COMMUNICATED TO YOU LOUD ENOUGH THAN MILLIONS OF YEARS OF EVOLUTION FAILING AT JUST THAT MOMENT! STATISTICALLY, IT’S ABSURDLY UNLIKELY!”

Is it logical? Aofil’s not sure. They don’t get a lot of time to give it any thought though, as Papyrus excuses himself to pass by Aofil. “I KNOW JUST THE THING TO SOLVE THIS CONNIVING CONUNDRUM!” Before Aofil can ask him where he is going, they feel a subtle wind behind them.

“you know that big spider you brought with you?”

“Yes?” Aofil turns around while Papyrus hurries down the stairs and down the basement. “What abo-”

Sans nods as Aofil sees the reason. “it’s kinda eating my leg at the moment. it’s not a calf that’s he’s munching on. well, technically it is, but technicalities don’t stop it from hurting.”

Muffin looks over to Aofil for a split second before returning his eyes to the slobbered leg.

“Must be the ketchup and such that caught his scent. Does it hurt?”

“yeah, it does.” Sans nods down to the spider sucking loudly on his leg. “you’ve ever had your skeleton munched at?”

“Can’t say I have, no.”

“well, that’s about how much it hurts.”

“Not that much since you’re still standing and not making a lot of effort to remove him.” Aofil nudges Muffin with their foot. He seems pretty stuck where he is.

“not in the mood of also having my fingers bitten off too, thank you very much. what else am i gonna use as a pillow?”

Aofil goes down on one knee as they try and coax Muffin away from Sans. “A pillow, perhaps?”

“that you feel a need to talk back at me like this in my time of need, aof.”

Aofil itches Muffin on the spot behind his temple they found earlier at lunch. Muffin collapses in a satisfied sigh, his tongue sliding down Sans’ leg slowly as it’s wrapped around, much to his dismay.

“there’s a towel on the hand rail which pap uses to clean off after he’s waxed philosophical, can you hand it to me, please?”

Aofil reaches over and hands the towel to Sans along with a befuddle look.

“it saves on buying bottles and it still gets the job done. feel for yourself.”

Aofil drags their finger on the metal hand rail. To their surprise it’s like dragging through fine silk. “I’ll be damned.”

“why are you here, by the way?” Sans asks after having shortcutted to the downstairs sofa. The small gust from his magic wakes Muffin up, and he looks around confused as his snack has up and gone. Aofil gives him a tickle behind his temple again before he catches scent of Sans again and decides to dive bomb from the top of the stairs.

“Alphys told me Papyrus had her spider translator.” Aofil keeps rubbing on the hand rail. It’s so soft, they don’t want to stop. “I need to ask Muffin some question which is why I need it.”

“what kind of questions?”

“Those kind that you ask,” Aofil replies with snark. Maybe they can bait something out of Sans while they’re at it. “Or do you monsters have other forms of questions?”

“oh yeah, plenty.” Sans nods after boring his finger against the side of his skull. “but i seem to have misheard you there. must’ve been some gunk in my ear, but to me it sounded like you didn’t answer my question at all. weird, isn’t it?”

“Maybe you should use your dripping sarcasm as a washing up for your shirt there, Sans?” Aofil shoots over a proud smile. “I just want to ask Muffin about some stuff, that’s all.”

“oh!” Sans winks. How he does it still sits weird with Aofil. “i see. some questions about a certain other spider, perhaps? maybe her favorite kinds of flowers?”

Oh for God’s sake! “You too with this?”

“i can suggests some arachnodisiacs.”

No. Just no. “No.” No. Stop. “Stop, Sans.”

Where the hell did Papyrus go?

“DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE COLOR YOU WANT YOUR INGRESS TO BE, AOFIL?”

Aofil leans over the wooden railing. They’re met with Papyrus knocking on a door in his arms. A variety of buckets filled with an equally varied selection of paints dangle haphazardly above the white carpet underneath him. “My what?” Aofil asks carefully as to not prompt a reaction big enough that would cause some stained spillage.

“YOUR DOOR! WHAT DO YOU WANT IT TO BE? PINK, LIKE YOUR CHEEKS? RED LIKE YOUR EYES?”

“don’t we have enough doors, pap? one for the front lawn hammock, and one for the back lawn hammock.”

“EXACTLY!” Papyrus turns around, swinging the door wide with him, as well as the buckets. Aofil feels their breath stop as they watch the liquid stop but an inch away from the rim. “ONE DOOR FOR YOU, AND ONE FOR ME! WE DON’T HAVE ONES FOR OUR FRIENDS TO USE! HOW CAN WE EXPECT THEM TO FEEL WELCOME IF THEY DON’T HAVE THEIR OWN DOOR TO BE WELCOMED INTO?”

Sans shoots a glance up to Aofil, who joins him in a bemused shrug. They should probably drag him off this idea before the entire house gets covered in doors. “But wouldn’t I feel more welcomed if you granted me the use of your own means of ingress?”

“YOU HAD TO KNOCK THOUGH, AOFIL!” Papyrus reminds with an upraised finger. The door tilts down to the side from him letting go of it, and Aofil again watches in horror as the paints flows up to the rims of their respective buckets.

“Yes, but that was my choice. I have a red soul, so if I start off with being polite I help you be more polite in return.”

Papyrus’ face freezes. He blinks. “AOFIL...”

Aofil can do nothing but silently scream as they see the doors and buckets slid out of Papyrus’ stunned mittens.

“YOU ARE MORE OF A FRIEND THAN I COULD EVER BE!”

The door bounces with a heavy thud, missing Papyrus’ toes just barely. Aofil snaps their eyes to the carpet, steeling themselves for the abstract masterpiece about to unfold, yet it remains as white as the fur on their arm, albeit with more door. The strands on the carpet sway as a panicked wind runs through it. Papyrus’ sewn face on the carpet moves like disturbed water. The sound of the leather sofa being depressed has Aofil breathing out with relief in stark contrast to Sans’ sharp breathing holding the buckets awkwardly in his arms.

“That’s good, Papyrus,” Aofil says after letting themselves calm down a bit. “But you know that you’re the best one.”

“THAT IS TRUE, AOFIL!” Papyrus steps one foot up on the knocked over door. “HOWEVER, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN NOT BE FRIENDS WITH MYSELF! THAT WOULD BE UNFAIR TO THE REST!”

Finally his logic makes sense, a bit at least.

“By the way,” Aofil remembers after bumping their foot into Muffin as they push away from gripping the railing with all their scared might. “The spider translator you borrowed from Alphys?”

“YES! I WILL FETCH IT! TELL ALPHYS THAT IT WORKS WONDERS, BUT THAT I’LL STICK TO CLEANING ON MY OWN!” He disappears underneath the second floor again. “IT TAKES TOO MANY TO HOLD JUST ONE MOP!”

“No, Muffin.” Aofil sweeps Muffin back with their leg. “Those are Papyrus’ spiders, they’re not for you to eat.”

The translator sits strangely in Aofil’s hand. They imagined it more as a collar of sorts, not really a speaker shaped like a spider. A small nibble at the back of their head say that the really should’ve guesses that it would be like this, to be honest. The bigger nibble on their leg will soon say his as well, and hopefully it will be something about Frisk’s birthday.

Once home again, Aofil puts the translator to use. They give Muffin some food and water so that’s hes more talkative. Or at least, that’s what Aofil is guessing, no, hoping. 

“JUST TAP IT ON WHICHEVER SPIDER YOU WANT TRANSLATED AND HOLD IT AGAINST ITS HEAD!” Papyrus instructed, so Aofil does just that. Their first attempt is met with an open mouth, but a quick hush from Aofil has Muffin closing it again.

The speaker sparks to life as it touches the rough skin of Muffin. After a second or so, loud panting emerges from it.

Nice, seems to be working.

“Muffin.”

The speaker goes quiet. Guess Aofil caught Muffin’s attention.

“What is Muffet baking for in the Underground?”

“Blerf! Spru! Rarghl! Prrtf blugr!”

Aofil blinks.

“Raigguihu! Blatehezu, guayhju! Blpp-”

Aofil removes the speaker.

They blink again.

“What else did you expect?”


	128. Life over tea

“Your pen.” Asriel spins the spider web etched pen between his fingers just outside the kitchen window. “Thought you might want it back.”

With an inviting wave, Aofil motions for Asriel to enter. “Didn’t have to give it back right now.” They send Muffin on his way by throwing a dog toy into the living room. It bounces with a few squeaks which are followed by a very loud and painful one as Muffin catches it. “And judging by your contemplative posture that’s not why you’re here for.”

“I know.” Asriel flicks the pen onto the kitchen table. “It was a better excuse than the one Frisk gave to me though.”

“About wha-”

“Just...” Asriel puts up his hand for Aofil to stop, “don’t. I know Frisk have talked to you about their birthday.”

Oh... Well, Aofil tried. “Just you?”

“Well,” Asriel takes a seat, “it’s was kinda obvious that they would talk to you about it. We all knew, but we didn’t know exactly, you know?”

Aofil takes a seat as well to get more blood into their head to process that sentence.

“I mean, who else would they talk to?” Asriel poses while stretching his arms out sideways. He throws one arm back towards Aofil. “You’re you, the closest Frisk has to a human parent.”

Woah! “Alright there.” Aofil coughs up some uncomfortable chuckles. “Let’s,” their head cocks involuntarily to the side, “let’s calm down a bit now here.”

“I said closest. All the way across five countries is still closer than ten countries,” Asriel explains while motioning over the horizon. “I’m not saying that you are like a parent to Frisk, just the closest human one.”

“Still,” is also what Aofil wishes their racing heart would be now. “Not again, please.” This might’ve taken a couple of years off their life. God damn…

“Here’s the thing,” Asriel leans back into his chair with his arms folded, “we all know that Frisk knows, and we also all know that they’ve talked to you. It’s Frisk, keeping a secret from them is pretty difficult since, you know, they’re Frisk.”

Got a point there.

“So,” Asriel continues with a small twirl of his wrist, “we all know in our soul that they know, but we don’t in our head since we haven’t asked them about it. Us monsters being made out of our soul and all that, yadda, yadda, yadda.” He points a finger on himself. “I know my sibling,” he moves the finger over to Aofil, “and they have talked to you about their eighteenth birthday.”

“And what if they haven’t done that?” Aofil proposes carefully.

“Then you’re a liar,” Asriel answers with a shrug. “Simple as that.”

“Fine, fine.” Aofil throws their hands up. “Guess the jig is up. What is it to you then? Surprise ruined?”

“Oh no, not at all. Like I said, I’ve always known. Mom and dad are also probably gonna ask you to be a part of the celebration, just a heads up.”

Aofil is struck by a thought that furrows their brow. “Is it egoistic of me that I kinda already knew that I was invited.” They scoff. “Could be you..” They immediately regret lifting their hand to point at their patch of fur. “Sorry.”

Asriel is forced to close his eyes and exhale deep. “It’s fine,” he says while lifting his eyebrows as his eyes stay closed. He smacks his lips before opening his eyes again. “Anyways, not as a guest as usual, but to help out with the party.”

“Sure,” Aofil feels that they have to make up for that blunder. “Should be fun. Always a treat to see what the gang decides to cook up. If they want my help as well I’m guessing it’s gonna be a pretty big one.”

“It’s gonna be in the Underground.”

Oh…Oh. Oh! “Why?”

Asriel blows his lips while heaving a heavy shrug. “As if I know. Well, I do, but it doesn’t make me less conflicted about it. I don’t know know as I now know you knowing that Frisk knows, but I know in my soul that it’s gonna be in the Underground.”

Aofil might need to hang upside down to get enough blood now.

“I’ve been around monsters enough to know that feeling conflicted is as common as any other emotion.” Aofil points to their kettle. “Tea, by the way?”

Asriel nods. “Golden Flower, if you have.”

“As if your father would let me run out.” Aofil’s chuckles is mirrored by Asriel. It could be his part in Aofil’s soul, but it feels really good seeing Asriel smile every once in a while. “Kettle,” they address after a whistle. “Two cups, please. Golden Flower.”

Asriel keeps his head turned while the kettle waltzes carefully over to the faucet. It can’t quite reach the handle, and almost stumbles into the sink as it stretches itself out to reach it. After some help from a couple of utensils it finally manages to get some water into itself. With two long steps it gently saunters over to the flower painted jar and scoops a couple of helpings. Finally it sits down on the stove, which turns on after a couple of electric flickers for the gas.

Asriel turns back around. “How long did it take for you to get used to this?” he asks curiously before turning back around. “Will the cups also have legs?”

“Only if I ask specifically when it comes to utensils and such,” Aofil answers. “One of the few things I’ve managed to slip by Undyne to Alphys about. The forks and knives had a tendency to wrap their legs around my wrist so that I wouldn’t drop them. Problem was that the mere act scared me enough to drop them. You don’t have any at your place?”

Asriel shakes his head as he observes the kettle appearing to have some small talk with the toaster. Its lid flaps as if laughing, causing steam to puff out of it like smoke signals. “No, we don’t. Pretty sure Alphys never dared to ask. We have a dish washer though so it isn’t too bad.”

“Still not entirely sure if they have emotions or not,” Aofil has to say. “Alphys says no, but as you saw earlier.” Aofil stamps the floor a couple of times. “Sometimes I do wonder how stretched that truth is. Any mention of it is like a hurried summon of Undyne, so much so that I’m almost surprised that she hasn’t burst through a window by now.”

“I heard she did that the first time you met them. Chased you down Mt. Ebott and then climbed inside.”

Aofil nods with a nostalgic smile. “Lots of things have happened in the shadow of that damn mountain.” It drains a bit as time unfolds in their mind. “Lots of...things.” It eventually sends a shiver up Aofil’s spine that forces them to squirm in their chair to get rid of it. “How’s your mental image of it, Asriel?”

The kettle whistles behind Asriel, and he turns around. The kettle presents its handle, and Asriel looks back to Aofil with a perplexed expression. Aofil nods, and Asriel takes the kettle carefully off the stove plate. He also takes the two cups handed to him by some of Aofil’s cutlery.

“Before Chara fell I only saw the inside of Ebott,” Asriel begins as he pours some tea for himself and Aofil. He hands Aofil their cup, and takes a biscuit presented to him. He halts it an inch from his lips as he spots Aofil’s furrowed expression. “What is it?”

Aofil tilts their biscuit around. “I don’t remember buying these.” They sample it. “Doesn’t taste like Muffet’s cooking either.”

“Maybe your kitchen baked them?” Asriel offers as an explanation while feeling less hungry for some reason.

“Could be,” Aofil agrees while also putting their biscuit down.

“So yeah.” Asriel rinses his mouth with some tea. “Didn’t get a good look when Chara and I...did our thing. Was also only interested in the Barrier when I was Flowey.”

“But then when you came back?”

“Took me a while before I could muster up the courage to look at it.” Asriel’s gentle sigh has the smoke from his tea dance around. “It was a clear night when I first did. Frisk and I were stargazing on dad’s roof. What was it, a couple of weeks after I came back?”

“Without Toriel’s knowledge?” Aofil hazards as a guess.

Asriel nods, amused. “A lot of things that she doesn’t know, which is for the better. Dad’s not stupid, as I said before.”

Aofil nods to that, despite not recalling the difference between dumb and stupid that Asriel and Frisk explained.

“We had a laptop next to us which we used to check where the constellations and planets were in the sky. That night a comet was passing.” Asriel runs the back of his hand across his eye. “I’d always wanted to see one. I...” His cup starts shaking in his hands. “I promised Chara we would find one together.”

He coughs a pained sob, and immediately protest against it, sucking back the air he coughed out violently. Aofil allows him a moment to compose himself.

“And there I was sitting without them, on the Surface that we promised to get back to together, staring up into the night sky that they talked so much about. It only hit me once I swung that telescope around, and saw the glistening tail arching over the top of Ebott as if it was a halo.”

Asriel stands up with his fist balled hard at his sides. He bends his neck up, but it doesn’t help. Crying, he sinks back into his chair with his head in his hands. He drags one long sob that’s conjoined with a heavy exhale. His palms rub together unnervingly when he removes them, exposing two dark streaks that run down his cheeks. “If Frisk hadn’t been there I would’ve rolled down the roof like a ball of tears and snot.” His scoff sends the remaining tears in his eyes into his tea. He doesn’t notice. “I’m glad I caught a glimpse of the comet though. When Frisk finally calmed me down enough to look at it again it was gone. Just a few sparkles left that disappeared when I dried my drops of tears away from the lens.”

Asriel’s sigh is as shaken as his tea. “Crying like I always do.”

“Sorry if I reminded you,” Aofil offers as an apology. They know they don’t need to, but they also know that Asriel hearing it will make him feel at least somewhat better.

“It’s fine.” Asriel closes his eyes and breathes out carefully after drinking some more tea. “But thanks. It still lingers in my head every time I look at it or it’s mentioned. All the memories of Chara, me, Flowey, you to a degree, Frisk, everything. One nibble I could probably ignore, but it’s like an entire ant colony chittering about inside my head. It’s gone quieter over the years though, which I’m extremely thankful for. Being a prince and all that has kinda replaced it though, so there’s that.”

“Is it really that bad being a prince?” Aofil asks a bit too accusingly. They clear their throat.

“No, it’s not,” Asriel admits while folding his arms on top of each other, and laying his forehead on them. Aofil’s surprised his muzzle isn’t touching the table. Asriel sends a heave of tired into the table. “It’s really not, compared to everything else,” he continues with his head hidden behind a fence of arms. “You already know why though, Aofil, so can I please not repeat myself about this? It’s not really something I want to do right now.”

“Fine. I feel like maybe you should try and see things from the bright side more though. It’s hard though, God knows that I do.” Aofil leans back with their cup firmly inside their palms. “Despite being monster and human, we’re not so different, you and I.”

Asriel lifts his head up with his eyes fixated on Aofil’s arm.

“Besides that.” Aofil rolls their sleeve up so that it covers their patch of fur. “We both had Chara as a sibling, we both spent some time away from the monsters despite them being our family, and we’ve both...well,” Aofil moves their cup up to their mouth, “killed them.”

Their sip is loud.

“Difference being that you saved them, Aofil.”

“You’re the one that didn’t want to bring that up again, Asriel,” Aofil reminds with their pinky finger extended towards him from the cup’s ring. “And you did save them, you know you did. We’ve been over this before, but if we have to again then let’s go over it again.”

Asriel puts his head back down again. “Let’s not, please.”

The silence that’s formed is a bit awkward, both Asriel and Aofil are a bit taken back by this. They didn’t really plan for it to actually be quiet. All that’s audible is the soft whirring of the kettle making small talk with the cutlery on the far side of the table.

“It did get better,” Asriel says after a minute of quiet, still with his forehead resting on his arms. “The more I came to terms with being alive, being able to feel again, and not flinching and trying to burrow down into the ground every single time a shadow poured over me, the more I could look at Ebott with less of a frown.”

What? What did he say? “Burrow?” He can’t be serious. “You tried to burrow?” Aofil is forced to fight back a smile forming.

Asriel’s arms lift and sink as an embarrassed sigh finds its way through gaps between his arms. “Yes, I did. I hit my muzzle on door frames more times than I could count as well.”

“Scraped your horns as well?” Aofil pries.

“No, when they started to form I was used to being myself again.”

“You might give Asgore a run for his money once they’ve done growing.” Aofil taps the back of their skull. “You gave me some large ones when we fused.”

Asriel lifts his disgusted head up from his arms. “You sound so…not incredibly uncomfortable saying that, Aofil.” He shakes his head. “Why?”

“It’s just so,” Aofil blows their lips, “absurd, thinking back on it all. I don’t know if it’s a good thing, could be that I’m trying to distance myself from it, or that, you know, I’ve given up on making sense of it. It’s not really a human weekend past time to do the things I’ve done, and the absurdity has sorta come into the light now that I’ve come back. I never want to do it again in my entire goddamn life, make no mistake of that, but once your house starts arguing with your neighbor, standing up as it does, you kinda come to realize that shit’s all whack and that the only real thing you can do is scoff and roll your eyes at it. As you said though, it still nibbling at the back of my head constantly.” They swirl the tea in their cup. “One day at a time.”

“Another bullet point to add to the list of our similarities.”

“Friendliness points?” Aofil shoots over with a proud smile.

They get a harsh and furrowed brow back that screams murder.

“Sorry,” Aofil apologizes timidly before drinking some more tea with their eyes lowered.

Again a heavy silence is conjured like a thick blanket, smothering any and all conversation for the time being. Aofil does admit to themselves that they might’ve overstepped a bit there with the friendliness. He seemed so not broody earlier today when he was filming Aofil’s house, so what’s changed during these couple of hours? Him figuring out that Aofil knows about Frisk knowing can’t be this detriment, can it?

Yes, monsters live on love and hope, but it can’t be this prominent.

Maybe Aofil should try and change the subject.

They beckon for their kettle. “More tea?”

“I’m good.”

Aofil shoos the kettle back. “You wouldn’t mind asking Asgore to prepare another batch of Golden Flower tea? I have a friend that’s recently moved in here in Monster City that I’m visiting for some housewarming. Golden Flower tea would be a great gift.”

“I’ll ask him. Do you want me to ask with mom nearby so that she bakes a pie for the occasion?”

Aofil hadn’t even thought of that. Seems a bit manipulative though. On the other hand, Toriel’s pies. “Will you think less of me if I say yes, Asriel?”

He shakes his head. “No, I was the one proposing so I can’t really be mad at you for that, now can I?”

“I mean, you can.”

“Do you want me to?” Asriel challenges with a stern expression.

“No, point taken.”

“Then expect Toriel to ask you about the housewarming next time you see her.”

“I will, thank you.”

Asriel nods while finishing the last of his tea. He puts it down while holding it in both of his hands, slowly tapping one claw against the cup. The kettle takes it as an invitation, and joyfully saunters over to fill his cup. He doesn’t notice until the cup’s half full. “No thanks,” he says with a smile. The kettle cocks its spout up to him, tilting back to catch the drop dangling off the edge. “I’m fine.”

The kettle looks at Aofil for clarification, but Aofil isn’t sure what more it is to be clarified. The kettle looks back at Asriel for a short beat before it fills the rest of his cup quickly and then bolts across the table.

“Definitely emotions,” Asriel states.

“Eyup, that kinda seals the deal for the millionth time.”

Asriel swirls his newly filled cup with a sigh before drinking some. “So yeah, speaking of human parents.”

“I told you that I-”

“Yours, and Chara’s.”

Aofil recoils back. “Oh.” Their brow furrows, hard. “But why?”

Asriel throws his shoulders up into a haphazard shrug. “You didn’t talk about them like Chara did, and it’s been another fresh nibble ever since.”

“Well, Chara and I came from two completely different families despite it being the same.” Aofil leans back with their cup firmly in their hands. “Same parents, yet still not. I’ve nothing but good memories about them.” A dark shadow emerges on their face as their mind screams at them that it is a lie. “Well, when they were alive, that is.”

Asriel looks down into his tea that he didn’t ask for. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Call it my equivalent to you looking at Mt. Ebott, Asriel. Me moving away that day was not all because of you and the other monsters. It had also dug up things about my family. Everything except literally. Same impact as if they were dug up literally though, if not worse.” Aofil sips some tea, the taste and warmth spreading around them and subduing the chill sent out from their spine just a little. “I might visit them soon again. I haven’t done it since you and I did it last time. Gotta tell them I’m back with you monsters, bring them some flowers.”

“Do...” Asriel hates himself for asking. “Is it alright if I follow this time too? I’d...I’d like to ask them a few things about Chara.”

“Don’t ask me this now, Asriel.” Aofil exhales while dragging their hand across their forehead to move away some of their fringe. “Later.”

He nods. “Yes, thank you.”

“It’s fine.”

Again a silence only slightly broken by the kettle and cutlery bouncing joyfully with their knees falls upon the kitchen. The gentle swirling of tea inside a porcelain cup is not enough to completely break it completely, and Asriel cranes his neck back as he sighs heavily.

“There’s this other thing too.”

Aofil looks up from their tea. “Hm?”

“The...reason I went over here.”

The reason? Wasn’t that to inform about Frisk’s birthday? Come to think of it, that kinda just up and disappeared in their conversation, didn’t it? Aofil feels a bit intrigued by this, why did Asriel then come over?

Guess they’re about to find out.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to spar again. Properly, this time.”

Is that a jab at Aofil?

“And by that I don’t mean that we should fight,” Asriel makes clear after a calming motion of his hand. “Not that I can muster the magic to begin with,” he adds under his breath while clenching his fist. “A friendly spar. I have to test something that I felt earlier today. It might just be nothing, and it probably is, but if I have a chance to remove a nibble from the back of my mind, then I’ll take it.”

Aofil sits with their elbow in their palm across their stomach with their cup tapping their lips in thought.

“If that’s alright with you, that is. I have some staffs with me that we can use. Padded.”

“I mean, it’s fine by me. I don’t really know what it is you want to prove by wiping the floor with me again.”

“If I do then that will ease my mind as well. I don’t mean that to be an insult to you, Aofil.” Asriel retracts his outstretched hand timidly. “That’s how it sounded like though.”

Aofil puts down their cup and beckons the kettle over. “Clean up,” they order as they stand up. “I’m just gonna fetch some appropriate clothes first,” they inform Asriel. “Just leave your cup and the kettle should take care of it.”

The kettle nods to Asriel, who smiles. It drains as the thought of why he smiled strikes him. Aofil chuckles. 

“Don’t worry, I felt the same before as well.”


	129. Spurred sparring

“That’s...”

“Yes.” Aofil moves their hands over their yellow and pink colored sport clothes laden with Mikkarama shaped creatures in various states of overly joyed. “It’s the only ones I have which I don’t need to wash. The rest are in the dryer at the moment. Undyne gave them to me in hopes that some of her magic and fighting capability would transfer over to me.”

Asriel looks over across the yard towards Undyne’s house. “So like, hand me downs?”

“That’s what I asked her as well. Did she use these herself before giving them to me? Turns out that no, no she didn’t.”

“They don’t fit.”

“I know.” Aofil nods. “I know.” They take with them the staff Asriel left behind leaning against the house wall. “If I’m lucky, the house jumping around as it did helped the spin cycle rather than outright destroyed it so that this will be the one and only time I wear these.”

Aofil takes position across from Asriel. “So, how do you want to go about this? Pretty sure you’ve managed a bit further in Undyne’s training than I have, so no advanced stuff if you want to keep it fair.”

Asriel bounces the staff in his hands while his mouth pouts from side to side. “How much has she managed to get through to you?”

Aofil’s not sure how to take that. “Is that your or her words?”

“Her words.”

“Right.” Of course she’d say it like that. “Well,” Aofil spins their staff back and forth between their thumb and index finger, being very careful so that it doesn’t drill into their lawn, “I think she’s done the basics, at least. I haven’t really moved along quickly since I’m not as young as you, Asriel, but she’s complimented me once or twice, although if she was being sarcastic when she said that I’m still mulling about.”

Asriel nods. “I see. Maybe if we just start off easy and work our way up, and you’ll tell me when you feel that we’ve reached your skill ceiling?”

Aofil returns the nod. “Sure.” They swipe their foot backwards at an angle to get themselves into position. Almost two full days of doing nothing but that was effective in teaching Aofil that, they have to admit as much. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hey!” comes a commanding voice from across a couple of houses. “Warm up first, you two! You can’t spar if you’re as stiff as your staffs! Ngah! Haven’t I taught you two anything?”

That’s a very good idea, actually. 

“And keep it clean!” Undyne shouts over as well. “I’ve got places to be now so I can’t judge, but if I come back to Aofil wringing in pain you’re gonna get the worst workout in your life, Asriel! Legs, and the day after a marathon!”

“What if Asriel wrings in pain instead?” Aofil shouts back. “Same punishment with me?”

There’s a silent beat. Aofil amused smile drains into a unamused frown.

“Anyways, good luck you two! First one to stagger is a punk!” Undyne waves before heading inside her house. “Remember! Dirty clothes, clean fighting! Ngahahaha!”

Oh...she’s on thin really ice right now, but that’s for later. 

With a sigh, Aofil begins stretching, pulling their arms behind their head, one after the other. There’s some gentle popping from their elbows and shoulders, but that’s just another sign that warming up is a good idea. 

Asriel begins with his legs, squatting down on one leg while stretching his other to the side. His white fur bob as gently as Aofil’s does as he stretches. Side to side, up and down, frontside turn to backside turn.

He even does some push ups and sit ups, so Aofil has to as well. He manages them a bit quicker than Aofil, which does little to help their ego. They never thought they could keep up with him, but seeing it still reminds them that they’re not as in good a shape as they...well, they never were in good shape either…

Aofil does the rest of their warming up with a determined scowl summoned by their own shattered hubris in pieces like a porcelain jar being dropped from an airplane.

“You done?” Asriel asks while pulling his ankle up behind him. “Or do you need another minute or so?”

Geez! Aofil’s not that old! Just...a bit. It’s not like they have white hairs on their arm because they’re old. “Yes, just need to do my other leg and I should be done.”

“Same here.”

Once finished, Asriel kicks up his staff into his hands. His grip on it hardens as he finds the right distance between his hands, and he swipes his foot like Aofil did to get into the proper position. His posture lowers, bringing his center of gravity closer to the ground. One of his hands grips the staff over, and the other under, a shoulder’s width between the two. His knees gently rock up and down along with his calm breathing, lifting Undyne’s grinning facade on his tank top, and exposing a tuft of fur peeking over where the neck of his fabric ends. His brow is furrowed with complete focus, and the lips on his muzzle just barely expose the rows of teeth behind.

Aofil tugs a smile. “Yeah, you definitely know more than me.”

Their smile is quickly washed away as Asriel takes speed towards Aofil, the center of his staff taking strain against his shoulder. It’s obvious where and how he’s gonna strike, and Aofil puts their staff up vertical to block the wide swing. They take a step aside away when they see Asriel’s arms start to move, and the two wooden poles clash into each other with a loud whack.

Oh boy, he’s serious.

Aofil follows with the impact, stepping back to displace the energy. When they feel they can stand against it they dig their heel in, letting the energy out into the ground below, away from their body. They take a glance down as Asriel pulls back, and pout a bit as they see the muddied grass and small hole their heel did. 

Are they ever gonna have a proper lawn with everything that keeps happening? Maybe Asgore can suggest some-

They don’t get a lot of time to languish, as Asriel again swings his staff across. Aofil again blocks it, but this time they take a step forward before Asriel’s weight and momentum can plant itself into the block. His staff slides off, and he stumbles a few steps before managing to correct himself by using his staff as a crutch. Aofil allows themselves a brief moment of pride for managing that technique.

Aofil’s pout deepens as they see Asriel’s staff burrow into the ground. He pulls it out, dragging with him some black dirt.

He rolls his shoulder before readjusting his grip, this time with both hands gripping over the staff. He spins around, pushing the width of the staff against Aofil. They just barely manage to awkwardly put their staff between them and Asriel’s, and their knuckles bump against Asriel’s. After pushing away, Aofil shakes the pain off their hands one by one.

“You alright?” Asriel asks while stepping back.

“I’m fine,” Aofil blows on their right hand. “just lost focus, that’s all,” and then on their left hand.

Asriel nods. “Good.”

He returns back to the opposite side of Aofil’s lawn while using his staff as a walking stick. It’s not enough to uproot the grass which Aofil is thankful for. Once across from Aofil, Asriel takes a moment first to scratch his horns with his staff before gripping over and under again. “I’m gonna do a double swing now.”

Aofil bounces up on their toes. They’re gonna have to be flexible for this one.

Asriel again makes very short work of the distance between the two. He lays on Aofil’s side again with his staff, throwing it down at an angle. Aofil counters the blow, but before they can leverage the momentum Asriel shifts his body around, attacking against Aofil’s other side. The clack is like a very loud smack of the tongue as Aofil, in the absolute last second, moves their staff over to block the flanking strike.

Their arms are bent in an awkward angle, and they’re forced to strain their tendons instead of their muscles. They can only hold the block for a second before having to break away and pull their staff in towards themselves. Asriel follows through his strike, pushing Aofil away.

They clumsily shuffle away bent over with their arms outstretched should they fall. Aofil manages just barely to regain their balance, and they stretch their back out through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be able to block it.” Asriel says. “You want me to show how to shift your arms?”

“Yeah, sure.” Aofil press their hands up against their lower back. “Just give me a second here.” It doesn’t feel like they’ve injured themselves, which is good.

Asriel again strikes at Aofil’s side, but slowly. “You feel how your arms feel sturdy?” He pushes inwards with his staff. “That it goes into your shoulder and through your torso?”

Aofil nods.

“But when I move over here, and you follow like you do, your arm bends so that the impact pushes your shoulder back instead. See?”

Yeah, Aofil can feel that.

“While you move your staff, change grip. Let’s give it a try.”

Again slowly, Asriel strikes on one side, and then the other. Aofil follows along, switching the grip on their closest arm from an under to an over. They feel the hit plant itself more naturally into their body, spreading across their entire torso instead of just pushing back their shoulder and stretching it out to the point of hurting. “I think I got it.”

“Right.” Asriel again walks a couple of steps away. “Ready?”

Aofil nods. “Ready.”

Strike on one side, switch over, under to over grip, block the flanking strike, push away, exploit…No, not yet. Later.

“You wanna be on the offensive now, Aofil?” Asriel asks after resetting his position. “Has Undyne taught you the Punk Buster?”

“I...think so.” Undyne didn’t call it exactly that, but it should be the same. Aofil studies Asriel’s posture before they attack. He seems to be keeping his posture a bit higher than before. Maybe to be more flexible in his blocking? Aofil grips their staff.

Only one way to find out.

“Start off with swinging against the side he’s put the least weight on, make him question his own decision. If it hits, good, you got him! Ngah! If he blocks, move over to the other side. He should be busy shifting his weight to where you struck first so having to change back while his momentum is busy is gonna be real annoying for him. Again, if you hit him, great! If he somehow manages to block again, before he can settle into it and get comfy and believe that everything’s right in the world, take a step into him, really get up close like you’re gonna kiss him! Ngahahaha! Wiggle your eyebrows if you have to, do everything to open up even the slightest of opportunities. If you can, place the foot you step into with behind his, and then!”

Asriel falls flat on his back with a cough. He kept his chin up to not injure his head though. That was the first thing Undyne taught Aofil, so they’re not surprised that Asriel knew it. That he didn’t know about the Punk Buster despite him asking for it is a bit strange though.

“What was that?” he asks as he sits up before coughing away the last of his fall.

“It was the Punk Buster,” Aofil explains as they offer their hand.

Asriel takes it. “The Punk Buster doesn’t feature a tackle. It’s a side to side strikes followed by a grapple.”

Is it? “Is it? Undyne...Oh...Sorry.” Aofil clears their throat. “That was the Punk Fluster I did.”

“Fluster?” Asriel’s furrowed and slightly confused expression ask.

“Up close with your shoulder, face, everything. She even said that I should wiggle my eyebrows lustfully if I could to put my opponent off balance.”

Asriel’s not sure how to react to that.

“I had the same look as you when she first said it to me too.” Aofil looks over their shoulder into the house. Muffin is sitting curiously in the open window with his tongue hanging out surrounded by various appliances equally curious. “Some water for us, please.” Aofil asks. Muffin seems even more curious about the appliances jumping off him, and he follows them down from the window.

“It’s pretty hot,” Aofil explains. “Gotta re hydrate even if we’re not Undyne.”

Asriel follows Aofil over to the patio. “I can go for some water, thanks.” He seats himself in a chair folding itself open for him next to Aofil, after a second or two’s hesitation. He taps his staff down on the cement floor as he thinks.

Aofil hands over a tall glass to Asriel from the two their toaster brings out. “The thing you wanted to test? You got it yet?”

Asriel holds the glass down so that the kettle can fill it with ice cold water containing some slices of cucumber and lemon. There’s a hint of Golden Flower as well, and the water refreshes enormously.

“No,” he informs after a comforting exhale. “Not yet. There’s a few more things I have to test, sorry.”

Aofil sends over a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I can do so more sparring. Just need to drink some water and take a short breather. What is it you want to test, by the way?”

Asriel glances over to his hand that he flexes a couple of time before hiding it on his side facing away from Aofil.

Oh, his magic. Right, what Undyne suggested before, that Aofil and Asriel should spar. Maybe he’ll be able to get it this time now. He’s probably gonna suggest taking it up a notch, but Aofil should be able to handle at least one higher notch. They know at least one technique Asriel don’t, so if sparring push comes to sparring shove they might be able to counter at least a little. Should be enough to give the Boss Monster some resistance. Perhaps enough that his magic finally loosens up for him?

Aofil is a bit curious as to what kind of magic he’ll develop. He knows some fire magic since Aofil did some when Asriel fused with them.

Or perhaps it as their own magic?

“Did I hit your arm?” Asriel asks concernedly. “Why is it shaking like that? Your face is red too.”

“Oh.” Aofil waves their arm loose. “Just shaking it awake for it to not become stiff,” they lie with a plastered smile.

No, it wasn’t their own magic.

So, fire. Maybe some healing as well. Frisk explained something about swords, stars, rainbow launcher, and then something about him spinning his head around. Of all of that the latter part is what Aofil has some hesitation towards believing. Magic? That’s fine with them now after all they’ve seen. Spinning his head around without it hurting? Nah, that’s where the line is drawn. The monsters might be made out of magic, but they’re still hampered by the laws of physics.

Or laws of magic, as they called it during that time.

And Asriel spinning his head around without it snapping by the neck is against any form of law.

“You ready now?”

Aofil is knocked out of their thought. “Hm? Ready? Yeah, you wanna go again?”

“Yeah,” Asriel pushes himself up from his chair. He grabs his staff in the process, and stretches out his arms again behind his neck.

Aofil follows suit.

“Sorry, by the way.”

“Sorry for what?” Aofil asks as they turn around. The answer comes in the form of an overhead strike that Aofil just barely manages to block with their staff. Asriel’s not giving way either.

Something is-

Asriel slides his staff off Aofil’s, and follows through the momentum by spinning around and planting his foot into Aofil’s leg. They fall over, but the pain from it doesn’t get through to them. They immediately throw up their staff to glance off Asriel thrusting his staff down. The counter knocks the staff out of Asriel’s hand, and it bounces a couple of times before resting itself at the base of Aofil’s fence. Aofil then puts their staff horizontal against Asriel’s shoulders, and push him off.

“The hell are you doing, Asriel!”

He doesn’t answer, instead he leans back to grab the staff and follow through with rolling down on his back to either steal the staff away from Aofil or bring them down with him should they keep a grip on it. Aofil responds by shifting their staff vertically, leaving Asriel to grab naught but air. They tilt it so it doesn’t hit his face, and instead push away on his collar.

Asriel backs off, clutching his collar with his hand.

Aofil doesn’t follow through, their mind is occupied. It’s flooded, and is slowly draining. Images of themselves from another perspective. Thoughts of attacking themselves, and with what technique. Aofil clutches their temple.

Did they-

Their mind is flooded again. They see themselves hunched over with their hand against their head. They hear thoughts about how to strike themselves. It’s filled with intent, intent to...hurt. Intent to-

Aofil takes a sturdy step into Asriel’s path, lodging their shoulder deep into his stomach left exposed from him preparing another overhead strike. He crashes down hard on the ground, coughing violently. Aofil picks up his staff, and throws it as far away as they can.

The thoughts in their head start to fade, but some of it still linger. Thoughts of confusion, thoughts of fear. 

“It can’t be real!” they hear Asriel scream in their head. “No! It just can’t!”

And afterwards pain. Aofil bends over and coughs the same way Asriel did. Their stomach doesn’t hurt, but they still feel pain from it in their head.

Amid Asriel coughing from Aofil’s tackle there emerges some laughs from him as well. Pained laughs, cobbled together with him coughing. The mixture is a pain to listen to. 

“I knew it.”

Asriel takes a greedy breath before trying to push himself up. He collapses again with a hurtful grunt. 

“I knew it,” he repeats, quietly. “Of fucking course it’s like this. As if I could catch a goddamn break.”

With even more effort he pulls himself up so that he’s sitting with his back resting against Aofil’s fence. He grits his teeth as he sighs.

“Why did you attack me like that, Asriel?”

He chuckles to himself, and bends slightly over to steel himself against the pain of it. “You didn’t feel the reason?”

Aofil’s eyes widen. He knows Aofil felt it? H-how? What’s happening?

“Intent to hurt.” Asriel glances over to his staff laying way out of arm’s reach for him. “Makes a soul light up like lighting from a clear sky.”

“Did you really?”

“You felt it, didn’t you?”

What the hell is he doing? “Why?”

“Had to test.” Asriel draws a long inhale. He test to see if moving hurts, and it does a little. “Your soul is determined, Aofil.”

“Don’t fucking use that word, Asriel. Nothing good has ever come out of that word!”

“Frisk saved us monsters because of theirs.”

Aofil throws their hand down. “That’s their determination! Mine has never done anything good. Mine and-” Aofil throws their own staff away. “Dammit!”

“No, not theirs. Not Chara’s.”

Asriel puts his hand over his chest that he squeezes hard.

“Asriel,” Aofil throws a harsh point, “don’t!”

But it’s too late. In Asriel’s hand shimmers a white upside down heart. It bobs gently up and down in a slow rhythm.

“Asriel, put it back,” Aofil commands.

“You wanna know the reason why I came over?”

“No.” Aofil shakes their head hard. “I don’t want to if it involves you pulling out your soul like this.”

“When you commanded your house to sit down again earlier today, I felt myself.”

“You know why, Asriel.”

He shakes his head carefully. “It’s not because of my soul in yours. It’s too weak to be felt through your human soul, remember?” 

Aofil takes a step back. No… “Asriel, what are you implying exactly?”

“That the reason that I found another wrinkle on dad’s face isn’t because I am alive.” Asriel’s grip hardens on his soul. He recoils from it, but his hand stays wrapped tightly around it. “Tha-” He grunts loudly. “That the reason they’re getting older isn’t because I am alive! It’s because you are, Aofil.”

The white heart starts quaking as Asriel burrows his long nails into it. “It’s becau-” His entire body wrings from the pain.

Aofil runs over. They have to stop him. He can’t be-

The white soul cracks.

Aofil freezes. “No...”

Asriel’s hand balls into a fist as tiny shards of white shoot out between his fingers. His head slumps over.

“Asriel!”

His body convulses, and again, and again. Wait... Is he laughing? Crying as well. His neck cranes over the top of the fence. His thick tears run heavily down his cheeks. He takes a long breath through clenched teeth, and exhale it in a cough.

“I lied to everyone. Lied to them so much when I was in the Underground. Lied about who I was, what I was, why I was.”

Asriel offers his closed fist to Aofil.

“When I became Asriel I thought the lying was done, but it didn’t stop. If anything, I’ve been lying even more ever since. Especially to myself.”

Aofil’s eyes are locked hard on Asriel’s fist. “What’s in there, Asriel? What is your soul?”

“Not mine.”

He opens it, revealing not but a sliver of red. Like a single strand of crimson yarn it hovers in his palm.

“Yours.”


	130. Life on a thread

“I’m the owner of this house now. You will obey my commands from now on. All others are rendered null and shall be ignored.”

The kettle turns on its perplexed heels over to Aofil. It opens its flap just a bit before turning back to face Asriel again. It shakes itself, and a fork comes over to tap a couple of times on where the kettle should have its temple should it have a head.

“At least your appliances don’t believe that I’m you,” Asriel sighs out as he follows the kettle walking back to the sink with his eyes. “Silver lining. Better than the red one I got.”

“You’re not me, Asriel.” Aofil feels like they’ve said it a thousand times now. “I’m just as shocked and stunned about this as you are, but you are not me.”

“Monsters are made from their soul. We’re magic made manifest physically, powered by love, compassion, funneled through a catalyst that is our soul. I am my soul, and my soul is me. Or you, in this case. So who am I then, if not you? It’s like if you didn’t have your own DNA. That’s who you are built up from. Your body someone else’s, your brain someone else’s, and your memories someone else’s.”

Asriel is offered a towel in his trying times, as well as some polish. He’s not sure what to make of it. 

“He’s not waxing philosophical,” Aofil informs the borderline sarcastic cup. “Leave us alone for the time being.”

The cup shrugs its handle and jumps down from the table.

“Did Alphys base the personalities on Sans, or something?” Aofil mutters annoyed. “Although, that would have them lift less then a finger, so I guess not.”

A deep and lamenting sigh from Asriel reminds Aofil why they’re here. “Right.” They take a deep and calming breath. “The piece of my soul that you have Asriel, I’ve had it missing for longer than I had it in me. It’s not been mine for years. How it was still there I have no clue. It’s just...I don’t know, it’s been there waiting, I guess. I’ve no idea about all this soul business, and frankly, I don’t want to know anything. I’m not using it, and you are in need of it, so have it. It’s absolutely fine by me. It is not mine, it is yours. It has no connection to me, and I don’t want to hear anything stating otherwise.”

Aofil presents their patch of fur over the table. “It’s a fair trade, after all. Perhaps that’s not enough for you, so maybe we can trade? If you want we can ask Alphys to find a way to switch back? You get your sliver of soul back, and I get the piece inside you. Sounds good?”

“We can’t.” Asriel shakes his head inside his wall of arms. “And that’s not even beginning to think how the hell we’re gonna switch to begin with.” He lifts his head up and places his chin on his folded arms. “Pretty sure I’m only alive because it’s a human sliver of soul that’s inside me. Even a sliver is enough to keep a monster alive, apparently. I mean, we’ve always known to an extent that the difference would be enough, but I guess I’m literally a living proof. Another soul experiment for me to endure.”

“The only important word in what you said was ‘living’, Asriel. That’s the only thing relevant. You’re alive, you’re well, you’re you.” Aofil punctuates by tapping hard on the table with two of their fingers. “We’ll forget about this, pretend it never happened,” they offer with their open palm.

Asriel scoffs, sending his chin bouncing, almost clamping down on his lower lip as it falls down. “Pretend?” He nods. “So like, going on as usual?”

Oh for fuck-

Aofil pinches the bridge on their nose. “That’s not what I meant, Asriel, and you know that.”

“What did you mean by pretend besides pretending, Aofil?” Asriel is very eager to know as his brow sinks down over his eyes. “Pray tell how your human pretend differs from my monster pretend. Or is there even a difference to begin with now that I’m a monster with a human soul. No, not now, from when I came back. I didn’t even come back now, did I?” Asriel throws a vicious nod towards Aofil with eyes peering through anger and confusion. “I just materialized. I’m nothing of Asriel. I’m just an imitation, a mirage of what he was. I don’t even have the part of Flowey that was left from Asriel! That’s in you, Aofil! You’re more Asriel than I am!”

“Asriel-”

“No!” Asriel slams his hands down and pushes himself up on his feet. The chair falls over behind him, but is caught by the toaster making a heroic leap down from the counter. “I’m not Asriel! I’m not even Flowey! Mom and dad...Toriel and Asgore are growing older because of Asriel’s fragment inside you, Aofil. Not because their son is alive, not because he came back. I’m here, yes, but I’m not Asriel. I’m not the son that died in their hands. I’m not the scared child that broke the barrier.”

“Asriel, sit down.”

Asriel’s muzzle shakes, and it’s not long before his entire body shakes as well. His eyes starts watering. “I’m not even the one Frisk hugged...but I remember them hugging me. I remember their hands rubbing my back. All of the fear Flowey had, all of the fear Asriel had, for one moment, it was gone. I hugged Frisk back, I cried on their shoulder. For just a short moment I felt like things were alright with the world. For just a short while I couldn’t feel the weight of Mt. Ebott pushing down on me.”

“Asriel.” Aofil motions very carefully for his chair that the toaster is propping upright. “Sit down.”

“I’ve been living like him. I’ve taken his place, hidden my true soul underneath an illusion. That’s the only magic I’m capable of. Pretending. Lying. I’ve lived a life that’s not mine, and been the prince that died. It’s like that book.”

“Which one?”

“I woke up human. Except reversed. I woke up a monster, but I’m a human, a sliver of one, and instead of being tossed out and vilified, I’ve been welcomed in with opened arms into a family that loves me.”

Asriel’s hand balls into a fist, clenching harder than anything Aofil’s seen before. “But it’s a lie.” He slams his fist on his chest. “It’s all a lie that I’ve told everyone! It’s a lie I’ve told myself!” He lifts his fist over his hand. “My entire life is a lie!”

The table cracks in two.

Aofil flies out of their chair. “Sit down, Asriel!” they shout at the top of their voice. He’s gone too far now! “If you really believe that you are me then you’ll obey me because I have the overwhelmingly vast majority of my soul inside of me. I’m also a human! So if you really truly believe all of the fucking bullshit you’ve said so far you’ll sit down and calm down because I told you so! Keep standing, and you’ve smashed my table for nothing! Less than nothing, even! It would have been for nothing even if you were me because then why would I smash my own furniture that I still need to use today, and also all the following tomorrows?”

Asriel lowers his head as thick tears run down his cheeks. His fist is quivering from the impact, but it’s slowly releasing. His throat is clogged with all of things he want to say, all of the things he want to scream, but he can’t say nor scream any of them. He’s just...He’s too…

He lands hard into the chair propped up by the toaster. His head disappears inside his hands, and drops fall from between his fingers. The cup lays the towel underneath his head on the broken table.

“At least I cry like him...”

Aofil sits hard back down too as they drag their palms down their face.

Everything with this. Just so damn...everything. Why does he keep on like this? He was fine just a couple of hours ago, talked with Aofil normally. Now again with these unearthed mountains of revelations that just keep on coming. Another to add to the mountain range spanning miles upon miles, raising far above the clouds. 

Are they gonna have to explain to Toriel and Asgore that, not only does Aofil have a sliver of Asriel’s soul, but Asriel has a sliver of Aofil’s as well, and because of that he’s just a creation spawn not from them, but from...some other form of magic?

And Asriel.

Aofil glances over to him, head lodged deep inside his hands, muzzle dragging back with each pained sharp inhale, exhaling equally as sharp, and with perhaps more pain. They let him cry for a bit. It sounds like he needs it. 

Does it really mean that much to him about his soul? Does it for all of monsterkind? Aofil knew it was important, they remember the book Toriel gave them to teach from all those years ago. They also remember their own being the same as Chara’s, the Soul Extractor, the fusion, both theirs with Asriel’s soul, and Chara’s with Asriel’s soul. Their patch of fur, and all of the trouble it gave them.

That was supposed to be behind them though. That was supposed to have been cleaned off their slate once they talked with the monsters about it all. Confessed their soul for it to be cleansed of the past.

But yet again with this damn mess! Again with this soul business coming back to kick Aofil in the head. They had just started to get it under control, and now it’s flourishing like their cheeks did before. It’s literally crying out in front of them. How many more dark secrets are gonna be unearthed? How many more can there even be? Why can’t magic and monsters just be normal?

Guess they answered their own question by stating it…

But here it all is. All of the magic, all of the monster, mixed together like a badly tightened ball of yarn after an hour in the centrifuge, and Aofil needs to untangle it.

Again.

“Asriel,” Aofil blows their lips tiredly, “I’m gonna ask you a couple of questions now. You’re gonna have to answer them. I’m sorry, but you have to.”

“Just...” Asriel coughs a sob. “Just give me a couple of seconds.”

Aofil nods. “Of course.”

It takes closer to a couple of minutes before Asriel manages to get himself under enough control to speak. He accepts the paper towels handed to him by the cup, and he blows his nose a few times before feeling that he can breath through it again. He takes a big and long inhale as he swipes the tears away from his eyes. He exhales calmly, but there’s still some crying left in his voice. “Alright, ask me.”

“You ready?” Aofil makes doubly sure. “Take a few more minutes if you want.”

“No.” Asriel rubs his face in an attempt to wake him up further. “I need to do this, I need to grab it by the horns. Treat it while it’s fresh, otherwise it’ll get infected, as it always does. Frisk has been beating it into me for a while now, and I’d be lying to them if I don’t take it to...” his hands slowly glide down his cheeks, “...soul.”

Asriel ears flop violently as he shakes his head hard with a focused scowl flourishing on his face. “No! I can lie to myself, but not to Frisk. Not them, they’re the only anchor I have.”

“They’re a good kid, and so are you, Asriel.”

He nods, “Thanks,” and collects himself as best as he can. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

Aofil lets a silent beat pass to make sure Asriel’s comfortable with it. He’s obviously not, but he’s doing his damnedest to subdue it as best as he can.

They’re forced to shake the thought of them taking credit for Asriel’s bravery because he has their soul inside him. They clear their throat. “What do actually think? Really, what is it you’re feeling? Be honest, please be honest, because otherwise we won’t get anywhere.”

Asriel drags a few more quiet sobs before leaning his chin on his balled together fists. “I...I don’t know...I don’t feel any different, and it feels weird that I don’t. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

“Like, physically? Mentally? Both?”

“Both, I think.” Asriel scoffs a feigned chuckle. “Guess I now know why I can’t do any magic. It’s not really that I’ve changed or anything. I’ve had your soul for as long as I’ve lived, so why would me figuring it out be any different? It’s not magically gonna give me magic, is it? You didn’t know any magic before it broke off you, so why would I know any?”

“Sorry,” Aofil offers. “Only dad knew any form of magic. Guess it skips a generation. Or at least, that’s what I think it was. The only words I have of him saying that is when I was almost dying, so who knows how true that is actually. I guess I have that builder’s word for it too, and the pastor’s.” Aofil scratches the side of their neck. “So yeah, it skips a generation, apparently.” Wait a second… “You do know some magic though, right? Last time we sparred at Undyne’s house you managed some fire.”

“Yeah...” Asriel puts out his arms with his fingers flexed inwards. He tenses his entire body, but all that’s created is a tiny flame not bigger than a lighter’s. It fades away almost immediately, and Asriel bends over with his arms as support on his legs as he recuperates by breathing heavily. “Compare that to MK driving a car with his magic.”

“Nothing you can improve upon?”

Asriel’s brow sinks angrily for a brief moment before he relaxes them. “No, and I’ve tried and given it my all ever since it first manifested which was shortly after you left.”

“Has it become any stronger since I came back?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

Aofil drums their fingers on their legs as they think. Maybe if… “Maybe if I learn some magic myself? Could that transfer over to you?”

“That...I don’t know.”

“Does anyone know?” Aofil shoots back. “Like you said, this hasn’t happened before. Shouldn’t I be able to learn magic since I have a piece of a monster soul inside me?”

Asriel doesn’t answer. His mouth hangs half open as he thinks, his lips curling back and forth the slightest as he does. Finally his brows sink contemplatively. “Maybe? I’ve no idea.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“That’s kinda what I’m afraid of, actually. If you learning magic means that the bond between you and your soul increases, like it does us monsters, then wouldn’t that mean that the bond between you and me would grow stronger as well?”

Aofil wags their finger at Asriel while their own brow sink. “Good point. I didn’t really enjoy having your thoughts in my head before. No offense.”

“Maybe we should ask Alphys about it?” Asriel proposes halfheartedly. “She knows herself some soul, doesn’t she.”

“You feeling resentment against her for Flowey?”

Asriel shoots a vicious look over to Aofil that’s way beyond needing a soul bond to be felt. “No, I’m not. That’s Flowey, not me.”

Right, Flowey is in Aofil still. “Gotcha. I hadn’t asked before, but I know now. We’ll have to approach carefully though if we’re to ask her. She’s still haunted by what she did. I figured as much when I asked her to run some tests on, well,” Aofil lifts their arm with their fur, “you, and there are only a few more instances where I would describe something as dark as the shadow that fell over her face when I asked her that favor. She did the tests, probably because of the same reasons as you said. Need to treat the wounds and all.”

“I need to word it properly for my parents as well.” Asriel closes his eyes and shakes his head silently. “And I also guess that I’ve decided that I am Asriel after all since I called them my parents instead of Toriel and Asgore. Tell a lie enough and it becomes truth, it seems.”

“Don’t have to call it a lie to begin with,” Aofil retorts. “It could just be me not knowing anything about souls and magic and such, but you did form when we were fused, so perhaps what was you just jumped ship and traded places? Why don’t we just say that it happened that way? If you’re so dead set on calling this a lie, then let’s tell that one enough times so it also becomes a truth. Would explain why we split, but then again, you could make the argument that I sneezed so hard that we split and it would sound equally as convincing.”

“You tell me.”

Aofil looks through their wall towards the Dreemurr residence. “So you’re planning to tell Toriel and Asgore about it?”

Asriel nods. “Probably for the better. I’ll run it by Frisk first, see what they think.”

“That’s pretty grown up of you,” Aofil feels the need to point out. Very grown up, in fact. “Enough with the secrets?”

“What has secrets done for us, really?” Asriel follows Aofil’s eyes with his own. “Killed Chara, killed me, killed everyone.”

Aofil nods, they’re in agreement there. Better to warn the people around you before you rip the bandage off. Would’ve been better if they’ve learned that lesson a bit earlier, but many things would’ve been better if they’d learned of it earlier.

At least that have the opportunity to learn from their mistakes. Unlike Chara.

“I’m not sure how they’ll react though,” Asriel says through a sigh. “They did take you having the piece of my soul inside you pretty well, but I think that this is gonna be a bit more of a punch in the gut for them.” Asriel swivels his head around to meet Aofil. “I don’t mean it in the sense that I think that you speaking up to them didn’t matter in the slightest to them. It’s just...well, I’m their son.” Asriel looks down at his hands. “Or as close to their son as they can get.”

“You’re always gonna be their son, Asriel. No matter where, who, or why, you came from. It’s Toriel and Asgore, you know your parents.”

Asriel stands up with his arms pushing off his knees. “Guess it’s time for them to know their son, then.” He takes a final glance down on the divided furniture at his feet. “Sorry for this,” he apologizes with a small motion of his hand towards it.

Aofil taps one half with their foot. “We’ll worry about this later. You go home and deal with your soul first, that’s more important. I have another one I can use.”

“A spare table?”

Aofil shrugs before nodding their head to the basement door. “Gotta be one somewhere down there.”

Asriel nods, “Right,” before he makes his way into the hallway.

“Call me if you feel like you need me there for whatever reason, Asriel,” Aofil shouts after him.

“Yeah,” he shouts back before opening the door. “Sure.”

Once alone, Aofil draws a sighs so heavy would it be pointed towards Mt. Ebott it would be knocked over, bringing sunlight to the Underground, and just like how every monster down there would have more sunlight than they could handle, it’s just worsened Aofil’s headache.

And here they thought that Muffin would be the worse that’s happened them this day.

Wait...Where is Muffin?

Aofil spins their head around to their kettle. “Where’s Muffin?” they ask in such a tone that the kettle flinches back. It looks around to the other appliances, but they all just shrug.

Aofil lunges themselves out of their seat. “Muffin!” they yell. They whistle for him. “I got spiders, Muffin!”

But no one came.

Not the tiniest sound of skittering legs barreling towards Aofil.

They charge the living room, but he’s not there. Not in the hallway, nor in the basement. Aofil flies up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. “Muffin!”

Aofil almost tackles their bedroom door open. “Muf-”

Three sleepy eyes open up just the slightest before closing again. A long tongue emerges from the uneven mouth, and is flown across the rough, yet peaceful, face before being dragged back inside the dark cave that is Muffin’s mouth again. He drags a bear plush closer to him with his legs, nuzzling its face against his. A smile of pure content forms on his lips.

Aofil heaves a relieved sigh. “There you are,” they say while leaning their shoulder against the door frame. “And here I-”

Muffin burps, coughing out of him a sock that lands on the hardwood floor with a sloppy splat.

“Nevermind...”


	131. Mother (small piece of) son talk

“Remember, today’s the deadline for the physics project, and by that I mean that if I have it by the time we start class tomorrow, it will be counted as handed in in time. Send it in via email, or leave it in my message box next to the teacher’s lounge.”

Aofil sweeps the classroom with their eyes.

“And if you haven’t started it yet I suggest you do it right now.”

A couple of kids rush their way towards the door, squeezing through it in a flurry of odd numbered limbs and heads. Like a major spill at a paint factory, the ensuing squeeze and blend of their scale, feather, and fur colors creates somewhat of a sloppily made rainbow that, only after some panicked grunting, manages to finally unsqueeze itself with an audible thud.

The rest of the classroom leaves with a quiet murmur about the project. Some discussing the final touches, some avoiding Aofil’s eyes, and some striding out with pride. Aofil’s getting a pretty good estimate which ones they will enjoy reading because of the good quality of their reports, and which ones they will enjoy reading because of the bad quality of their reports.

They hope all of them are good, of course, but Aofil’s allowed to humor themselves every once in a while.

Asriel still enjoys the sight of the boring floor more than eye contact with Aofil though. His head moves up when Frisk approaches, so it can’t be that bad now, can it?

Hopefully not.

Once their class has left Aofil alone in their classroom, they sit down at their computer. Their screen informs them that they have an urgent message, as a, barely, animated monster in the top right corner waves a letter in its hand.

“Can you come into my office as soon as you’re able too?” 

Signed Toriel.

Aofil sighs through their lips. Was only a matter of time, really, but Aofil would’ve still liked for it to not have been the night after Muffet called and told Aofil that she needed to be away for a little while longer. Especially also not after the same night which Muffin overheard that, and the same night he spent whining during his sleep.

Coupled with his snoring it was a bit too much for Aofil. Snoring they could handle, albeit poorly, but the staggering sobs and blabbering slobbing was a bit too irregular for Aofil to get a good night’s rest.

“Good thing I have you,” Aofil cheers to their Mikkarama garnished coffee cup before drinking the last mouthful of it.

With vigor reinstated as much as possible, Aofil reaches into the depths of their backpack to retrieve some cutlery that they arrange on their desk. They place a pile of handed in homework next to them.

“Correct these while I’m away,” they order before leaving for Toriel’s office.

Toriel’s not one to send a message and then go cold turkey immediately after, that much Aofil knows, so her not opening as they knock on her office door has their brow furrow in thought. They conclude that the door is unlocked by the way it opens as they put some weight on the handle. Her cup of tea is still steaming, so maybe she was called away in a hurry?

Aofil seats themselves opposite her desk to wait. They barely have time to start drumming on their legs before Toriel enters. She flinches a bit seeing Aofil already sitting there. “Oh.” Her hand rests on the handle for a few seconds longer than usual. She also tightens it hard before closing, which is also a bit unusual. “You got my message, Aofil?”

Her voice is a bit on the wavering side.

“I did,” Aofil nods. “You wanted to talk to me about something?” they ask as Toriel makes her way to her chair.

Her eyes are glued down at her desk as she nods. “Yes, I did.” She holds the nod also for a few seconds longer than usual. “I did,” she repeats a bit quieter.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” Aofil wonders just in case. It could just be about when they accidentally set off the fire alarm when they wanted to demonstrate igniting hydrogen in a large glass flask. 

Toriel shakes her head. “No, nothing about that, Aofil.”

Alright, so it’s about Asriel…

Fantastic.

“Asriel told us something yesterday evening, Aofil. He told us who he was, or to use his own words,” the sharp inhale Toriel takes tells of how painful the words are to her, “what he is.”

Aofil crosses their arms as they sigh. They’d love for the coffee to set in right about now. “About my soul that resides inside him?”

“Yes.” Toriel moves her head up to meet Aofil’s eyes. “Yes, about your soul.”

“I’ve no problem with him having it,” Aofil makes perfectly clear to another Boss Monster. “I’m not using it, and I’m not planning on using it. Asriel can have it, it’s his now. I’m not taking any stake in it, and never will.”

Toriel’s tense shoulders sink down as she exhales. “Thank you, Aofil. I never doubted you would, but hearing you say that is still a relief to me. To be honest, I feel like I’ve done you a disservice in not outright dismissing the notion. However, the nature of what Asriel told us yesterday is...”

Toriel trails off, and is forced to clear her throat. It’s tightened like a corset, Aofil can hear it from the way she barely managed to produce a sound from her forced cough. Again, what they thought was the roof of the importance of monsters and souls is blown skywards. 

Toriel’s hand clamp together tight. “We all knew you were instrumental in saving Asriel, Aofil, in bringing him back, but to this extent we could never have guessed. Giving up a piece of your soul, that’s-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Aofil says sternly with the flat of their palm facing Toriel, “and remind you that I said that I make no claim to it. That means retroactively as well. What he has inside of him has not been inside of me for longer that it had been. I did not give it to him through a conscious decision, it wasn’t a sacrifice on my part. For as much as I know he found it lying around and took it, and I’m fine with his decision to do that. I say it again, it’s not mine, it is his.”

“You’re making a great-”

“No!” Aofil leans forward in their chair. “I’m not making anything, Toriel. It’s not a sacrifice, not me giving up something that is myself, no nothing. It’s Asriel’s, not mine. Can we please leave it at that?”

Toriel takes a deep breath as she thinks. It’s almost audible how much she is. Her brow is furrowed deeper than Aofil’s ever seen.

Does it really mean this much to them?

“I...understand, Aofil.” 

“Does it really mean this much to you, Toriel?” Aofil hands falls hard back on their lap. “Why is it so difficult for you to accept that I don’t feel like I have a claim to the piece that is inside Asriel?”

Toriel squirms in her chair as she struggles to find the words. Aofil has probably turned her world upside down by not accepting her apology, by saying that she has nothing to apologize for. 

She clamps her hands together and puts the balled fist carefully on her desk. “We monsters are-”

“Made out of your soul,” Aofil finishes while rubbing their forehead. “I know that, but I guess I don’t know that in my own soul.”

“It is hard for humans to grasp the ramifications,” Toriel offers as condolences. “However, your souls are to you what your heart is. It is an important organ, even if it is made out of magic.”

Aofil nods. “We can swap organs though. Transplant it into other humans. Sure, it’s not as smooth as the kids trading marbles and cards in the schoolyard, but it is possible, and plenty of humans live their lives with another one’s organ inside of them.”

“If monsters can...” Toriel sighs as her head sinks down.

“Asriel can, demonstratively so. He’s grown up, very much so, in fact, and he shows no sign of slowing down.”

Toriel nods, but it’s reserved, thoughtful, and a bit fearful. “That is true.”

“You don’t look happy about it,” Aofil comments while crossing their arms again. They should probably button up their shirt arm as well, cover up their fur.

“Aofil,” Toriel exhales calmly to compose herself. It has limited effect, “have you heard of the bond between a Boss Monster and their offspring?”

“In passing, yes.” Aofil looks up to the side as they think. “I think. You only age if your children are alive.”

Toriel nods, but Aofil sees that she’d rather shake her head. “Correct, Aofil. Asgore and I, ever since Asriel came back, have aged. Not by a lot, but he’s taken a bit more interest in the human sport of golf, if you understand what I mean?”

Aofil nods. They do understand, but that’s a very strange example to use, especially from Toriel. There isn’t a monster equivalent?

“And as Asriel told us of his...situation, yesterday evening, we came to a conclusion, Aofil.”

The one Asriel also came to.

Toriel’s breath quivers as she drags a careful inhale. “We’re aging because of you, Aofil, not Asriel.”

“I know.” Aofil’s not sure what to offer as condolences. Buttoning their shirt arm to hide their fur might be the first step. That they do, with Toriel nodding silently at the gesture. “However, it is still because of Asriel inside me that you do.”

“Thank you, Aofil,” Toriel says with her voice so quivering. Each vibration is like a rough shake on Aofil’s heart. Or is it Asriel inside them seeing his mom on the brink of tears?

Aofil sighs, are they gonna give in to this too? If they do they need to accept that the piece inside Asriel makes him Aofil too. 

Fantastic...

“I know I just said that I don’t see the piece of soul inside Asriel as mine, and that you’ve said that you don’t see his piece inside me as him, but I’m still gonna say that it is because of him that you’re aging. Even if that makes me a hypocrite. I’m gonna shout that from atop Mt. Ebott if I have to. The cat is out of the bag about the two of our souls, but really, does it matter? I’m not saying that to denounce or in some way reduce what you monsters are, but maybe we can just pretend we didn’t find this out? Continue like it was? It was nice, still can be.”

Toriel keeps her head low.

“I’m reminded of when we first saw Asriel again,” she says almost in a whisper, the weight of the words just barely escaping her lips. “We hesitated. We saw our son again. Our long gone son, arms extended towards us, but we backed off.” She has the same look of stunned confusion as the time she describes. A suspicion starts to grow inside Aofil because of that. “And now, a small part of me wonders if I was correct in being hesitant.”

She can’t- “You can’t be saying those things, Toriel.” Aofil leans forward again, but a shiver of tension from Toriel freezes them in their movement.

“I’m torn, Aofil.” Toriel’s hands forms into a fist that she squeezes tightly. “I know that it is Asriel that is making us age, but it is not the Asriel I’ve been seeing myself in all these years. It’s not the Asriel that’s grown up to be such a great young man. It’s the Asriel that just recently came back to us. You, Aofil. He is a part of you, and you are a part of him. You are all of the part of him that still exists in this world. I know you’ve resented that it is yours, but I can’t look past that. The importance of human souls, and the horrors it brought to, not only, me, but the entire Underground as well. It’s too fresh, too recent. I pray, wish, work, so that one day it will be but a distant and hazy memory, a legend disputed. We live our lives as they are now, we enjoy the Sun, and all its splendor and radiance. We bask in it alongside you humans, but in the shadow cast, we see the past filled of hate.”

“It’s in the past,” Aofil reminds. “Toriel, it’s all behind you.”

“It is, but what Asriel told us yesterday brought the past to the present. It’s too recent for me to handle properly, hence why I asked to speak with you, Aofil. I can’t put this on Frisk, and I feel bad putting this on you too. Forgive me, Aofil, but...” Toriel’s fist tenses so hard it could crush diamonds. “Asgore and I slept with our backs against each other last night… I’m not sure what that means.”

Aofil follows the tear running down Toriel’s cheek with their eyes.

“It’s because of the shock, Toriel. Trust me, I did the same,” Aofil offers as some form of comfort. “It has to sink in, and it might take a while for you, but it will sink in, I promise. With my entire soul, both me, and Asriel, promise it. Both the Asriel inside me, and the Asriel that you’ve seen grow up into your pride and joy alongside Frisk.”

Please let it get through to her. The suspicion keeps growing, and Aofil doesn’t like it in the slightest. She has to come through. She has to!

“Your words are kind, Aofil, as they always are. With your and Frisk’s help, we will get through this.” Toriel’s fist relaxes, as if drained of strength. “But not now. Perhaps later, but I can only muster up a perhaps. I love my son, and I would never call him anything else. The Asriel that is doing his best with the life that’s been given to him is the Asriel that I will forever call my son. However, being aware of this, that it is not his soul that makes him, it goes against all that makes us monsters. Never before have a monster been created out of a human soul.”

“Never before is a good description of what’s happened while I’ve been around,” Aofil adds while trying to give Toriel a warm smile. They feel it bounce off her, but she still smiles back. “Never before a cracked soul like mine, never before a monster coming back from the dead. Hell, never before monsters escaping their prison to begin with.”

Toriel chuckles just barely. “True, Aofil. It’s just...” Her muzzle is tugged involuntarily in multiple directions. Her teeth clamp down, gritted against her spastic lips. “My son...”

“Is still your son,” Aofil feels that they have to remind Toriel. If she slips, then it might be worse than when her memories were in disarray. If she resents Asriel as her son, then perhaps that will happen again… 

Aofil eyes move in a panic, darting up and down Toriel’s face. No, that can’t be happening. Aofil can’t let that happen!

“I...I...” Toriel’s hand again forms into a fist. A fist that she slams down on her lap. She hunches forward. “I love my son. He is my son. I can’t be thinking like this! How can a mother have doubt like this? What am I?”

Toriel drags a sharp inhale. “Aofil...” She lifts her head, eyes filled with tear. “Do you feel him inside of you?”

“I don’t, Toriel. I didn’t when we had our talk before, and I don’t still.”

“But during your sparring.” Toriel scoots forward anxiously in her chair, with her eyes unblinking and staring deeply into Aofil’s. “Asriel said that’s when he realized, that you felt him, and could hear his thoughts.”

He really did tell everything. To that, Aofil is a bit surprised. Usually telling everything means telling everything except some parts that are better not spoken of. It seems that eventually the truth comes out one way or another. Well, except Frisk being host to Chara. That seems to still be under a lid the size and weight of Mt. Ebott. 

Hopefully…

“Yeah, I did,” Aofil admits. “I felt him, but that was only because he had intent to...hurt me.”

Toriel finally blinks, rapidly, and hard. “Yes, that he did.” She tilts her head down to the side, shaking it lightly while trying to form her words. “I...” Her mouth again tugs in various ways. “I never believed he’d do such a thing. My child, so burdened.”

“He does his best, as you say,” Aofil offers. “Any lesser monster, or human, would probably not be able to handle what he’s gone through.”

Toriel nods, and a small smile manages to fight its way through her quivering lips. “You are of good soul, Aofil. I can’t imagine where we would’ve been if we didn’t have you, or Frisk.”

“You’ve had me for less than you haven’t, Toriel. Same with me and what’s inside of Asriel.” Aofil’s not sure if they should put their hand over Toriel’s, but their decision is made for them, as Toriel puts hers over theirs.

“Aofil,” she says while looking deeper into Aofil’s eyes than she ever has before, “never speak of yourself as something lesser than you are. Your humility is welcome, but all of what you’ve done, all that you continue to do, that is something you may never take away from yourself.” Her voice is back to the stability of her motherly ways. Completely shifted, from liquid to solid. Her fingers runs across the back of Aofil’s hand, caressing warmly with love so tender. Suddenly it’s Aofil that feels their throat choking. They exposed their weakness, and Toriel’s pounced on it, but not to attack, or exploit. She’s there to comfort, to heal. 

A mother, as always.

She’s back. She didn’t slip! Too close. Too damn close.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad that Asriel has your soul inside of him.”

Aofil shrugs. “He’s done more with it than I have.”

Toriel’s eyes harden. “Aofil...”

“Again, because I’m not using it,” Aofil clarifies while putting their hand on their chest. “I’m happy that he has it, it’s just that the shock hasn’t receded yet.”

Toriel nods to herself. “Perhaps.” She pauses for a long beat, allowing the commotion outside her office door to slowly creep inside, filling the room with soft murmuring. Among the quiet voices there is one that Toriel’s ears catch almost immediately. She lifts her head, looking through Aofil and the door. 

The voice is laughing, Aofil guesses because of a joke. Happy, filled with joy. 

“Show us, Asriel.”

“I’m not gonna flex, MK,” he answers.

More laughter, but this seems to be aimed at him instead of from him.

“That would be the day when you stop flexing, Asriel! Come on, just the arm.”

Toriel coughs a gentle chuckle as she hears Asriel sigh deep through the door. The sigh is quickly followed by loud and impressed gasping.

“Like touching that one rock that snarks back at you.”

“Same amount of snark, if not more!”

Aofil manages to catch Toriel’s eyes again as she dries off a tear from her cheek. “Guess him being of human soul gives him a bit more meat on his bones.”

Toriel shoots some air out her nose. Impressed air. Or perhaps...proud? “Yeah, the day where he finally defeats Asgore in arm wrestling is soon. It is a relief to know the reason for Asriel’s...difficulties with his magic. He will continue trying, that I know. Perhaps you should-”

Aofil puts up a hand again to stop Toriel. “Asriel said that if I were to learn magic, or try to, to be more realistic about it, then that might strengthen whatever bond there is between us. Might make me take over him, or something. I don’t want that, and I don’t think anyone else want to either.”

“I see.” Toriel seems to just now have realized that. “I will leave it up to you two to decide how to proceed further. Know that we will be supportive of whatever choice you two make, Aofil.”

They nod, “As always,” and tilt their head up to catch the clock. It’s almost time for their next lesson, and they’d like some time to process this alone for a bit.

Toriel follows where Aofil is looking. “Thank you for taking your time, Aofil.” She stands up with her arms crossed carefully over her robe. “Really, from the bottom of my soul.”

Aofil stands up as well. “It’s a big deal for all of us.”

Toriel makes her way around and embraces Aofil. “It is, and again, thank you for being here.”

Aofil returns the hug. As if they wouldn’t? “Same to you, Toriel. Otherwise I wouldn’t have a job.”

Their face almost drowns in soft silky robe as Toriel scoffs. “I’m only here on principal,” she says with a chuckle.

“That you are, Tor-”

Oh god damn it, that was a pun.

Toriel’s growing chuckle might be a bit too much for Aofil’s taste, but they feel she needs it right now. She opens the door with a smile, which is the best ending to this that Aofil could ever imagine.

“How is Muffin fairing, by the way?”

Aofil stops mid step in the door frame. “He’s fine. He had a bit of a sulk yesterday when Muffet called and said that she had to be away a little while longer, but he’ll get over it.”

Toriel’s brow sinks just the slightest. “I see,” she says while trying to hide her surprise. A trace is left behind though. “Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer from your class. I’ll see you later, Aofil.”

“You too,” they answer before Toriel closes the door.

Once back to their own classroom Aofil sits down hard in their chair. A long and dragged out sigh echoes through the room, but right now Aofil head is too full to care if anyone hears. They massage their face with both of their hand. They pause to breath in, and then sigh again while rubbing everything they can on their face.

Just...all of this…

Their sigh has their lips imitating an old diesel engine starting with too little of a choke.

Right now they could actually do with some Mettaton, to be perfectly honest, at least he’s…

Aofil throws their eyes open. They snap their head at their cutlery that they brought with them, but they’re still.

The familiar whirring continues though, just outside their door.

A silhouette, a fabulous silhouette, comes into view. The whirring stops, only to be replaced by a couple of soft knocks.

“Yoohoo?”

You’ve gotta be kidding...


	132. A star to shine some light

“It’s like every single time I think of someone they just materialize,” Aofil sighs out while rubbing their temples. “And of all the people to knock before entering, it’s Mettaton.”

Aofil shakes their head in disbelief so deep they need spelunking equipment and a small bird to tell them that they’re far too deep. 

It’s been telling Aofil for a good mile or so by now.

Wonder when Aofil will listen..

“Yoohoo, Aofil?” Mettaton asks again through the door. “It’s been far too long, darling. I just have to speak with you.”

Does he now?

“Met-” is the only sound Aofil manages to produce before Mettaton swings the door open, strutting in with an enthusiastic step that radiates fabulous and glitter.

Aofil watches the glitter slowly flutter down on the floor. “You know that someone is gonna have to clean that, right?” they ask with a finger pointing.

“Oh, Aofil.” Mettaton extends his leg, throwing it over the chair next to Aofil’s desk, and with one step, he seats himself with his chin resting on his hands. His elbows are planted on two stacks of papers Aofil’s prepared for the next lesson. If he gets oil on those…

“I only use non biodegradable confetti when I’m indoors, so don’t you worry. They’ll disappear in time.”

They’ll disa...What? 

“You really shouldn’t frown like that, Aof dear. Those wrinkles of yours get so prominent when you do so. I can recommend some MTT creams should you want.” Mettaton leans in closer to Aofil who cranes their head back. Their neck isn’t as extendable as Mettaton though, and he eventually catches up to Aofil’s ears. “They come in bulk, I can-”

Aofil pushes away Mettaton’s head with the flat of their palm. “Don’t push it,” they firmly state. “And what do you mean by them being non biodegradable and disappearing?” they ask after a short pause to take in the loud clonk that came from Mettaton’s head being lodged back into place.

“I would think you of all people would understand, Aofil.” Mettaton again comes face to palm when he again tries to lean in on Aofil. He retreats with a slightly miffed huff. “You’re the science teacher, after all.”

“Then enlighten me,” Aofil is so ever curious what Mettaton means by this. They put their hands together and place them on the table along with their lower arms. Aofil summons a patient smile, the same one they use when one of their students try to wring themselves out of a test or homework. 

Mettaton opens up one palm that he puts to his side. “Biodegradable confetti outside, it degrades in nature.” He opens his other palm and puts is to his other side. “Non biodegradable inside, it degrades in none nature.”

Oh that patient smile is getting a run for its money now! Aofil has to fight their face from scrunching up into that of pure bafflement. They’re absolutely sure Mettaton is watching them do that so he can push more of his creams on Aofil. He’s probably got a stack of contracts just ready to sign.

Aofil takes a patient breath, only now realizing that their knuckles have gone white from them squeezing them so hard together. They make a conscious effort to relax their shoulders, and to let the calm roll down their arms to their hands. “No, Mettaton,” they say after another patient inhale. “That’s not how it works, I’m afraid.”

He challenges that notion with a nod, “Yes, my dear Aofil,” and sweeps his hand dramatically over to the door. “That is how it works.”

Aofil rolls their chair to the side to get a better look and-

It’s gone.

“Perfect!”

Aofil is dragged back from their stunned position by the sound of a camera shutter rapidly firing off. They tilt their head up to Mettaton, who nods proudly. He opens up his stomach, presenting a stack of papers.

“If you could-”

“I’m not signing anything, Mettaton,” Aofil makes clear after leaning over their desk and slapping his stomach lid close. “No contracts. I do would like to know how those disappeared. Was it magic?”

Mettaton tugs a sinister grin, and opens his stomach again with a confident tilt of his head. Aofil again slaps it close. “Just tell me.”

“Magic, my dear human.” For a third time Mettaton opens up his stomach again. “The specifics are stated in the contract.”

Of course they are. Aofil tries to challenge Mettaton’s grin by furrowing their brow hard at him. It glances off him like a snowball tossed into the Sun. Aofil’s eyes move down to the stack of papers. Do they really have to?

“Was there something else you wanted me to do, M?”

Mettaton’s face freezes, his cocky grin solidifying into a drained frown. Aofil again leans out to the side to see what had him so stunned. They have a pretty good guess, judging by the voice.

“You’re working for Mettaton even during school hours, MK?” Aofil asks with a raised eyebrow. “I know you’re an adult and all, but even during school?”

MK shrugs, accidentally spilling some glitter from the dustpan he’s holding in his mouth. “I’m saving up some money for a rainy day, and I get to sneak in friends during his shows, so it’s not bad.”

Aofil’s eyes dart back and forth between MK realizing he’s spilled glitter and Mettaton looking like hes powered down. “You sure you should say that while Mettaton is here?” Aofil asks, a bit taken back by this whole situation. Tall order to be, considering the talk they just had with Toriel.

MK struggles a bit with getting the last glitter up with the tip of his tail. “It’s fine, he’s powered down.”

Oh, no wonder he looked like he was.

“I drove him here so that he could get some spare parts from Alphys. Don’t think he’s found her.”

Aofil places a careful finger on Mettaton’s shoulder. They push on it, but he doesn’t react. His face is still stuck halfway between confident smile and drained frown. “I don’t think so either. Is he gonna be fine?”

MK is careful with his nod, keeping one eye on the dustpan so that it doesn’t spill again. “Yeah, he should be fine. Just give him a smack on the side of his head. Should get him back to reality.”

As if Mettaton ever lived in a reality outside his own. “He’s done this before?”

“Yup!” MK shouts over his shoulder as he dumps the glitter into the trashcan that Aofil lifts up for him. He turns around with his tail facing Mettaton, and lifts it up. “Right around here.” He taps Mettaton’s head at the temple with the tip of his tail. “If it doesn’t work, hit him harder until he wakes up.”

“Um...” Aofil’s not sure. “Shouldn’t you do it?”

“If I swing my tail I’m gonna knock over everything on your desk, and we can’t drag him out. Not even Undyne can get him to move when he’s shut down. Well, I mean, she could probably, but you know what I mean.” 

Aofil stands up and holds their finger where MK’s tail is. “Here?”

MK nods. “Yes, right there. My PE is starting now, so I have to go.”

“You do that.”

“By the way!” MK shouts from the door. “You said we could hand in our report in your message box?”

“Yeah,” Aofil answers while still holding their finger on the spot MK showed. “Before tomorrow’s lesson.”

“Right, then I’ll tell Vulky that! See you tomorrow!” MK closes the door behind him with his tail. “Yooo! Vulky!”

Aofil returns their attention to the spot their finger is on. Just a slap, huh? Well, to be perfectly honest, their not exactly opposed to the idea. If it’s to help him. They could always call Alphys afterwards if it doesn’t work.

Like a tsunami ravaging a calm coastal village, the temptation flushes through Aofil with the same wild, and primal, power. They look at their hand.

Alright...

“So just sign here,” Mettaton says to an empty chair. He looks around himself, only stopping when he spots Aofil wringing their hand. “Oh...when did you stand up, Aofil?”

Never before has Aofil felt that they needed something this bad as what they did right now. The pain can’t possibly take away the relief that’s surging through them right now. 

My god did they need that!

“So, anyways, the contract?” Mettaton circles his hand over his opened stomach as Aofil takes their own seat again. “I have a variety for you to choose from, sweetie human.”

“Keep ‘em.”

“Come now-”

“No, I’m serious.” Aofil, for the fourth time, closes Mettaton’s stomach. “Keep your contracts to yourself.”

Mettaton, surprisingly enough, shrugs, and doesn’t try to convince Aofil further. Aofil almost wants to ask why he’s not making another effort, but they have a sneaking suspicion that it’s what he’s planning on Aofil to do. Not gonna fall into that trap, but the bait is looking very tempting, Aofil’s gotta admit as much.

“You wouldn’t have time to attend one of my shows later this week?” Mettaton asks after a short silence.

“As a guest or as a performer?”

“Guest.”

Aofil opens up their wallet, and takes out the ban stamp card which they wave between their index finger and long finger. “Guest with this?”

Mettaton sighs, it sounding like a vacuum shutting off. “It really ruins the magic if I was to say yes to that, Aof dear.”

“Then I’m busy,” Aofil informs while putting the card back into their wallet which they place on their desk. “Gotta take care of Muffin.”

This, of all things, piques Mettaton’s interest, and he leans forward inquisitively. Aofil instinctively leans back. This is not something they’re used to see Mettaton do. “Is Muffet not able to? Is she hurt?”

“No...” Mettaton’s worried? “Muffet’s fine, I think,” Aofil adds after a beat. “She’s away on some large baking order, or something. She’s been gone for a week now, gonna be for a few more days to boot.”

Mettaton nods to himself. “I see. Would explain why she hasn’t been returning my calls. She told you what it was for?”

Aofil leans back with their arms crossed. They’ve never seen Mettaton this curious about something, genuinely curious. It’s not something they find wrong, just...not right. Is he in love with Muffet, perhaps?

Why did that just send an angry shiver up Aofil’s spine?

“My first guess was that it was something to do with you, Mettaton,” Aofil answers after getting the shiver under control with a clearing cough. “But evidently not.”

“No, I have provided her with a bakery of her own at my restaurant for instant serving without a moment’s hesitation.”

Again with that shiver…

“And speaking of Muffet and you, Aof.”

Suddenly the shiver reverses, turning ice cold.

“I do must insist on you and Muffet presenting my next collection. It has been nothing short of a miracle to rival that of Frisk breaking the Barrier for us monsters. Sales are through the roof, even after I extended the one in my restaurant to accommodate those griffon monsters.”

Yes, it’s quite tall now. Aofil would call it irresponsibly tall if they were an architect, but they’re not, so instead they call it stupidly tall. Aofil can already see the shadow creeping up to their property when the Sun is behind the restaurant. They have told the shadow to stop before it reaches their lawn on numerous occasions, and so far it has obliged. If Mettaton adds a few more floors Aofil will be forced to put in a formal complaint. For being such a star himself he do likes to cast long shadows.

“So, anyways, how are you and the Prince doing?”

What does he mean by that? “We’re fine, why do you ask?”

Mettaton lifts a single finger pointing at Aofil’s arm. “He still visible?”

And who told him that?

“Alphys, before you ask,” Mettaton answers.

Right… Of course she did, and totally out of her own volition, Aofil guesses.

“Yeah, he is.” Aofil’s not gonna show their fur though. “Been calm ever since I came back.”

“Glad to hear that, Aofil.”

His smile is...genuine? Aofil’s uncomfortable seeing that.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from Alphys, the Royals, Undy, and the skeletons how much they’ve missed you,” Mettaton begins while crossing his leg over his other with his hands clasped together on his raised knee. “How there was an Aofil shaped hole in their Aofil shaped heart?”

“They didn’t formulate it exactly like that,” Aofil comments while chuckling. It does explain it pretty well. Now, who wrote it for him?

“Well, unlike if they would have a Mettaton shaped hole, I believe it did them some good.”

Mhm? Aofil leans back with their arms folded and their stare hardened. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely!” Mettaton recoils back like Aofil is accusing him of murder. “Why would I ever lie?”

“Many reasons.”

Mettaton waves that silly notion away. “Understandably, you’re a bit against what I just said, am I correct? Your biggest idol telling you that running away was the best course of action? That would be obscene should it be a lesson during my children’s programs, but you are an adult, Aofil. You have full control of your disposable income, rather than just partly.”

Aofil pockets their wallet after a not too subtle glance down at it from Mettaton.

He pretends not to be fazed by that. “The reason being, my dear human, is exactly that. You were their dear human. I guess still are?”

Aofil’s not gonna dignify that with an answer.

Mettaton’s stomach closes back up after just barely opening. “You not being at their side to help them gave them more confidence, more reliability in themselves. We emerged into a world controlled by humans with souls containing power none of us could fathom having. They met you, and immediately started to rely on you to be their safety net.”

“And Frisk?” Aofil challenges again with a furrowed brow.

Mettaton shakes his ever so amused head. “The Queen wouldn’t let a child bear such burdens, especially not a child which had already done so much.” He nods to Aofil. “You, you were the adult human they could fall back on. When you left though, that safety was taken away, but the responsibilities they were about to face only grew. Now without this immensely powerful soul at their side, what would they do?”

“What did they do?” Aofil asks back.

“They did.”

Okay?

“They did,” Mettaton repeats. “They put their hopes into themselves, not a human. For years before, the only thing that would bring us hope was another human falling down and giving up their soul, through whatever means necessary.” He again points a finger to Aofil. “You were the first one to leave.”

That’s not true.

“After the tragedy of the first human, that is,” Mettaton adds, but it doesn’t really make Aofil feel any better. “But you leaving, and in a way the first human leaving too, brought that ever so precious feeling, determination. This time was different though. The Royals couldn’t just go back into the Underground with you gone, now could they? Not after what they’ve promised us. New business opportunities. A whole Surface to corner with my fabulous brand of products. Humans to finally entertain!”

Aofil can’t tell if it’s tears or hydraulic fluid running down Mettaton’s cheek.

“So, they decided to do something we monsters could never think possible, and face the humans with nothing but ourselves. Barring the Riot, it went well, as you can see around you now, Aof.” 

“That’s not how the Dreemurrs phrased it though.” Aofil puts their hand over their patch of fur as Mettaton’s eyes move over to it. “The real ones, not the sliver that resides within me.”

“Isn’t it real to you?” Mettaton sends back with an inquisitive tilt. “If your arm is anything to go by, I’d say it’s manifest. Humor me, Aofil, could you imagine the Dreemurrs taking credit for anything? Especially the King and Queen?”

Aofil lifts up a finger to challenge that, but they retract it immediately. He’s got a point there.

“They’re a humble bunch, those Boss Monsters, I’m glad to have those in charge. I’m including Frisk, of course.” Mettaton draws a thoughtful sigh. “That child has helped us in ways we never thought possible.”

Did Aofil hit Mettaton too hard? This is the complete opposite of what he’s supposed to be. Although, this is the first time Aofil’s been with him alone to talk. All of their previous encounters have been in the presence of others. Is he just keeping up appearances when others are around?

Aofil taps their desk with their knuckles. “Didn’t you just say that the Dreemurrs managed this without any human help? How about Frisk?”

“They helped, of course, but only as much as a child could do. They may have saved the monsters, with a soul more powerful than all combined, but against humans, they’re merely a child.” Mettaton leans forward. “Do you know why your friends seem so keen to show up out of the blue?”

Aofil returns a raised eyebrow. “Like what you just did?”

“So we are friends!” Mettaton throws his arms out in bliss. “How wonderful!”

Walked right into that one…

“But I digress.” Mettaton flairs his hand towards Aofil’s chest. “I’m sure you know the nature of your soul?”

“Gotta have to be more specific.” Does he mean that it is like Chara’s? Or that it is red? Or that it is broken, and mended with Asriel’s soul? Or that it is a human’s?

“I’m talking of course of it being sought after.”

Okay…

“As in, we monsters enjoy its company. It’s like a cozy hearth for us to warm ourselves by.”

“I’ve been told that, yes.” Aofil nods. “It does bring up the question whether or not you’re my friend because of me, or because of my soul.”

“Can’t it be both?” Mettaton proposes with a thoughtful expression. “The two parts of you that we enjoy wholly?”

“It sounds like you’re implying that my soul is a sort of perfume, or something.”

“No, it’s-” Mettaton’s face again freezes. Grinds start turning in his head, very loud gears, Aofil can clearly hear them. They sound almost like cash registers.

“Yes...” The gears turn louder. “Yes.” And louder. “Yes!” And louder!

Mettaton flies out of his chair. “I knew they made the right decision choosing you, Aofil dear!” He takes off out the door before Aofil has time to react.

Choosing them? Who?

“MK!” Mettaton shouts just outside Aofil’s classroom door. “Would you kindly drive me back to the restaurant?”

MK opens the door ajar to pokes his head in a couple of seconds or so afterwards. “Yo, how hard did you hit M?”

“Hard?” Aofil answers. “I don’t know.” They swipe the air with the flat of their palm. “Something like this?”

MK’s brow furrows. “Not enough. Thanks anyways though.”

Not hard enough? What is he-

The papers on Aofil’s desk again rattle as Aofil also rushes out of their chair towards the door. They catch MK spinning his tail against Mettaton’s head in the last second. He stumbles from the impact, and his head twitches violently. After catching himself on the wall, Mettaton shakes his head, and stands upright again. He brushes off his shoulder pads. “Ah, MK.” His voice needs a couple of words to spool back up. “Why aren’t you driving me at this moment?”

“You froze, M,” MK answers while opening the front door for Mettaton. “Had to get you back up to speed again.”

“I see.” Mettaton glances back to Aofil. “I’ll send you a bottle as thanks for your wonderful idea, Aofil dear.”

Mettaton rolls out of the building while throwing some more glitter behind him. MK sweeps it along with his tail as he follows Mettaton out.

Aofil turns their head to the myriad of pupils staring both at the front door, and Aofil’s. “Yes, are we ready to start?” Aofil asks while opening their door further.

An orange monster shakes two of its four head. “It’s been fifteen minutes, we’re legally allowed to leave.”

Aofil chuckles. They’ve heard that excuse before. They sweep their hand inwards towards the classroom.

“No, seriously,” the orange monster’s other head says. “It’s been twenty minutes. We’re legally allowed.”

“That’s-”

“True,” Toriel chimes in as she emerges from the printing room. “I highlighted it in your contract, Aofil.”

Aofil waits for laughter that will never arrive. 

“Right...” they answer after a short, but feeling like long, while of awkward silence. “Must’ve slipped past me.”

They close the door with a plastered smile.

It drains as they suddenly realize.

It’s not only Mettaton they have to be careful with contracts about.


	133. Never a quiet lunch

“It just feels so strange. It’s like I’m not myself. Parts of me just...doesn’t feel normal. Like a mixed bag of different feelings of touch wherever I run my finger. I don’t know if I can handle this, Aofil. I’m being torn apart in my own skin! I don’t know what’s me, and what’s not, and they’re all changing at the same time!”

Aofil halts their fork filled with rolled up pasta just before their mouth. Their face scrunches up into a perplexed frown, and they put down their fork with a loud clank on the porcelain plate.

“What should I do? I can’t go one like this!”

Aofil shakes their head carefully. “Just shower again, Undyne? Wash it off?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” she shouts while rubbing the length of her arm with her other hand. “We’re out of shampoo! I had to use three different ones since they were all just a squirt left from being completely empty. It feels so weird! My hair smells differently from my skin, my skin smells differently from other parts of my skin, and they all have this different moisture and texture to them and- Ngaaaaah!” 

Undyne whips her hair around after smelling it. Aofil cranes their neck back to avoid being smacked in the face.

“It’s feel so weird!” Undyne shoves both her arm and hair across the teacher lounge’s table for Aofil to feel. They just barely manage to move their plate out of the way. Their glass didn’t fair better, and their water creeps dangerously close from glass knocked over by Undyne’s hasty elbow. Aofil wipes the water up just before it manages to escape off the table’s edge.

Undyne shakes her arm and hair to remind Aofil. “Feel them!” 

“Alright, alright.” Aofil answers as they throw the soaked bundle of paper into the trash bin. They make their way back to Undyne practically lying over the table while presenting her hair and arm. 

“You feel it?” Undyne asks as Aofil carefully rubs some strands of her hair between their fingers.

“It feels soft.” That’s all Aofil can really say. “Is it the wrong kind of soft?”

“Yes!” Undyne nods, and the movement translates to her hair shaking Aofil’s hand. “Smell it too!”

Aofil throws a glance at the door. It was a while since Mettaton left the building, but you never know with him. Undyne’s hair smells like it usually does, pink. How is it different?

Undyne tilts her head awkwardly to both see Aofil and not twist her hair too much. “Right?” she asks with her eye desperate for a validating answer.

“No?” Aofil smells it again. “Not really?”

“But it is!” 

Alright then.

“My arm too!”

Undyne shoves her arm into Aofil’s hand. Her scales chafe against Aofil’s palm, but it’s not enough to-

“Told you,” Undyne exclaims with relief as she sees Aofil’s face morph into furrowed thought. She slowly moves her arm back and forth along with Aofil’s gentle squeezes.

There is something…

It’s subtle, but her scales on her forearm feel a tad rougher than on her upper arm. The difference between a dry and wet scouring pad, almost.

“Is there different body washes for different types of scales?” Aofil asks after releasing Undyne’s arm. “Like, for different monsters? I’d imagine there being.” They have to fight their urge to smell their hand, and the mix of pink it might smell.

“Yeah.” Undyne nods while grabbing the same parts of her upper and lower arm as Aofil did, albeit with a more conflicted expression to her face. “There is. Me and Alphee use different ones, since hers is a bit more, you know.”

No, Aofil doesn’t. They still nod, hoping that it doesn’t mean anything, well, you know.

“Which is what I had to use this morning. Hers, mine, and then the one we keep around for Frisk.” Undyne crosses her arms over her abdomen, grabbing the edges of her tank top. Aofil would really like to know what she means by them knowing right about now. “These feel the worst though,” Undyne laments as she slowly drags her tank top up.

Aofil would really like to know now!

Undyne stops it just as her gills come into view. Aofil releases a grand sigh of relief. “See?” she asks while turning side to side. “They’re so dried up! It’s like I’m walking around with sandpaper implanted!” She throws her tank top down again. “Then for my hair I had to also use some of that fur shampoo we keep around for Asriel as well as my own shampoo.”

Undyne brings the tail of her hair up to her...nose? She can clearly smell it since she visibly reacts to it and backs her head away from it with a return of her conflicted expression. Aofil feels their eyes move down to their arm. Fur shampoo, she says? Perhaps…

“It’s my skin that crawls the most though!” Undyne informs while brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “It must be your human body wash,” she mutters while rubbing her arm again in an attempt to mellow out the difference. The only thing mellowing out is her tired expression though.

“Last time I was around to shower I had to use some of yours, Undyne. It chafed a bit when I used it. If anything I feel that this is proper revenge.”

Aofil doesn’t really mean that. Well, they kinda do, but not in an evil way, not an evil evil way, just a friendly evil way. Just a little evil between friends. Evil body wash between friends in the shower…

Aofil derails their train of thought before it speeds out of control by shaking their head.

“Frisk brought that up too,” Undyne says after a brief pause to take in Aofil’s sudden shake, “so me and Alphee decided to get some for you humans as well. Otherwise we would drown in complaints since apparently you humans are such softies! Ngahahaha! I gotta tell you,” Undyne tugs a toothy grin, “the bottles for your human body wash are so strange. It’s like, different kinds of fruit being thrown into creams? I’m buying necessities for my bathroom, not flavored yogurt! I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find any yogurt with package sporting a bowl in a shower. I will never stop looking though! Gotta be one somewhere.”

“One of the few things not plastered with Mettaton’s face though,” Aofil retorts while brushing their nose. A sharp smell of two kinds of pink smells comes with them dragging their thumb across their nose, and they almost sneeze from the intensity. They quickly dry it off with their other, non pink smelling, hand.

“Hah!” Undyne winks once at Aofil. “You got a point there, Aof. The first thing I do when I come home after shopping is covering up Mettaton’s face on all of those damn products.”

“Violently?” Aofil pries curiously. “And still? After all this time?”

Undyne’s grin grows. “Always. I don’t care if Alphee gets a discount since she made him and all that, that smug grin looks way better under a few layers of thick strokes of black felt marker.” Undyne slashes the air in front of her rapidly as she pretends to draw on an imaginary cereal box. Her movement isn’t that much different than her sparring, especially her excited face.

“A few?” Aofil retorts. “A few in monster must mean a lot in human then, because I can’t imagine you doing anything less than the entire pen. Would explain why I never find a full black pen in any of the classrooms though.”

Undyne’s coughing does the complete opposite of her intentions. “I wouldn’t know anything by that,” she lies through her smile that’s suddenly a ways bigger. “Guess they just disappear, or something.”

Aofil holds their tilted head and raised eyebrow towards her, and Undyne does her best to pretend not to be fazed by it. She drinks from her coffee cup, making a sound not unlike a raging waterfall.

“You’d think there would be ghosts around,” Aofil says, still with their head tilted. “Swooping in, taking our black felt pens. I wonder what they would use them for?”

“Maybe making tattoos?” Undyne guesses haphazardly, not that she knows… ”Perhaps maybe something else?”

“Perhaps maybe.” Aofil nods accusingly. “Yes, perhaps maybe.”

Undyne’s suddenly very focused on her food. It’s just something about how it is not looking Aofil in the eyes that just grabs her attention, and holds it tight. Just, no escape. She can’t take her eyes off them, who’d know what would happen? She has to not look Aofil in the eyes, or else the entire fabric of reality might collapse. Not sure how, but there’s a possibility, and what kind of leader of the Royal Guard would let the world collapse on her watch?

Undyne throws her closed fist down on the table. “Never!” she exclaims.

Should Aofil tell Toriel about this? She has to know by now though. Toriel’s the headmaster, nothing slips past her. Especially Aofil’s demonstrations. It’s amazing what ruckus one large glass flask filled with hydrogen can make. Their demonstration went well, it did what Aofil wanted it to do, but that wasn’t enough, apparently. They took all the precautions. Goggles, lab coat, hair moved away, gloves. They would’ve done it outside hadn’t it been windy. They had also asked the snow dragon to be ready with his ice magic if things went overboard, which, yes, it did, but the snow dragon subdued the fire. No harm done. No one got hurt, no one lost an eyebrow, or worse.

Except for the ceiling, that is.

“What’s up with the ceiling in your classroom, by the way?”

Can she read thoughts? When did Undyne learn that?

“Just a thing,” Aofil answers, now also very interested in their food which forces them to not look Undyne in the eyes. This pasta...so exquisite! So not explaining why their classroom ceiling is scorched worse than Undyne’s first house. It’s a good quality for pasta to have.

“Ghosts there as well?” Undyne offers as a friendly gesture along with a chuckle.

“Sure.” Aofil nods. “Sounds good.”

The two friends return to their eating, and the teacher’s lounge again settles into a soft state of silently clinking utensils. No whirring of motors, Aofil’s told theirs to be quiet for the meal.

“Speaking of ghosts,” Aofil remembers after a minute or so as they twirl their fork carefully as to not spill anything, but still make enough of a movement to make it a gesture, “one came over earlier today.”

“Here? In the school?” Undyne checks the wall, readying herself should a ghost come through. “New pupil?”

“Mettaton, actually.”

Undyne takes her eyes off the wall and moves them to Aofil along with a conflicted frown. “He’s a new pupil?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, of course not.”

“It’s not really ‘of course’ since I just asked if there was a new pupil, Aof,” Undyne retorts with her open palm thrown against Aofil.

“Whatever.” Aofil waves it away. “Thing is, he said this really weird thing as he left.”

“Goodbye?”

Now it’s Aofil’s turn to send over an annoyed expression that’s met with a condescending hand wave. “He said something about choosing me? He used the word ‘they’ to describe who did. He was glad is was me too. You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

Aofil barely has time to finish their sentence before Undyne starts awkwardly shuffling in her chair. “No,” she says, blatantly lying. She excuses herself to fetch some more water so that she can drink it innocently, further proving that she doesn’t know anything.

“Not a single clue?” Aofil pries, akin to a drill to a rotten melon. They hold their eyes hard on Undyne, not letting her slip even the slightest. “You don’t know anything about it?” Her eye shifts back and forth so much Aofil can almost picture whatever it is underneath her eye patch doing the same. 

Question is though, should they be the bad cop, or the good cop? Question is also, are they being mean to her by doing this?

Yes, yes they are, but she’s been opposed to Aofil getting any form of control over, and inside, their house, so this is evening the playing field. 

Sure, they could be the bigger person, but they could also enjoy themselves for once. Humor themselves a bit. They’re allowed that.

To be honest, it’s Aofil allowing themselves, but semantics are for later. Right now they have a confession to extract!

“What else did that dilapidated toaster say, Aof? You know he’s just saying stuff to get you to sign his contracts!” Undyne picks up her glass of water with a plastered smile. “Ngahahaha…ha...” Her smile drains quicker than her glass, turning into a panicked frown that’s clearly visible through the glass she’s put up to her mouth. The liquid she’s drinking immediately turns into sweats, beading out of her face like thick drops the size of grapes.

Hopefully she won’t faint. That would kinda ruin the mood. Very inconsiderate of Undyne to do so now that Aofil has this fun plan for her.

“There was something else he said,” Aofil pretends to ponder, putting their hand underneath their chin while feigning contemplation. “Something about...what was it again?”

“Could be many things!” Undyne says a bit louder than she planned. Would be a first for her, something Aofil’s keen to pick up on. She’s definitely hiding something. Aofil has their guesses, well, guess singular, but they’re pretty sure it’s a correct one. “Like I said, he was probably just scheming to get you to sign a contract! Maybe he wanted to revoke your ban card! He’s tried plenty of times with mine and Alphee’s. It’s like he doesn’t want to give us a free meal! You can’t trust him.”

They smack their lips as they finish their contemplation. “A name, he said. Two names, actually. An event, and two names.”

The grapes turn into golf balls.

“Frisk was the first name.”

The golf balls morph into melons.

“And there was something about Frisk. The event.” Aofil leans back with their hands clasped over their stomach. “Their birthday.”

The melons can’t grow further, so instead they become more numerous.

“And he also said that someone else had spilled the beans. Someone...” Aofil tilts their head down, their eyes meeting that of someone. “...called Undyne.”

Undyne flies out of her chair. “I didn’t!”

Right into Aofil’s trap. “But you know about it!” they shout back with their finger pointed straight at Undyne. “What have you chosen me for?”

Undyne’s mouth curls in on itself. Her entire body tenses, including her sweat. Stopped dead in its panicked track. She holds her breath, body, beliefs, still for a long and stressed while.

She’s caught, she can’t say anything. Aofil’s got her.

But not physically.

“Hey!” Aofil shouts after Undyne as she bolts out of the door, but it’s too late. Barely a second after they catch her running down the street full sprint through the window behind them. They sigh, but not because they didn’t get an answer. They sigh because she left her plate half eaten. Aofil’s gonna have to clean that one too along with theirs.

Well, their cutlery they brought from home is gonna clean the plates, but it’s the principal. 

Oh, it’s the principal.

“Why did Undyne run off, Aofil?” Toriel asks while holding the door in one hand, and scratching her perplexed head with the other. “She has a class in about five minutes.”

“I’m impressed that she managed to seeing how she stuck her foot in her mouth.”

“What was that?” Toriel asks. She didn’t really catch that.

“Nothing,” Aofil lies. “Maybe she’s warming up for her class,” they propose with a shrug.

“Warming up for cooking lessons?” Toriel hears her own question, and accepts it as a possibility with a slight tilt of her head. “As long as she also warms up the plates.” She sends over a playful wink to Aofil, who winks back. “Jogging up an appetite, perhaps?”

“As long as she not ladle to the class.”

Toriel puts her hand up to her mouth as she chuckles. Looks like she’s managed to compose herself a bit since earlier. Aofil still feels like they have to ask her about it though. It’s not really a pleasant feeling.

“You feeling a bit better now?”

Toriel closes her eyes solemnly as she moves her hand back down over her stomach. “Yes, I do. I took some time to think alone, and the rest I’ll have to do with my family later on. You’re welcome to attend, should you feel you need to, Aofil.”

“You said family, Toriel.” Aofil puts the flat of their palm up before she can retort. “I know that you consider me family, but it’s your family family that needs to talk it out. I’m fine, Asriel’s not.”

“I understand.”

Hopefully she does.

“I’ll let you return to your eating, Aofil.” Toriel bows her head with a smile. “Hope it tastes.”

Aofil cheers her with their full fork as she leaves. It’s not a lot left, but the gesture’s nice. While they chew, Aofil turns around to see if they can spot Undyne. They peer at the horizon, but she’s nowhere to be found. She really took off when Aofil mentioned Frisk’s party. A seldom sight, seeing Undyne rush off like that. Maybe they-

Dammit!

Aofil slaps their knee in frustration. They forgot to ask Toriel about Frisk’s party!

Dammit again!

They lean their neck onto the backrest of their chair. Although, now that they think about it, maybe it wouldn’t be the best and smoothest idea to press Toriel about that birthday party now that she has Asriel’s situation on her mind. Best case they would get a friendly and warm decline, and worst case…

Aofil’s not gonna think about that now. Instead they should think about their food. How good it is, the texture, how their chewing sounds like skittering feet on wooden floor.

Wait…

And why does Aofil hear themselves chewing despite stopping? And why is loude-

What’s left of Aofil’s food slams against the window as they’re knocked over from behind. Whatever knocked them over quickly hurries off them though, and throws itself against the glass. A loud and familiar slobbering sound follows the dazed bonk from the window pane.

“Muffin?” Aofil asks as they rise from their involuntary prone position.

Muffin looks over his shoulder at the sound of his name. It’s not as important as the food slowly dripping down around his tongue that’s lodged against the window though, so he returns to that instead. Very loudly.

“Ahuhuhu~”

“Oh.” Aofil climbs back into their chair with some support from the table. “Muffet. Back so soon?”

Muffet slides over the table, embracing Aofil with four of her arms. “Thank you so much for taking care of my sweetie Muffin, human.” With her other two arms she lifts up two bags that she places on the table next to Aofil. “I hope everything’s gone well with him?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder, at the large spider throwing his tongue viciously at whatever piece of food he can find. It’s not a pretty sight, even less so as Aofil’s struggles to keep Muffin away from their cooking last evening have now proved fruitless. Oh well, at least they got to eat some of it. Judging by the absolutely delicious smell coming from the bags Muffet just brought forth, Aofil is gonna be eating something else very soon though.

Muffet smiles as she tugs at the handles of the bags. “Could you hand these to the Queen, Aofil?”

Oh, woe is Aofil.

“Sure,” they still say. “You just missed her though. She might be in her office.

“Good!” Muffet stands up from her chair. “Then you don’t have to carry them far.”

I she…

“Muffin!” Muffet claps her six hands together. “Let’s go home!”

Aofil is forced to brace as Muffin, very ungracefully, rushes underneath their chair. 

“There are some bags waiting for you at home, human. Fuhuhuhu~ I made them special for you.”

That’s good and all, but… “How did you get in?”

Aofil’s concerns are like pouring water onto Undyne, all it brings is a smile and a laugh. “I’ll see you later, human.”

A handful of spider follows her from behind the wall mounted clock. Aofil goes to inspect it immediately after, but they can’t find a hole behind it.

Better not to dwell on that.

The smell from the bags again catches Aofil’s nose, and they turn their attention back to the bags. Might as well get it over with.

The bags are surprisingly heavy, but looking down into them, Aofil just sees tin foiled wrapped shapes and containers with various numbers written on them along with some drawing of Muffet’s head in different poses and smiles.

“Come in,” Toriel says after a couple of Aofil’s knocks. “Oh, Aofil.” She removes her hand from the phone in her hand. “Yes, I’m still here,” she informs the phone.

Aofil lifts up the bags in view to Toriel. “From Muffet,” they stage whisper before putting the bags on Toriel’s desk.

She reaches out her hand and upraised index finger. “Wait,” she mouths. “Yes, Aofil is here too. They-”

Toriel moves her eyes over to Aofil. “I understand,” she says with a slight melancholy to her voice. “I’ll ask them.”

Toriel again puts her hand over the phone. “It’s the Pastor.”

Oh, the Pastor. Why?

Toriel’s mouth must’ve suddenly gone dry, as she licks her lips and drags her lips uncomfortably. “Can...” She pauses to take a breath. “Can you accompany Asriel to Mt. Ebott?”

Aofil beckons for the phone. “Aofil here,” they greet.

“Oh, Aofil,” the pastor says. He sounds a bit anxious. “I don’t mean to drag you away from work...” He pauses as he must’ve realized that it’s the exact thing he’s meaning. “I’ve discovered something I need to speak with you in person of. The Prince as well.”

Asriel as well? Aofil tilts their head over to Toriel, who nods worryingly. “It can’t wait until later? It has to be now?”

“Sooner is very much preferable to later, I’m afraid.”

“And you can’t say it over the phone?”

“I need you two present to remove any doubt.”

Aofil again looks over to Toriel. She nods, still worried.

“Guess we’ll go then?” Aofil gets another nod from Toriel. They hand over her phone back to her.

“Thank you, Pastor,” she wishes before disconnecting the call.

Her unstable exhale makes the entire room shake.

“Not more weight on your shoulders.” She sighs again. “Not now.”

“We’ll manage.” Aofil shrugs casually. “If the Pastor says it’s important, it probably is. Don’t know why he couldn’t just say it over the phone?”

“I’ll go get Asriel.” Toriel stands up and motions for the door. “We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

No, seriously, why couldn’t he just say it over the phone?


	134. Highway to Ebott

What’s taking Asriel so long?

Aofil leans carefully back with their arms crossed on the front of Toriel’s car. It doesn’t set as much as a normal car would, probably because of the increased suspension. They’ve been waiting for ten minutes no. He should’ve been here right about ten minutes ago.

Is Toriel giving him a talk or something?

A car door slams shut behind them. Aofil turns their head around to see a car from the other side of the car park start to drive away.

How the hell did they slam that door so hard and not have it fall off?

Or perhaps-

Toriel’s car unlocks with two rapid honks, and Aofil flinches from the sound. As they step back, they catch a white creature at the corner of their eye. Asriel’s walking towards the car with the key ring spinning around his claw. 

“It’s open,” he says as he approaches the car, key ring still swinging around his claw, inching closer to the end of it.

“I know,” Aofil answers as they open the passenger door. They slid into the seat that’s too big for them. It’s very comfortable though, and the seat belt is adjustable enough so that it doesn’t strangle them, which is always a plus.

Asriel has to adjust, not only his seat, but the steering wheel as well. After a solid minute or so he finally feels comfortable enough to start the car. He slowly pulls out of the parking space, and makes his way towards the parking lot exit.

“Indica-”

“I got it,” Asriel interrupts, seamlessly hitting the indicator lever as he begins to turn the car.

He even looks both ways. Good.

Although, isn’t he turning the wrong way? He turned left before, now he’s going right. Aofil cranes their neck over Asriel. Yeah, they’re going the complete opposite way. Did Mt. Ebott move when Aofil was sleeping or something?

“The main road is done now,” Asriel informs without taking his eyes off the road. Aofil sees that his grip on the steering wheel is a bit relaxed this time. Bodes well. Seems like he’s been practicing his driving a bit more. Aofil takes the opportunity to lean their seat back. It squeaks a bit, must be the first time anyone’s done it in this car. Even with the extended leg room and widened seat they can’t imagine both Toriel and Asgore sitting in it at the same time. Perhaps with one in the backseat and one driving, but only perhaps. 

Gosh, they’d pay good money to see that. Gotta be hell on the suspension though. Even with just Aofil and Asriel inside it the car still fluctuates as it mounts a speed bump. 

“Can you plug in the charger, please?” Asriel asks while handing over his phone to Aofil.

“Sure,” they say as they take it from his hand. They scour the panel between the driver and passenger seat. Quite a myriad of things and stuff, Aofil barely knows what half of any of the things inside the panel is, if not more. After some deep spelunking Aofil finally spots a cable.

As they plug it in, the speakers in the car crack to life, as if waiting for this moment. Out of them loud rock riffs start playing, and Aofil quickly throws their hand against the volume dial. They spin it faster than the wheels of the car.

They rub their ear as they remove their other hand from it.

Asriel’s unfazed, because of course he is. Young people not caring about their ears. Typical.

Aofil’s gonna do their damnedest to try forget that they just thought of the phrase ‘young people’. Maybe a change of tone is in order, get that topic rolling away.

Tone.

Ringtone.

Phone.

Yes, there we go. 

“Why didn’t the Pastor just say what he wants to say over the phone? Still confused why we have to drive over to him.” Aofil blows their lips. “I mean, there’s no reason not to. If it’s as important as he says, won’t us knowing what it is make us more convinced to drive over? Only reason I can think of is that it is not important, but then why would he call?”

Asriel keeps quiet as a rather busy roundabout comes into view. Aofil tilts their head over. Yup, he’s nervous about it. “You want me to tell you when to drive into it?”

He shakes his head. “No.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel. His focus deepens, his breath steadies. He’s utterly determined.

Aofil throws up a hand as they shrug. “It’s just a roundabout.”

Their comment falls on deaf ears as Asriel eases the car to a stop. The engine purrs quietly as car after car passes in front of Asriel. He keeps his eyes locked on the curve left of him. Waiting for the opportune moment to-

The car lunges forward, spurting as it does. Asriel manages to keep the clutch balanced, but just barely, and the car stutters into the traffic. His mouth twists into a disappointed scowl. “Dammit.”

“You’re making too big a deal out of this. Stressing yourself out will only make the car stress itself out as well. If your hands are tense, so will your feet be, and no clutch be liking no tense foot.”

Asriel turns up onto the freeway, and after some careful checks over his shoulder, he merges into the traffic. Much smoother this time. He breathes out.

“I was the same when I got my license, Asriel. Dad gave me the advice I just gave you, and it helped me a lot.”

“Mom and dad have given me advice as well, but...” Asriel rubs his forehead with his hand, sighing as he does. “I want to call it helpful, but again...”

“When did they get their licenses? Did they have it Underground as well?” Aofil didn’t really see any car friendly roads last time they were down there. Didn’t really see any the times before either. They know Papyrus has been driving around down there, but with varying degrees of success. If Toriel trusts him with driving the kids though. Can’t be that bad.

“They got it a year or so ago,” Asriel informs while shifting lane to get past an 18-wheeler. Mettaton is portrayed lying down the entire length of the freight, on his side, with one leg bent. The frankly gaudy color scheme is as big a road hazard as any, if not more. His face eventually comes into view, as well as the speech bubble above his mouth. Through a seductive face comes a warning, but it’s more of a tease, considering the font and overall posture of Mettaton as he gives it.

“Warning, explosive and highly flammable fashion inside,” Aofil reads out loud. They shake their head immediately after. “Can’t really tell if it’s a serious warning or not.”

Asriel shrugs at the prospect. “It’s Mettaton.”

“Good point.” By the way… “Has he ever tried to get you to model for him?”

Asriel’s scoff almost has the car swirling across multiple lanes. He gets it under control, and clears his throat of the shock. Aofil checks the rear view mirror for any police, but they seem to be in the clear.

“Has he ever not tried to?” Asriel poses, despite not intending for it to be answered in the slightest. He tugs his striped shirt. “Apparently this isn’t good enough for a Prince such as I, and who wouldn’t be over Mt. Ebott to be appointed Royal Dresser per his own proposal? I just have to sign a few contracts, and then he’ll sort everything out.”

Sounds like Mettaton, alright. 

“I know you’ve done it,” Asriel continues. “You were on his collection reveal, right?”

“Not willingly.”

“Oh, that I could tell.”

“You a fan of fashion?” Aofil asks, but after the sour taste from their memory of the event, it comes out a bit accusatory. They cough once into their hand. “Not that it’s anything wrong with that. I’m not gonna lie and say that I didn’t feel pretty in what he dressed me up in.”

“You certainly did enjoy what Muffet was wearing.”

A loud cough from Aofil signifies the end of that subject of discussion. Change seems appropriate right about now. “Was the show on TV? I’m guessing as much considering the cameras and such.”

“Mom was watching in her office at the time. Well, not really watching, mostly having it on as background noise as she was doing paperwork,” Asriel explains after letting a car pass them irresponsibly fast. “I dropped by to just let her know about something, can’t remember exactly what, and then I glanced you and Muffet on the TV. You didn’t really look well, and then suddenly it cut to commercial just as Muffet shoot out of her chair. I didn’t say anything to mom because...well...”

Right, the evening before. There’s a bit more traffic this time around, what with it being in the middle of the day and all. They should come up on the place where Asriel stopped and stormed down to the beach in a bit too, if the road signs are anything to go by.

Again they’re driving to the church.

Aofil should probably visit their family now that they have the chance. Maybe it’ll help them get a bit more sense out of this.

Question is though, does Asriel want to talk with them as well? He mentioned it before. Aofil looks over to Asriel. He looks quite contemplative. Maybe he’s thinking of what to ask? If he’s gonna ask anything, that is.

“You have a guess what he wants with us?” Aofil poses after glancing the next road sign. A ways left, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“How would I know?” Asriel asks back with a shrug. “I wasn’t the one that talked to him.”

“He did sound like what he said was important. Hopefully he didn’t faint from breathing as fast as he did. Personally, I’ve no idea. That worries me a bit though.”

“Same here, to be honest.” Asriel sighs calmly, letting the end of it peter out through his lips. “I asked Frisk,” Asriel continues with a nod back over his seat, “and they-”

He smacks his palm against his forehead, clashing it loudly. “Dammit,” he exhales under his breath. The small echo from him smacking his forehead has subsided by then though, so his curse is very much audible to Aofil.

They follow where Asriel was nodding. “Keep your eyes on the road,” Aofil says to Asriel turning his head timidly. He swears again as he turns it back.

There’s a very interesting pile of fabric behind Aofil’s seat. Oddly curled-up-human shaped. Aofil grabs the fabric, and pulls it away.

Their conflicted, borderline angry, expression follows their head as they turn forwards again with a tired sigh. “Sit up.” Aofil lets their frustration out along with a tired groan. “And put on a seat belt.”

Aofil rubs their forehead with an exhausted pinch as awkward shuffling takes place behind them. The seat belt warning turns on for a few seconds, before being silenced in conjunction with a metallic click. Aofil looks up into the rear view mirror. “Why?” they ask the stowaway.

Before the stowaway can answer, Aofil sends another question over to Asriel. “And you knew about it?”

Frisk heaves a defeated sigh from the backseat. They lean themselves against the window on their elbow, all the while thinking hard as to what to say. “I just...” They clearly need more time to articulate their excuse.

Aofil’s more interested in the explanation though, so again they ask Asriel. “Does Toriel know?”

“No,” Frisk answers. “Mom doesn’t know.” They meet Aofil’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “Can we keep it that way?”

“She doesn’t already know that you’ve skipped school?” Aofil finds that a bit hard to swallow. “You’re supposed to have a class now, right?”

“Moldessa covers for me.”

Alright, what? “How do you mean?”

“Gerson doesn’t have the best eye left, you know?” Saying that seems to have hurt Frisk a bit. “So right now I’m in the back, sitting next to Moldessa, according to him. He won’t notice that I’ve suddenly turned all slime-like. If he does, well,” Frisk throws a thumb over their shoulder, “we got some distance, and mom’s car.”

“It won’t outrun Papyrus’ though,” Aofil reminds. “He’ll be on our heel faster than Toriel. Pretty sure she’ll be throwing fireballs behind her in an attempt to speed up Papyrus’ car.” Something bigger is on Aofil’s mind though. It’s gnawing at them. A realization. A horrid one. Aofil smacks their lips once. “Have Moldessa done that at some of my lessons?” Aofil turns with a brow furrowed in half accusatory, half frightened. “And if so, how many?”

Frisk drags an imaginary zipper shut across their lips. “Get a warrant,” they say through it.

“But why-”

“I’m not gonna tell you how many times I’ve skipped school, Aofil.” Frisk throws up an accusatory hand. “You’ll relay that to mom.”

“I won’t-”

“Yes.” Frisk nods hard, equally as accusatory. “You will. I’ve already goofed it by confessing that I asked Moldessa to help, but I have other ways.” They snap their finger. “Shouldn’t have said that too...”

“Why skip school to begin with?”

Wow… How old has Aofil gotten? They were sincere in asking that question. Gotta have to ask Alphys to make them a cane the shape of Mettaton’s leg. Aofil leans back into their seat while sighing through their lips. Guess they have to take skateboard back up again.

“We don’t do it a lot,” Frisk tries as a defense.

Aofil’s not old enough to fail picking up on words though. They shimmer their eyes over to Asriel. “We?”

He sighs while shaking his head tiredly. He holds a vacant look for a moment, possibly to steel himself. “When I was...Flowey, I spent time, well, reading. Learning. Just for a way to find out how I could help myself. The more I learned though, the more I learned that I couldn’t help myself. I learned a lot, I learned practically everything there was to learn in the Underground. Still remember some of it, so the classes about magic, the Underground, and such, I’ve already learned to the best of my abilities.”

Asriel holds out a hand that he flexes. After a few seconds of severe tensing, a faint flame appears, only to be blown away by the calm air conditioning. Asriel takes a few deep breaths to recover before he begins to talk again. “And since the best of my abilities was that, I figured that I could do something more useful with my time. Like exercise, or learn how to be an actual prince, or perhaps just learn how to finally do hammer downs on my guitar without the luxury of friction that skin gives.”

One of those things aren’t like the other, but Aofil knows that Asriel would rather talk about the time he died with his best friend before discussing what it’s like being a prince, so for the time being it’s probably best to let that one slide.

However!

“And you?” Aofil asks over their shoulder. “Your excuse disguised as explanation?”

Frisk takes a quick glance to see that Asriel’s busy not looking. They throw their eyes back to Aofil, hard. They mouth a single word.

“Chara.”

Aofil also glances over to Asriel, but he seems busy enough leaning against his knuckles and driving, what Aofil would say too leisurely in any other case, but for now it’s fine. 

“I’m just a quick learner,” Frisk says directly after. “Something I also picked up in the Underground.”

To that, Asriel shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he shook it speaks volume to the mention of the Underground before the Barrier broke. Guess that’s the lesser of two evils, especially when it comes to Chara.

Chara can’t help Frisk anymore though, right? Frisk can talk to Aofil no problem which must mean that Chara is, at most, a faint specter. They still only have Frisk’s word on that, and Chara’s, and Chara’s word that it really was Chara’s word, and…

Either way, Aofil can’t really ask Frisk about it right now, not with Asriel nearby. What they’d love to know though is why Frisk decided to sneak on board.

“Why even skip school to begin with, Frisk? Curiosity?”

“Yeah.”

Fair enough then. 

There’s something else Aofil would like to know too.

“How’s the Underground fairing these days? I know you don’t really think of it so highly before the Barrier broke, but how is it now? Been a while since I visited.”

“It’s fine,” Asriel says with a shrug. “Monsters have moved out, and not a lot of humans have moved in. There are still a few places left that are populated, mostly to keep the CORE up and running.”

Hang on. “Wasn’t the CORE supposed to be decommissioned, or at least shut down? I vaguely remember Toriel saying something about that when we first met.” Aofil taps on their leg as they think. “Yeah, something about that.”

“Cheap and efficient electricity powering Mt. Ebott, and the city around it,” Asriel explains while motioning to the mountain in the distance. “Kept around for that, and with monsters running it along with a few humans. Mostly the reason why monsters still live down in the Underground. Well,” Asriel puts his hand back on the steering wheel, “that and MTT Resort.”

“A popular place for humans to experience monster culture?” Aofil hazards as a guess. Not as quite flamboyant as Mettaton would call it, but it should get the point across. “Is Burgerpants still working there?”

“He’s disappeared without a trace,” Frisk answers. “Took off as soon as Mettaton turned his back on him. I would know, I helped him with that.”

Guess that was just a matter of time before Burgerpants would do that. 

“And yes, that’s what Mettaton advertises down in the Underground.” Frisk arcs their hands into a colorless rainbow. “Come and experience genuine monster culture and cuisine.”

“Without the whole stealing human souls, that is,” Asriel adds. “So it’s up to you if that disqualifies it as genuine monster culture.”

From the sound of it, Asriel could’ve chosen his words better. The tense finally snapped, it seems. Already. They haven’t even reached the Pastor, and it’s already snapped. Asriel curls his lips inwards as a heavy awkwardness fills the car. Glances are traded between all three of the car’s inhabitants, and a unanimous decision is made without a word.

Hush, for now.

The silence holds for quite a while before being involuntarily by Asriel cursing under his breath for missing a turn.

“Two roads down and then make a right,” Aofil offers. “We’ll arrive on the other side, that way.”

More importantly though, they get to see their old lawn.

At every stoplight, Asriel pulls down the flap designed to shield the driver from the sun. Seeing that the sun is behind the car though, Aofil hazards that it’s more for keeping the humans and monsters outside from seeing in and discovering that the prince is driving around.

Asriel flips up the flap again as the light turns green. He has to check the light to the right to see it flipped as the one on his left is covered by the flap.

“Left?” Aofil taps the passenger window with their knuckles. “Why didn’t you take a right like the sign said?”

“This skips having to drive through the city center,” Asriel explains calmly. “It’s gonna be a nightmare there, so I’d rather not.”

“Okay,” Aofil answers.

That means that they won’t see their old lawn again though. Perhaps on the way home instead.

A few minutes later the church finally comes into view. Aofil can’t help but feel a bit insecure laying eyes on the glistening white exterior, maybe frightened? It’s not sitting well with them, that’s for certain. 

What did the Pastor find?

The gravel scrunches underneath the tires as Asriel carefully puts the car into park. He unbuckles himself and steps out to stretch his legs and arms. Aofil does the same. But where’s-

“Greetings, Aofil. Prince.”

Aofil turns around with their arm locked behind their other one behind their neck to see the Pastor sauntering up gracefully to the car. His hands are clasped together, but they’re very tense. His breathing is calming down. Has he been anxious about this as well?

Besides on the phone, that is.

“I do apologize for summoning you over here on such a short notice. As you may know, the Queen and King asked me to compare the old records kept by us humans with the ones down in the Underground in preparation for Frisk’s birthday.”

Aofil and Asriel look at each other. Both shake their head. They’ve both no clue.

The Pastor isn’t fazed by that. “In doing so, I came upon a reference that’s present in both the monster and human records. It details the human mages that sealed the Barrier.”

Aofil and Asriel again trade glances. This time though, it’s a bit more...well, not curious, but something close by.

“Specifically, their lineage. It’s been a debate regarding who those mages were, and what they left behind for humanity.”

The pastor’s head slowly turns over to the graveyard. His mouth quivers as his words fail him. It’s almost as if he’s disappeared, despite standing just in front of Aofil and Asriel. He doesn’t even hear Frisk getting out of the car and walking up to listen in.

“One mage left behind a family,” the Pastor finally manages to say. “A family that...” He puts his balled knuckle up to his mouth. “That I cursed.”

Aofil’s eyes widen. No…

No, don’t. 

Don’t say it!

The Pastor turns back to Aofil. 

“Your family.”


	135. Delving deeper to get up the top of the tree

“If you would kindly follow me downstairs into the library.”

Why is it always in the dang basement? Why can’t it be upstairs?

The old wooden door screeches as it’s open, almost as if it’s in pain. A winding staircase that seems to be older than time itself leads the way downstairs. A cold draft sweeps up, flickering the torches lit on the outer side of the spiral leading down.

The pastor hurries down, faster than Aofil could ever imagine someone his age would, and could.

“Please forgive me for the torches,” the Pastor sends up the staircase. “The electrical system down here is quite unreliable, and I’ve been having troubles getting it to work in conjuncture with magical electricity without fizzling out and sparking like it’s possessed. It’s been a while since I had anyone else down here, so it isn’t the biggest of priorities. I’ve put in an order through the CORE engineers though, so it shouldn’t be too long now?”

“I don’t think he’s noticed me yet,” Frisk whispers to a very uncomfortably hunching Asriel trying to do his best not to get his horns stuck on the low ceiling and his ears and shoulders safely away from the naked torches. He sends back a look that could freeze the open flames back to Frisk, who diverges it to Aofil.

“Why did you find out about this now and not before, again?” they ask further downstairs to the Pastor. “You’ve had the books here for quite a while, right?”

“You could say that.”

“Any from before the Barrier?”

No answer.

Guess that no books existing from before the Barrier was a lie then. Aofil had a subtle suspicion the size of Mt. Ebott before, but now it’s pretty much confirmed.

Or he didn’t hear Aofil asking.

“Frisk’s eighteenth birthday is just over yonder,” the Pastor’s echo explains through some rusty sounds of even older doors being opened. “And for that, the Queen and King asked me to research their human family.”

Asriel almost trips over their sibling as Frisk stops in the middle of their step, frozen, with eyes that pierces through the stone stairs, and through the Earth’s core. Asriel manages to catch his balance by throwing his palms out on either side against the walls.

Sacrificing himself and his shoulders to absolve Frisk of his weight tumbling down the narrow and hard stairs. Arms outstretched on either side, and pain painting his gritted expression.

You could make a reli-

“I was granted access to many an old archives down in the Underground,” the Pastor’s echo continues from below, albeit more distant. “A pilgrimage to discover the shared history lost to time, if you will. It was a humbling experience, and a thoughtful one. I look forward to doing it again someday.”

Frisk flinches violently as Asriel puts a careful hand on their shoulder. He retracts it as Frisk spins their head around while breathing heavily. “S-sorry,” they say after their brain manages to conclude that it’s just Asriel’s gentle hand. “Sorry...”

Aofil stands with one foot on the bottom floor and one foot on the last stair step. They take a step up, but Frisk puts their hand out. “I’m fine,” they say with a careful exhale. “...I’m fine.” Behind them Asriel is shaking his head, but Aofil didn’t need that to confirm to themselves that Frisk is lying about feeling fine. Not when their face is almost as pale as Aofil’s is. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost, or heard of one, in this case.

And Frisk that’s so used to ghosts by now, with Blookie, and Mettaton, and who knows how many other ghost monsters.

Those aren’t a specter of their past though.

“The Underground is a very lovely place, by the way, Prince Asriel. Your father and mother have done good with it.”

Asriel again shakes his head, but this time it’s for himself. Another specter unearthed. Guess the graveyard stretches all the way down here. Left buried, only to be dug up, and the less than favorable revelations it brings.

“Do bring my deepest, and most sincere, thanks to your father for the escort he arranged. I don’t mean to sound rude, but the proposal did strike me as odd. I don’t want to say insulting, but I won’t say that I didn’t feel such when I first heard his offer.”

Asriel finishes massaging his forehead with his hands with a sigh. “He can be a bit of a traditionalist sometimes,” Asriel answers the echo accompanied with an upbeat chuckle. Completely feigned, and the furrowed expression coupled with his jolly chuckle that he’s gotten from Asgore is quite jarring to witness. “If you felt insulted, please accept my apologies on his behalf. He personally invited you to explore the Underground, and as a King, he wouldn’t be showing his hospitality should he leave you alone there without a guide of sorts. I do understand that it could be seen, and taken, as an insult, but I’m sure my father meant for you to feel welcomed. He was honored that you accepted his proposal, and he wanted to show it.”

Asriel returns to his massaging of his forehead.

That’s the first time Aofil’s seen Asriel act anything near a prince. They shake their head to make sure that they’re awake.

“I’ve no doubts about that, young Prince,” the Pastor answers back along with a similar upbeat chuckle. “My mood was shifted quite drastically when...” A loud and wishful sigh flows throughout the basement, almost extinguishing the torches. “When the monster presented herself as my escort. Dogoressa, of the Royal Guard. She...” Another sigh sweeps through the basement. “She reminded me of a dog I had when I was but a child. I know it’s something I shouldn’t do, equate monsters to animals, but...”

A single sob finds its way up the staircase.

“She even wagged her tail the same way when I gave her a pat on her head. Her fur felt the same, down to each and every hair. She called me a pup when we first met, just like how mother described to me how my old Tindra used to think of me as. Unlike Tindra though, Dogoressa apologized for the slip of her tongue, but by that time I had already traveled back to my youth, so I didn’t think anything else of it.”

The Pastor chuckles for himself, filling the basement with a childlike wonder.

“Walking together with Dogoressa, it gave me energy I thought was lost to me because of my age, but here I was, gladly walking along and keeping Dogoressa’s pace. Thinking back, it gives me hope for the future of our collective living. Such symbiosis, human and monster, side by side, lost for so many years, but finally back together.”

Aofil can’t help but smile at the unfiltered hope oozing from the Pastor’s voice. They glance up at Frisk and Asriel, who both have managed to drag small smiles themselves.

It’s good. They should all take it as such.

“It’s a miracle I could even focus on my research. Granted, we did take a bit longer of a walk...” The Pastor clears his throat. “We took a bit longer of a walk for me to enjoy the sights, as Dogoressa so gently put it.”

Frisk and Asriel manage their way to the bottom of the stairs. They both look left and right, and then look to Aofil.

Right…

Maybe they should’ve listened from where the echo came from. Aofil puts up their index finger in the air. The Pastor’s bound to say something else any second now.

“Just like Tindra...”

They bend their finger down in the direction the Pastor’s voice came from, and the trio sets off. Aofil do sure wonder why the Pastor bothered to lit both diverging paths with torches, and not just the one leading to the library. Maybe he’s had business down the other way.

“Prince Asriel, you wouldn’t know where Dogoressa is stationed, would you?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Asriel replies to the echo. They’re nearing it. Must just be around the corner. “I can’t make any promises about it though. I’m sure that if you were to pen a goodly worded letter, my father would take it into consideration.”

“I thank you for that, Prince Asriel, from the bottom of my soul.”

The Pastor is around two corners, to be precise, standing with a key ring in his hands, flipping through them like an uninteresting book. He mumbles under his breath, counting each use for the keys. There are a few mentions of dungeons and cells, a bit too many for Aofil’s taste.

That is to say, any mention at all.

“Ah!” the Pastor finally exclaims, his voice bouncing against the wall like a pinball ball thrown by an angry Undyne. “Here it is.” He waves the key to the three figures behind him. Wait a second… Three?

“Frisk?” he asks, confused. “What are you...What are you doing here? I didn’t summon for you.”

Frisk smiles while putting a hand behind their neck. Aofil has to fight their eyes from rolling out of their skulls. Frisk has done a few too many anime nights with Undyne and Alphys if they think that’s appropriate to do. “I...I...” Frisk stutters as they think.

They even pause between talking like in Alphys’ animes. Aofil should probably bring that up with Toriel. First they have to make sure the Pastor doesn’t smell foul play, but Frisk has kinda fallen on the first hurdle at that, with the hurdle being a very smelly trashcan.

“I took them with me,” Aofil steps in to explain. Although, maybe they should’ve thought about how to explain before doing so… They glance over to the two kids standing with bated breath, looking anxiously at Aofil. “It...I took Frisk with me because the two of them are inseparable, and they always bring another perspective to things. Might help with the direness, should it appear.”

Not the best explanation and or excuse, but it’ll have to do. Not really more Aofil can think of. Nothing that they would like to say to the Pastor, that is.

“I guess.” The Pastor runs his eyes back and forth over Frisk and Asriel, who both smile as innocently as they can. “As long as you’re comfortable with this, Aofil.”

Guess they have to be. “I am.”

The Pastor lets slip the upright key, and it falls into his fingers. The lock that turns sounds very old, but also very robust. Cast iron, judging by the strain the Pastor undergoes to open the door. He motions for the trio to enter.

The library smells...like an old library, funnily enough. Too old, even. Doesn’t even smell like books inside, but some form of parchment, and very unfamiliar ink. The soft light of the surrounding torches gives very poor lighting though. The Pastor must be straining his eyes reading in this darkness.

“Seems that I’ve misplaced my hook.” The Pastor turns to Asriel while pointing upwards. “Would you kindly, Prince Asriel?”

From the roof hangs a large plastic container, like one you bring on a camping trip. On it is a taped on flashlight, which Asriel just barely manages to flick on, causing an explosion of light that illuminates the entirety of the library as the water inside the container begins to glow brightly.

“An old trick I learned as a boy while camping with Tindra and my family,” the Pastor explains with a proud chuckle. “If you fill a large enough container you could white out an entire neighborhood.”

“Should you really have a large body of water dangling above all of these ancient texts?” Asriel asks with a bit of worry peeking through in his voice as he puts a hand up to stop the swinging caused by him flicking on the flashlight.

“You’re correct, Prince, but it is what I have at the moment. I’m just as worried as you are about the texts being destroyed, which is why I’ve moved the tables away from it.”

Aofil second guess as to why the tables are positioned in a strange half circle would’ve been for a ritual of sorts. They’re not sure if they could handle one right about now.

The Pastor sits down at a table filled with rolled up scrolls and opened books. From his frock he produces a pair of thick spectacles that he so gracefully flips open and slide up his nose. He motions for two chairs positioned on the other side. “Please.”

Asriel brings with him a third chair for himself as he beckons for Frisk to sit next to Aofil. He sits down very carefully on his chair, as even Aofil’s weight made it creak. His knees almost touch his chin, but he makes the best out of it.

The Pastor opens up a scroll and turn it over for his guests to see. “Are you schooled in this, my Prince?”

Aofil’s never seen these symbols in their entire life, and judging by the perplexed faces of the children on their right, so haven’t Frisk nor Asriel. The Pastor keeps the scroll facing the trio as he closes his books with a thumb to keep where he was as he checks the titles of the books. “This one is from the ages before the Barrier, when humans and monsters lived together. One of the few scrolls translated from monster to human, back in the day.”

The Pastor finally finds the book he’s been looking for, and he slides that one over as well. “This is the translation.”

Aofil’s brow furrows low as they glance the title.

“A Maiden Vowage,” they read out loud with borderline disgust.

“The literal translation is ‘Made In Love’,” the Pastor informs, a bit too proud for the subject matter. “It details, what it considers, important information in how to seduce maiden’s of the era.” He puts his fingers on the top of the scroll. “Quote, a helpful navigation of maidens and the seducing thereof, for the most common commoner, to the proudest of princes, unquote.”

Asriel’s eyes meet the Pastor’s.

“You wouldn’t suppose that your father took help of this?” the Pastor asks friendly, but with brimming curiosity.

“I’m not going to ask him,” comes a quick, and emotionless, response.

“Fair.”

“So,” Frisk finally says, after a silent minute of comparing paragraphs, “this is what helped you translate, Pastor?”

The Pastor spins another book around. A more modern one, and scribbled with handwriting. “With it I’ve managed to translate the old scripture into something legible for today. Something that I found very curious was that the magic usage was almost translated word by word, barring a few changes about the soul.” The pastor taps his finger on the scroll. “The monsters put emphasis on it being from their being.” He moves his finger over to the old book. “Whereas the humans put emphasis on it being from their soul. There are a few changes regarding skin, fur, scales, and the likes, but that’s not important.”

The Pastor sweeps the table, knocking down everything except a parchment and three books. “This is why I summoned you.” He pushes forward the parchment. “This is a document detailing a visit one of the mages paid a monster friend of his. The tone of it is, grim, both clearly knowing that it were to be their last meal together. What you’re looking for though, is this.” The Pastor runs his finger over a series of symbols. “This is the name of the mage.”

Aofil glances back and forth between the Pastor’s translation of the symbols and the parchment. The first name they can say, but that last name…It would twist their tongue tighter than a master scout’s knot.

“Cter,” they read.

“You parents wanted to name you Cter, Aofil. It was between Cter and Aofil when I met you for the first time. However, I persuaded them otherwise.”

“How so?”

“There are more letter in the alphabet than ‘C’. How many families do you know of that has more than one child that starts with the same letter?”

Good point.

“It does strengthen my theory.” The Pastor flips open a book, and slides it to Aofil. “This is a record of the families in this city. It dates back a couple hundred years.” He slides over another. “And a couple more.” And another. “And a couple more. Follow your tree back, Aofil. See where it leads.”

Aofil runs their finger up their mother’s line.

“Your father, sorry,” the Pastor corrects.

Aofil switches branches, running their finger past their father.

“Then mother,” the Pastor says again.

Up the tree.

“Father.”

Further up.

“Then mother.”

Even further.

“Mother and mother.”

The book ends, and Aofil moves over to the next one. They only now realize that neither them, Asriel, or Frisk, has taken a single breath during the process.

“Father.”

The word echoes around in the room.

“Mother.”

As Aofil’s finger climbs the tree.

“Father, mother, father.”

Slithering like a snake up the lines drawn, through names Aofil’s never heard of, but that they share blood with.

“We’re actually related, you and I, from where your finger is now, Aofil. However, it’s on the mother’s side, whereas you need to continue the father’s family.”

The second book draws to an end.

“This is where you have to pay attention to the last name, Aofil. Not only on your family line, but the ones around as well. Let me show you.” The Pastor flips through the last book. The old pages proving inefficient, as they almost crumble just by the Pastor touching them.

“See here.” The Pastor taps various names on the page he’s on. “See how the last name of these people are vaguely the same, but with a couple of letters jumbled, and a couple changed out? My theory is that it was planned. To gradually remove the name of the mages out of history so that the monsters would remain sealed. The war would fade over time, and turn into legend, but the more immediate threat of someone discovering the family of the mages would require their names to be forgotten much quicker.”

With a final flick back to where Aofil’s family continued, the Pastor motions for Aofil to finish their journey. “Two fathers and a mother left, Aofil. Then tell me what you find.”

Aofil’s finger slows down to a stunned crawl as it nears the top of the branch. “Cter,” they read in a whisper.

Again.

No…

No, that’s too much.

“I’m afraid it is so, Aofil,” the Pastor says carefully as he reads Aofil’s feigning expression. “You are a descendant of one of the mages that created the Barrier.” He turns his head even more carefully over to Asriel. “And so was Chara.”

Aofil returns to the scroll again. They bring along the translation book. Something has to-

The Pastor puts his hand on the book. “I’ve checked it multiple times, Aofil.”

But Aofil hasn’t! They jank the book away from the Pastor’s grasp.

“The prophecy...” Asriel whispers quietly, his breathing turning into short gasps. “It’s...”

The Pastor nods. “Aofil’s family is-”

“Shut up!” Aofil slams their hand on the table. “We’re not confirming anything until I’ve done this myself!”

The Pastor, Frisk, and Asriel all recoil back from Aofil’s outrage. It shut them up though, so it did its purpose. Aofil returns to the name again.

C...t...e...r

Aofil drags their finger harder on the scroll as they translate again.

C...t...e...r

Dammit!

“This explains so much, Aofil,” the Pastor offers friendly. “It should be a relief. Believe it to be.”

Aofil fringe casts a dark shadow over their eyes as they snap their head up to the Pastor. “It means that there is another goddamn revelation about my family,” they say with a vicious snarl. “One was too many, and I’ve had more than a handful. I’m sick and tired of everything being dug up and displayed, pranced around with the dead that should’ve be long buried. It’s I that I have to deal with the consequences, the meaning of it all, and it is I that have to lay awake at night pondering what it means, if it means anything.”

Aofil drags a couple of long and anxious breaths. “So just let me do this. Please!”

After a couple of silent seconds, the Pastor nods. “As you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Aofil returns to the scroll, but this time to the last name of Cter. Their finger press against the scroll, and each letter again spell out the same name as the one at the top of Aofil’s family tree. Aofil’s fingers finds their way up to the bridge of their nose, which they pinch hard.

“Dammit...”

They remove their finger and-

Wait…

Their fingers. They’re black? Aofil rubs them together.

Ink?

They look down at the scroll again, and their eyes widen.

“How was the scroll written, Pastor?” Aofil shoots their widened eyes over to the Pastor.

“From what I can tell it’s some form of magic. It’s been pristine all these years, and no ink could...”

The Pastor’s words fail him as Aofil shows their stained fingers, as well as their painted nose bridge. He lunges out of his chair, and throws his hand over the table, snatching the scroll hastily. He flinches as he reads the bottom of it. “No...What?” He drags his finger like Aofil did, and stares at his blackened finger. He does the same across the rest of the paragraphs written on the scroll, but all is does is smear the ink he already has on his finger until it eventually dries out.

“Only the last name...”

The Pastor falls down into his chair again while staring at his finger.

“It’s not even close now with the ink gone...Not even close to your forefather’s name.”

The Pastor blinking visage finds Aofil’s heavily breathing one.

“You’re not a descendant, Aofil.”

Aofil’s lips begin to tug.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” The Pastor mouth begins to stretch impatiently. “F-forgive me for c-calling you here. I-I...I’m sorry.”

Aofil’s smile shines brighter than the home brewed lantern hanging above.

“Don’t be.”


	136. In the shade of the family tree

“Oh boy...”

Aofil’s tailbone almost cracks as if hit by a sledgehammer as they fall heavily into the bench. Gravel shoots out from the heel of their shoes as they push their legs forward tiredly. Their arms flop out over the backrest, and their neck finds rest on it as well.

“Do I really have to tell you what happened, or did you feel it yourselves? Wait...”

Aofil rolls their head over to the side so that the church comes back into view. They trace where the stairs leading down would be, two spirals down, and then…

No, the underground corridors trailed off to the other side of the graveyard.

“Guess I have to be the one carrying the bad news that we’re not related to one of the mages that created the Barrier. Maybe we’re related to the others, but not Cter.”

The aspen flusters.

Aofil leans forwards with their fingers pressing against their mirrored counterpart. “I know, right, what a bummer,” they say with a chuckle amid their sigh. 

They shake their head. 

“Can’t even muster enough to make it sound at the least like I’m not lying about feeling down about it.” With another chuckle, Aofil lifts their gaze up to the gravestones across the gravel road. “Would’ve explained your magic, dad, if anything.”

The aspen’s leafs die down, with only a small whisper audible from it. The light shining through the gaps between the leafs bob gently on the headstones, framing the last name of the ones that left Aofil behind.

If Aofil squints hard enough they can almost see their last name being somewhat close to that of Cter. Not the language she would’ve written it though. It would take quite a bit of weathering for the text on Aofil’s family’s tombstones to even come close to looking like those old symbols.

Oh, that’s a morbid thought.

“Cter and Chara,” Aofil says out loud as the wind picks up. “Can’t say that I would be opposed to having that name. It would stop people from asking whether the emphasis is one the ‘o’ or the ‘i’, for instance.” They turn their head over to their mother. “I’m not saying that you chose wrong.” And then their father. “Or you. Whoever suggested it between you two. Or whoever turned it down.”

Aofil leans back again. “Did you have any other ideas for Chara? Maybe a name of one of the other mages? The Pastor didn’t mention it, so I’m guessing not. It would’ve taken more than me finding out about the ink to convince him, should that have been the case. One suggested name being the same as the one of some ancient mage had is a coincidence, two might’ve been a bit more than a coincidence. Or maybe he doesn’t know the names of the other mages. Who knows?”

A leaf detaches from one of the furthest branches of the aspen, sailing gently down like, well, a leaf in the wind. It lands on the bench next to Aofil. They pick the leaf up and begin writing an imaginary parchment with the stem of it. “That ink though.” They tip the stem in an empty ink container made out of air. Aofil then inspects the stem, and the invisible ink dripping from it. “I wonder how old it is. Didn’t seem modern. Not that I would know,” Aofil adds while circling their hand, flicking their imaginary ink as they do so. “The Pastor did seem to though.”

Aofil writes Cter’s name on the make-believe parchment. Her first name. “Cter, the powerful mage that helped sealed the monsters.” And her last name. “Who had a monster friend in the midst of it all. The monster penned her a letter, ending it with well wishes, despite knowing what was about to happen. They were good friends, but they were good friends on two side of a conflict that flared into a war to decide the future of the Surface.”

Aofil finishes penning the letter, punctuating Cter’s name with a dot of their wrist.

“I already know who won the war, we all do.” Aofil glances over to Frisk and Asriel sitting on a swing each on the playground next to the church gently rocking back and forth. They seem to be talking too, albeit with a more responsive other party. Guess they’re done talking with the Pastor by now. “That war’s long behind us though, but it wouldn’t have been when the ink was written. That much the Pastor could deduce by comparing it to some other books he had.”

Aofil rubs their fingers together after placing their leaf pen behind their ear. “Not the most waterproof of proofs, but I’ll take it. I’ll take it even with the mountain of salt to rival Ebott as a side order. What’s nibbling at my mind though is why someone would change Cter’s last name. All the ink did was close some of the symbols, so it could’ve just been a child coloring.”

As the wind throws itself at Aofil’s face, they can do nothing else but nod. “Yeah, I’m not so keen on that theory either. Another one I have is that some relative of Cter wanted to hide their own identity. It would coincide with the Pastor’s theory of the last names slowly morphing away from Cter’s and the other mages’. It could also be that one of my ancestors was a real diva to match Mettaton.” Aofil leans forward to the graves. “Mettaton is a monster that believes himself to be brighter than the Sun, just for context.” They lean back. “So maybe that one ancestor changed the name to bring fame to themselves, and their family.”

A more comforting wind dances around Aofil. “Yeah, I’d rather the first one happened too.” Despite the comforting wind, Aofil feels the need to readjust themselves on the bench. Their last theory is… “I have one more theory, and that is that someone wanted to frame us, or bring some sort of malicious intent. I can’t figure out what that would incite though. Maybe another of your predecessors knew magic too, dad? It’s either that or someone knew about Chara and the Underground even before we did. The Pastor is the only one I could remotely think of, but he was the one inviting me and Asriel over! So that would make no damn sense!”

Aofil throws their arms up so haphazardly that they almost pop out of their sockets. “Or maybe Cter changed her last name to ours and we really are related!”

The bench’s legs sink down a bit more into the ground as Aofil’s hands come crashing down on it. They grunt, half from the pain, and half just because they have to after saying all of this. A very tired raspberry flops out of Aofil’s mouth, flicking thick drops of spit onto the gravel below them.

“And that’s just one of the things that has happened today...”

A silent gust picks up Aofil’s fringe only to drop it back down on their forehead a moment later. They look around to make sure it wasn’t Sans, and then sit up straight.

“Things have happened since the last time we spoke, but I’m pretty sure you’ve guessed that by now.” 

Another leaf falls from the branch above them and lands on Aofil’s face.

“Right…” Aofil clears their throat. “Since last we spoke, I’ve...” They bring forth their arm. “I’ve come to terms with some things,” Aofil explains while running their fingers through their fur. “I’ve decided to move back to the monsters. I had to move away, and I would do it again if I could go back and make that decision again. I just couldn’t be near anything that would remind me. I was running away from inevitability though, with both my legs tied together.”

A conflicted sigh competes with the warm wind stroking Aofil’s cheek. They feel it heat up, but only because of the wind. Not their curse. That one’s gone now. “That too, actually. It wasn’t a curse, it was just my broken soul. It’s whole now, thanks to Asriel.” Aofil nods over to the Boss Monster rocking back and forth on his swing. “He’s sealed me up with a piece of his soul, and in return he got to use the sliver that escaped when you healed me, dad. I’m getting ahead of myself though.”

Aofil’s head bobs slowly as they try and think how they’re gonna structure this.

“Once I found out that it was all because of me that I was feeling what I was feeling, I...I lashed out. When Alphys found no trace of any form of curse, that I only had a normal red soul, it...it just wasn’t compatible with how I felt about it. It couldn’t be true, because then I would’ve been wrong.” Aofil’s lips drag into a conflicted smile. “Turns out I was wrong though.”

They sigh again to try and calm themselves down. “Afterwards I met with Chara.”

The wind stops.

“Yup, I had the same reaction.” Aofil chuckles gently at the similarity. “Chara...” Their smile fades just as quickly as it formed. “Chara wished you well.”

A deaf man could hear Aofil’s lie.

A blind woman could see the lie on their face.

A mute man would call out their bullshit.

But the wind…

It surrounds Aofil, like a gingerly hug, just as warm as if it was real.

“Chara wished you well...”

They won’t push that lie any further though.

It would probably wake the dead if they did, and not in a good way. Not like Asriel, that is.

“With Chara’s help I managed to finally muster enough strength to sit down and talk with the monsters. It was good. I needed to cry.”

Aofil dries away a tear from their eye.

“Guess I need to now as well.”

They remove one from their other eye as well.

“Then Undyne and Alphys installed legs on the house.”

Again the wind stops.

“Yup, same reaction here too.”

Aofil lifts their head. “I swear it is true,” they plead to the headstones. “The house is no longer in this city, it’s in the Monster City. Walked the entire length. It has a personality, despite Alphys saying that it doesn’t, and almost all of the furniture inside follow the same pattern.”

The wind keeps still.

“I swear this is true!” Aofil pleads again with their hands gesturing wildly. “I wouldn’t be able to make that up even if I tried! The legs are pink and black too! Why would I ever in my entire life conjure them up to be those two colors?”

The aspen rattles for just a moment, almost like a snicker that managed to escape.

“Thank you!” Aofil joins with their own snicker. “First night I slept in it, first night I slept well for years, calm, relaxed, I dreamed the strangest dream I’ve head in my entire life. I dreamed that the monsters transformed into human women. Was very strange...”

Aofil clears their throat again.

“Anyways, from that day forward I’ve done progress with myself. I’m back to teaching at Toriel’s school, and it’s been going fine. Barring that one time I almost set the roof on fire.” Aofil extends their index finger. “Almost!” they repeat. “Which did settle the debate whether or not the insulation above the roof panels contained asbestos, so at least we got something out of it, even if it’s lung cancer.”

Aofil’s arms cross as they lean back again in the bench. 

“I guess that’s better than the entire school being engulfed in flames, but we’ll see later should any long term effects come into play.”

Aofil clears their throat for a third time.

“Guess long term is now. Could also be the dry and cold air in the church library. I’ll ask Toriel if she can’t heal it up when I return home.” Aofil leans forward with an eager grin stretching their cheeks. “You should’ve seen her face when I first allowed her to heal me proper after I smashed my thumb with a hammer when I tried to repair a plank that came loose during the house’s marathon to Monster City.”

Aofil extends their pristine thumb with no indication of ever being hit by a hammer. “I had Alphys disable the pain subroutine on the house while mine was firing on all cylinders. Afterwards I had Toriel heal my thumb. Few things have shone brighter than her face when I asked her, I gotta tell you. She might’ve felt a bit of Asriel’s presence when she did though, which reminds me.”

Aofil saunters their thumb over Asriel’s way. 

“How about I muddle the family tree even further?”

The aspen shakes viciously.

“Right, yes. Sorry, things have been moving so fast I’m not sure whats appropriate any more,” Aofil sighs out with a hand massaging their forehead. “My head is too full with all that’s happened it doesn’t have room anymore.”

Aofil lets the wind envelope them for a while before beginning again.

“Alright.” They put a hand over their chest. “You see, when Asriel came back, he came back with the sliver of soul left behind when you healed me, dad. I guess it dragged the fusion out of me, or something. You could make any wild explanation in the world and it would sound plausible to me. If him having my soul inside of him technically makes him your son is up to you to decide. Toriel and Asgore still claims him as their own, so there might be some debate if you decide to make him your own as well.”

The wind rustles the aspen almost like a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. Aofil joins it.

“Would make him and Chara siblings for real, which I’m sure he would’ve wanted before. Not sure what he wants now, but we’ll find out soon enough when I decide to wave him over. If I decide to,” Aofil corrects. “I’ve had enough revelations today to last two lifetimes for normal humans, but normality isn’t really a thing when you live in the same neighborhood that I do, and have the friends I have.”

Aofil arms once again find themselves crossed over their chest, and their face sunken down in realized defeat. “Worst part of it is that I find it normal myself. Of course there’s never a normal and quiet lunch, not when I still insist on buying the expensive ketchup which Sans seems so fond of. Not when I decide to eat outside on my patio in full view of Undyne as she works out in her backyard. Not when I tell myself that it’s only because I get free food that I go to Muffet’s Spider Cafe.”

Aofil fringe bounces up and down as they chuckle to themselves.

“Or when I agree to take care of her pet in an attempt to solicit information using a translator built by a monster and lent over to another monster who used it for cleaning purposes. You know, the usual Sunday afternoon.” Aofil shrugs their shoulders. “And also your house is standing in a half insulted squat because your neighbor decided to call it rude names. Everyone has a house that gets insulted when your friend points out the flaking paint on its knots, right?” Aofil asks with their arms spread wide.

No answer.

“Right...”

Aofil’s neck starts itching from the dust that fell on it down under the church. The sweat from the warm sun irritates a bit, it seems.

“I said before that I would make the same choice when I moved away,” Aofil says after dragging their hand to get the worst of the dust away from their neck. “Now that I’m back though, I wouldn’t want to trade it away. I’d like less revelations that shake the foundation of my understanding of the world, sure, but the monsters, they’re a part of me now.”

Aofil taps their chest. “Literally as well.” Their tapping calms down until their hand rests still. “Don’t take this the wrong way now.” Aofil inhales long through their nose as they clutch their shirt. “But...I feel like they’re my family.”

The wind in the aspen moves through it like thick syrup, like it’s suddenly sapped of strength. The calm rustling hangs in the air for a long while before the wind picks up again, sending another leaf that lands in Aofil’s hair.

“You will always be my family, but...you’re dead, and the monsters can give me the warmth you can’t right now. I talked about replacing you last time we spoke, and I still don’t want to. They will never replace you, but they can be there when you can’t.”

Aofil reaches up to grab the leaf in their hair. They spin it between their fingers.

“There won’t be a day where I’m not thinking about you, or miss the warmth I have to seek elsewhere for. Never ever believe that to not be the case.”

The leaf’s stem snaps, and its rapid spinning has it flailing in the air before landing between Aofil’s feet. They look down at it, seeing a drop fall down on it. They look up, but there’s not a cloud in sight.

“I’m still debating in my head if it was really you I talked to when I died, and when I fused with Asriel. I want to believe. I want to believe it so much, but since Chara didn’t remember what happened when I brought those times up, I’m not sure.”

Aofil looks over to Asriel and Frisk again.

“Guess he’s going through something similar, but living it instead. He’s a memory come to life, so what is he, really?”

Their head shakes tiredly.

“He’s whatever he wants himself to be. Doesn’t really matter, as long as we all say that he’s alive. Doesn’t matter if he has my soul in him. What he lacks in magic he makes up in strength. He’s Toriel and Asgore’s son. He’s Asriel, the prince of the monsters. If he walks like a monster, speaks like a monster, then what does it matter if his magic is weak?”

Aofil scoffs while letting their head fall down.

“Besides monsters being made out of magic...”

They snap it upright again.

“And then we have me, clinging to memories that are literally dead and buried. Quite the opposite poles we make, him and I. His memory came back to life, whilst mine stays dead. Guess that’s a plus for a monster to have, being able to come back from being just a flower.”

The wind blows through Aofil’s hair, clearing it of dandruff.

“Monsters become flowers, whereas human become trees.”

Aofil stands up and walks up to the aspen, putting their hand on the sturdy trunk. Listening.

But no one came.

Their hand slips down at their side, and they seat themselves under the dancing shadows of the leafs above between two thick roots sprouting from the ground.

“That thing about being normal kinda fell at the first hurdle with me talking to graves and trees, now didn’t it?”

Aofil quells a heavy sob. They feel it roll down every nook of their throat before planting itself uncomfortably in their lungs. They cough it out.

“That’s also something I realized when I came back.”

And another.

“It’s just been me talking to myself in an attempt to make sense of everything. It’s been me putting my problems elsewhere than myself. Trying to cope with being me, being confused, scared, alone…”

Aofil reaches up with their hand, only to have it fall down.

“Who else could I talk to? Who else would listen? Understand? The only family I had was dead, and only my family could even come close to understand.”

A small smile breaks through the dark sorrow resting heavily across Aofil’s face.

“But now that I have a family around me again. Now that I have friends that I know know about me, I’ve come to realize that...”

Aofil’s head swivels over to Asriel again.

“That your memory is as alive as I want it to be, just like how Asriel is as alive as he wants himself to be. I might’ve talked to myself, but who’s to say that you haven’t been listening? It’s been a cold splash of water against my face, but it’s been for good, I think.”

Their head turns back to the gravestones.

“I’m still gonna visit, because that’s what I’m gonna choose to believe what your memories are. Alive.”

Aofil pushes themselves upright. They cross their arms over their legs.

“If a sliver of my soul can survive all this time to be enough for Asriel to come back to life.”

A couple of knocks from Aofil on the trunk has a bird from a few branches up looking around very curiously.

“Then what’s not to say that you’re all watching over me right now in here?”

Aofil leans back again, closing their eyes as they put their clasped hands over their chest.

“I’ll bring flowers with me next time. I promise.”

A few seconds later, a leaf lands gently on their face.

Aofil blows it away.

“Seems your own memories are very much alive too.”


	137. Tending to the past

“Aofil?”

Hm? What?

Aofil’s eyes are viciously attacked by a blinding light that has them putting their arm up to try and shield their precious vision. The fur on their arm shines almost as bright as it reflects harshly, so they’re forced to switch arms. “What?” they ask sleepily after a yawn.

“You feeling alright?”

“Yeah?” Aofil saunters up into a sitting position with their arm still above their eyes. “What?”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No?”

No, wait, looks like they did.

“Yes,” Aofil corrects. “Guess I did.”

Asriel and Frisk share a glance.

“Are you alright?” Frisk asks again.

“Yes, yes, I am,” Aofil answers while making an effort to stand up. They take support on the aspen trunk behind them. “Just fell asleep, that’s all. Been a lot to take in today.”

Asriel agrees to that with a solemn nod. “It has.”

“What did the Pastor say about your family, Frisk?” Aofil brushes their jeans and shirt off. “That why you stayed behind and talked with him?”

“Not really,” Asriel answers in Frisk’s stead. “I asked him why he called for me too. The things he brought up seemed to only be about you.”

“Chara?” Aofil hazards as a guess.

Asriel nods. “Chara. But seeing that you and Cter aren’t relatives.” He shrugs with his palms up. “Then his theory about the prophecy crumbled like the self esteem of Blookie’s snails.”

Blookie has snails? Snails with worse confidence?

Is that even possible?

“Anyways,” says Frisk through blowing their lips, “turns also out that he’d busied himself with Cter so much that he didn’t have time to do what mom and dad sent him down into the Underground for.”

Is Aofil supposed to apologize for that? Frisk seems a bit conflicted about it all, and Aofil’s not even asked if they want to know about their biological parents.

“Do you want to know about your biological parents, Frisk?”

Might as well ask while the opportunity is out in the open.

Literally.

Frisk drags a long and sorrowful sigh as an initial answer. “No, I don’t,” comes after a short pause as they pinch the bridge of their nose. They avert their eyes towards the church. “I asked him not to put any effort into my family tree. It can stay cut off at the stump for all I care.”

Aofil steals a glance from Asriel, who shrugs.

Guess he’s never heard the vicious snarl Frisk just did too.

“What if-”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Frisk realizes the sound of their voice after catching Asriel craning his neck back in stunned bafflement. They sigh irritably, mostly for themselves. “I’ve seen the impact that digging up the past has had. I’ve lived it myself. I’ve dug it up, and I’ve buried it, and I’ve dug it up again. If I can make the choice to keep at least something buried, then I’ll take it.”

“But what if-”

“No what ifs.” Frisk slashes the air in front of them horizontally with their hand. Had it been against the aspen it would’ve cut it in half. “If I find out that my parents put me away for adoption for reasons beyond their control, that me being stuck in that heinous building for the years of my life that are supposed to be looked back on and remembered fondly, is not because of reasons that are evil, but because of reasons that are tragic, then it’ll just...”

Frisk drags their hand over their face, sighing heavily into it. “I don’t know what I’ll do, and I don’t like that feeling. I don’t want to feel that mom and dad aren’t my mom and dad. I don’t want to put more on their shoulders, or mine.” Their hand moves to their chest, which they press against hard. “I’m Frisk Dreemurr, and that’s the only name I want to have. No human last name. I don’t even want to imagine having one. I’m Frisk Dreemurr. I’m no one else than that.”

The silence that follows is long and heavy, with the three trading looks and glances with each others underneath the wallowing movements of the aspen leafs.

“Besides,” Frisk says after feeling the weight of the silence hang a bit too heavily on them, “I’ve been on the news and in the paper more times than I can count, and no one has come and claimed that I’m their child. Not a single one.”

That’s fair, but…

“Maybe they believe you to have a life they could never give, and-”

Frisk rolls their head back with an angry grunt. “Stop! Just stop! I just said that I didn’t want to hear anything about it, Aofil! Maybe you want to have your entire family tree decorated like you’re about to put gifts underneath it, but I don’t! I’ve been generous and given my all to everyone else my entire life, just let me be egoistic just this once!”

Aofil is forced to take a step back while putting their palms up towards Frisk. “Alright, alright. Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Frisk breathes out. “Thanks, Aof. I really mean it. Sorry for yelling at you.”

“No problem, we’ve all had a rough couple of days, we’re all tired.”

Frisk looks past Aofil at the spot they found them sleeping. “That why you fell asleep?” The question almost sounds like an apology, and Asriel joins with it an anxious bite on his lip.

“No, that was because...” Aofil clears their throat. “Reasons.”

Reasons very obvious, but reasons they’d rather not say out loud. Asriel and Frisk can clearly tell though, as they both turn around towards the gravestones of Aofil’s family.

“Can I...”

Asriel turns his head back around to Aofil with his eyes looking down and his lips curling back as if preparing for a ‘no’. “Can I talk to them a bit?” Again the question sounds like a deep apology. “Ask them something?”

Aofil puts their hand forward as a friendly encouragement. “Go ahead.” Maybe it’ll be good for him. “I promised you before, didn’t I?”

“You told me to ask you later,” Asriel corrects. “I guess this is later though.”

“It is.” Aofil nods. “So go ahead, you have my blessing.”

Not really exactly what Aofil wanted to say, but it will have to suffice. They’re a bit curious about what Asriel wants to ask, that’s something they have to admit.

He kneels down in front of the gravestones with his hands calmly placed palms up on his thighs. He rolls his shoulders, all the while inhaling deeply. He raises his head skywards to breathe out.

Once his head returns to facing the tombstones, he opens his mouth slowly.

“Were you happy that Chara disappeared?”

What the fuck?

A bolt of rage shoots up Aofil’s spine, and their curious hand turns angry as it descends from calmly caressing their chin to clenching at their side.

What the absolute fuck!

But when they put their hand on the trunk behind them to push off, they feel a calming presence run up from it through their arm. Aofil turns towards the tree as a gingerly breeze ruffles the fur on their arm. The wind sweeps around them, taking with it their anger.

As the breeze passes Asriel, he winces. His teeth grit together painfully as if the breeze were made out of needles.

Might as well be, seeing that it brought with it Aofil’s anger.

Asriel breathes out the pain. “I can’t really put it any less hurtful,” he says with care to the gravestones in front of him. “When Chara was down in the Underground, what they spoke of you was horrible. That their parents were the reason of their hatred against humanity. How they also felt betrayed that their only friend, their own twin, refused to go along with their plan. The only one they could trust in their life...turning against them when it really mattered. They made me promise to be better than the humans, to be better than the family they came from. I...I was too scared when the time came to not break that promise.”

Aofil sinks down with the bark of the aspen scraping against the length of their back. They land ungracefully on the ground. Their arm finds rest on their bent knee, and their fist begin to clutch.

They don’t want to hear this…

“At the time I was in agreement with them. How could I not? They were my best friend, the hope of the Underground. They spoke of how the humans still were the monsters, metaphorically. When we...died...together...it reinforced what Chara said about the humans. How horrible they were. Why else would’ve the humans attacked us? Despite seeing a tall and scary monster walking sorrowfully with a small child in its arms only to attack the village unprovoked.”

Asriel’s scoff is painful.

For all that hear it.

“So in a way, what happened before Chara fell led directly to the seven humans being targeted and killed.”

“No!”

Not even the wind can persuade Aofil from flying up on their feet in a fit of unyielding rage.

“You’re not blaming my parents for the death of the kids!” Aofil swats away Frisk’s attempt to calm them down. “You’re not fucking doing that, Asriel!”

Asriel again grits his teeth.

“I wasn’t finished...” he apologizes meagerly, almost like a whimper. “But you’re right, Aofil.” His hands flip over, clutching hard against his thighs. “It’s just that...”

“He didn’t mean it that way,” interjects Frisk in another attempt. “You said yourself that...”

“What?” Aofil snaps their eyes viciously over to the human next to them. “What did I say?” they ask with a hateful growl that’s more gravely than the path leading throughout the graveyard.

Frisk only now realizes that they shouldn’t have said anything. “...That you didn’t know about your parents before Chara fell.”

That’s…

That’s not true!

It’s…

Aofil’s eyes shift over to the tree standing sturdy and tall next to them. They run their eyes up and down it.

It wasn’t out of maliciousness that their parents couldn’t love them and Chara! It was because of their curse-

Their curse…

It was because Chara and Aofil...their souls…

But...when Aofil was dying, their parents explained that it was…

Aofil is forced to take support against the trunk with their hand as their head starts spinning. Their knees buckle, and they lurch forward.

Their parents were good people. They weren’t evil against Chara! Or Aofil! They were good people in over their heads! It was tragic, not malicious!

But all Aofil has to prove that is what they just said was just in their head…

But…

Aofil’s hand balls into a fist again, but this one is put to use. They throw it against the aspen. The pain is quick and sharp up their shoulder, yet they throw it again.

And again.

And again.

Their fur will heal their hand.

So they throw it again.

“Who were you?” Aofil whispers to the tree as their knuckles slide down and they fall onto the tree poking between their neck and shoulder. They wrap their neck tightly around it. “Who were you against me and Chara?”

No answer.

Right…

Another corpse dug up.

“I was never a brother to Chara,” comes a pained lament from behind Aofil.

Brother?

Aofil turns their head around.

Their brother, and their sister!

Their parents would’ve never been able to adopt them if they weren’t good people, right?

The good people that Aofil remembers. The good people that they could never imagine driving away a child, let alone two.

Was it because Chara died that they changed? Was it because they lost a child that they realized?

Was the Pastor right in that Aofil’s lived with two different families? One with Chara, and one without?

No wonder Chara felt betrayed while Aofil was dying.

But! That! Was! Just! In! Their! Head!

Right?

Aofil meets Asriel’s eyes.

He lowers his head respectfully back down to the gravestones.

“Were you happy that Chara disappeared?” he asks again.

Aofil turns back to the aspen. “Were you?” they ask it.

“As Flowey, I shared Chara’s mindset,” Asriel continues despite Aofil still facing the aspen. “How could I not? They were the only one I still held dear even after countless resets. They were the one keeping me on a goal. To become the god they wanted me to be. To take revenge upon the humans. The first victims, Chara made me promise, was to be their parents. To show what Chara could’ve been if it weren’t for them.”

“What about your twin?” Asriel asks in a voice that is his own, but higher. As if he’s a small child again. “What do you want to do to them?”

No answer.

“They weren’t sure?” Aofil asks after managing to regain control over their trembling mouth. “About me?”

“When the time was right, Chara would tell me, but that time never came. The reason I could take control of our fused form was because they saw your still body, so I guess they’d made up their mind by then.”

“Yeah...” Aofil again slides down with their back against the aspen. They cross their arms over their knees. “Guess so.”

“During my stay up here on the Surface, I’ve had time to think about it. Properly think too, as it were. I distinctly remember feeling something genuine, something I rejected with all my will when I absorbed the human souls.” Asriel’s eyes move over to Frisk. “When Frisk...defeated me.”

“It wasn’t you!” Frisk says in a bare naked sob. “Az, we’ve talked about this. We’ve talked so much about this.”

“I know, Frisk. I don’t believe it, I promise, but when I think about Chara, and Flowey, it all eventually comes to me feeling that they were my actions. I know they’re not, but it’s what I feel. I’m not ever going to believe them to be mine though.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Frisk.”

They nod. “Alright.” Their stoicism is drained beyond the bottom though, and they clutch their fists at their sides so that they can still stand up straight. “I believe you.”

Asriel nods back. “Thanks.” He takes a calming breath. “As I was saying, when I lost, I felt doubt. Not doubt in general, but doubt in myself. Doubt in Chara. They were the only one keeping me going through the hellish existence I was put through, and I began to doubt them.”

His words are like poison from and on his tongue. With each sentence he winces, each syllable running through him like a knife’s wound., twisting with each gritted word he speaks. It pains him to say this, but he seems relieved at the same time. If Aofil were to be egotistic, they would say that it’s their soul’s doing. They’ve spent enough time with him to know that it’s far more than sharing a soul and a sibling that connects the two of them.

“But then, the pain started to seep into my memories. All of the fear, loneliness, anger, it started to seep through the mental barrier I had put up for Chara. The stains on the paragon that guided Flowey, those that he was so blind to since he couldn’t see them the way he was, those stains I began to realize when thinking back on it.”

“You’re my best friend, Chara,” Asriel again says with the voice he would’ve had back then. “You’ll always be.”

His mouth curls painfully.

“But even now I still feel that I’ve betrayed them by thinking that way. That I broke my promise to my best friend in the entire world.” Asriel looks up to Aofil again, his eyes now glimmering, overflowing with tears. “That’s why I have to ask your parents, Aofil. Because if they can get over Chara, then maybe I can too.”

The wind sways back and forth, taking with it Asriel’s ears, and the fringes of the humans, with it as it moves gently from side to side.

“For as much I want to say that you shouldn’t look to the dead for answers, I would be saying that as one that came back, to another that came back, from being dead.” Aofil sighs, they don’t have the foggiest what to say. “So just, ask again. See if they answer you.”

“They’ve answered you before, right Aofil?”

Aofil looks up the crown of the tree.

“I’ve answered myself.”

Asriel’s head sinks into his shoulders as he heaves a weary sigh. His palms move back to his thighs, and he relaxes his jaw for the first time in what seems like ages. “Were you happy that Chara disappeared?”

The wind calms down, almost to a standstill. The faintest breeze is still felt on the fur of both Asriel and Aofil.

The faintest whisper of an answer.

It doesn’t say anything though. Doesn’t give relief, doesn’t give anger. Not a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no’. It’s something though, and it takes just a something for the mind to make up itself.

Something for it to interpret.

Something for it to point at and say, “That’s not me.”

So...

“What did they say?” Aofil asks with their eyes closed.

“That if they can, then so can I.”

Aofil nods, “Funny,” and opens their eyes to meet Asriel smiling as he sits on his knees, “I didn’t hear anything.”

Asriel nods as well. “I know.”

“Me too.”

Only for him to hear.

The two stand up in unison. Aofil motions for the gate over yonder to Frisk, and takes lead with the two siblings behind them.

“There was also something about bringing flowers next time,” Asriel says as he catches up to Aofil.

They chuckle.

“That I also know of.”

The iron gate squeaks as it’s opened.


	138. Confidence isn't the key

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“Asriel, just-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“It’s not-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

“Could you please-”

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

A very bewildered Pastor leans out from behind the church doors. He’s hesitant at first, but finally decides to investigate.

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK_

Alright, that’s well enough. If he does it one more ti-

_HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN-_

Aofil grabs a hold of Asriel’s shoulders and heaves him upright in his driver seat. They lean his head back on the head rest, with his horns peeking over the top of it like two handles just waiting to be dragged down. Frisk seems to have the strength not to play into that curiosity though, which is probably for the best.

“Why? Why do I keep doing this?”

Aofil pushes back on Asriel’s forehead as his head starts tipping forwards. From this height the airbag might deploy when he slams his head down again on the steering wheel.

“It was an accident, Asriel,” Aofil says in an attempt to have him stay upright by his own volition. They feel his head put more weight on their hand, so they push it back harder into the headrest.

“ **Uuurgh!** ”

A couple of gentle knocks are tapped on the passenger window behind Aofil’s turned shoulder.

It’s the Pastor.

“Is anything astray?” he asks after Aofil carefully shifts their free hand awkwardly behind them to lower the window. “There was a fair bit of honking. How is the Prince?”

“ **Uuurgh!** ” the Prince repeats.

“He’s fine,” Aofil answers. “Just a bit of tiredness that’s taken a hold of him.”

The Pastor’s eyes saunters quietly over from Aofil’s eyes to Asriel mouth gaping wide in a low but loud groan.

Aofil steals back the Pastor’s eyes by leaning in just below breakneck speed. They’d rather it stay as it is, unbroken. “A lot to take in today,” Aofil tries again, still with one hand on Asriel’s forehead, and with the other motioning unconvincingly towards the pastor. Their shoulders are protesting loudly, but if they drop one side the other will fly off the handle.

Or down into the steering wheel, more like.

“I see.” The Pastor retreats his head from the car and back out into the open air. He bows it carefully. “Then I should leave you to it. Give my regards to the Queen and King, if I may.”

“We will,” Aofil smiles back through teeth clenched against their protesting shoulders. “We’ll put in a word about Dogoressa too.”

“That would be much appreciated.”

From the way the Pastor just lit up by that it would be more appreciated than he could ever vocalize. He turns on his heel and makes his way back to his church. Judging by the light steps he takes he must be daydreaming about meeting Dogoressa again.

Aofil closes the window again.

How peaceful the Pastor looks as he walks. You can barely tell the movement of his legs through his frock. It’s like he’s floating.

“And mom is gonna kill me!”

In stark contrast to the Prince next to Aofil.

“Toriel’s not gonna do anything, Asriel,” Aofil interrupts while turning their strained shoulder back to Asriel. “She didn’t do anything before, and she won’t do anything this time.”

“Before?” comes an inquisitive voice from the backseat. Frisk leans in between the driver and passenger seat in such a way that Aofil has to turn their arm in an even more awkward angle.

Wait a second…

“Before?” Aofil repeats. Asriel didn’t tell Frisk about before? Don’t they share everything with each other?

Well, no, Aofil knows that, but something as minor as Asriel breaking the car key in the ignition isn’t deserving of secrecy?

“You told me you arrived late because of the snails,” Frisk accuses with their eyes hard on Asriel. “That the car broke down because of an ignition problem, and that then you decided to get some snails because of it?”

“Technically Asriel wasn’t lying,” Aofil answers in the groaning Prince’s stead. To that Frisk leans back with their brow furrowed and their mouth puckered in thought.

Asriel holds up the upper half of Toriel’s car key above his muzzle. He sighs through his lips before throwing the key atop the dashboard. As his bemoaned hand hangs in the air, something shifts in his expression. Like the impact of the key sent ripples that shook his world. He stares at his hand while turning it, balling it into a fist, and releasing it.

An even stranger occurrence shows its face, on Asriel’s face.

A smile.

“You can take off your hand now, Aofil.”

Can they?

“Yes, you can,” Asriel answers Aofil’s extended eyebrow with a hard stare.

They hold it.

And so does he.

They hold it.

And so does he.

They hold it.

And so-

“Just remove your hand, Aof!” Frisk finally says after a long and tortured sigh.

Aofil lifts their hand slowly, hovering it for a couple of seconds before retreating it fully.

Asriel leans forward and-

“Oow!”

The smack against Asriel’s forehead is very much audible.

“You almost his my eyes, Aof!” he snarls back while pushing Aofil’s arm away from him.

“You leaned forward!” Aofil defends.

“To get the keys!” Asriel counters back while jiggling the key chain around his claw. “Jeez.”

The three inhabitants of the car draw a collective sigh.

“Let’s get out of this,” offers Aofil. “Air is getting thin.”

The continuous seat belt warning ding has Asriel shaking his head tiredly. It’s audible even when the three close their respective doors. A testament to Asriel’s failure, ever reminding.

Until the battery runs out, that is.

He doesn’t seem awfully fazed by it though.

Aofil is beginning to wonder. Just something in the air between them and Asriel just doesn’t add up. They look over their shoulder at Frisk, and the same thing is with them as well. It’s been that way ever since they left the graveyard. Like miasma it’s been looming over the three, influencing them in ways no mortal could ever describe. Should Aofil grab the bull, or in this case, the goat, by the horns? Force an answer out of him? Maybe the fallen child too? Drastic measures is something Aofil would like to avoid, but they’re willing to do that if it means saving their own life.

Aofil is beginning to wonder...

“What time is it?” they wonder out loud while fishing out their phone from their pocket. Their eyes widen in surprise for a second before adjusting to the late hour displayed on their phone. “Hm.” They pocket their phone again. “Just about dinner in an hour.”

How long were they sleeping under the aspen? No wonder the air felt colder between them, Frisk, and Asriel. It’s way later than they thought it would be. They must’ve dozed off for a good while.

Hopefully not long enough for them to not be able to sleep for the night when they get home.

And speaking of getting home.

“Toriel or the towing firm, Asriel?”

“I only have to call one?”

“No, which one are you gonna call first?”

He sighs, “Mom, I guess,” and his hand quickly finds his phone in his front pants pocket. Almost like it’s first nature for him. Doesn’t really come as a surprise to Aofil. Their eye is sharp as a razor when it comes to detecting teenagers shifting their weight to reach for their phones.

And they take pride in that!

In class the focus should be on the class, and not sending pictures with, what can only be described as, or to be more truthful, what the teenagers only can describe as, ironically abstract art and slogans.

Not even a generation has passed on the Surface for the monsters and the future is already ruined.

Aofil heaves a lamenting sigh while shaking their head.

“Mom?”

Now let’s see how ironic abstraction can help Asriel talk his way out of breaking the car key again.

“Yeah, we’re fine. No, not really. The Pastor made a mistake in his research. It was...” Asriel glances over to Aofil for help.

They motion for him to put his hand over the microphone. “Mistaken human handwriting,” they offer as an excuse.

To that, Asriel’s hesitant, but he can’t really figure out a better excuse. “Some kind of mistaken human handwriting,” he relays. “I don’t know, ask Aofil when we get back.”

Aofil’s brow sink down.

Really?

Actually, that might be for the best, now that Aofil thinks about it. It gives them more time to, not really bend the truth, but present it in a more favorably way.

Oh boy…

If Aofil’s painting that kinda picture in their mind they’re gonna have to come up with the greatest lie ever made.

“Frisk?”

Asriel looks down to Frisk who slams their mouth shut with their hands.

This is gonna be entertaining.

“No, I haven’t seen Frisk. I think they’re at...”

Asriel motions wildly with his hand for Frisk to come up with an excuse. Frisk does so in return, and the exchange is forcing Aofil to put their hand over their own mouth to contain their chuckle.

“Moldessa,” Frisk finally mouths.

“Not home yet,” Asriel relays.

A second hand is needed to cover Aofil’s ever growing grin. Hopefully it’s enough. They don’t have any more hands to use themselves after this.

With a halfway angry tug at Asriel’s ear, Frisk forces their brother to lean down to them. “Moldessa,” they whisper harshly in the ear opposite his phone. Luckily, the harsh tone doesn’t go through Asriel’s skull and into the phone. Although, it’s their mother on in, so it’s a distinct possibility that she heard it regardless. Add to that that it is Toriel as well and you could probably just think of the word and she would hear it.

The phone stays inside Asriel’s ear though and not a very startled arm’s length away from it, so Aofil’s gonna assume that Toriel didn’t hear her children lie to her.

“They’re at Moldessa’s house,” Asriel continues while massaging Frisk’s tug away from the tip of his ear. “Yeah, it’s-”

His entire body freezes, as if a spell’s been cast on him. His fearful eyes contract until barely visible, and his jaw stars quivering. Spell cast must’ve been a curse. If it was a curse curse or a swear curse is hard to tell. Aofil’s never heard Toriel swear with their own ears, but others have sworn that she’s sworn before.

Is that another wave of jealousy running up Aofil’s spine again?

“S-s-semester ev-valuation? W-with M-Moldessa?”

Nope! It was a chill.

“Uh oh,” Frisk mouths quietly.

Aofil’s conflicted whether or not to motion for Asriel to hand over his phone. They could probably formulate up a better lie...no...excuse, than him, but they way he’s clutching it right now they would need a couple of crowbars to be able to bend it out of his hand.

“That would explain why Frisk called me earlier.”

What? Where did that come from? Aofil looks at Asriel leaning on Toriel’s roof on his flat arm with a raised pair of confused eyebrows. His voice… It’s like all the anxiousness just up and vanished from him. He’s leaning against the car like he’s just sold it for thrice market value over the phone.

What the hell?

“Nah, you’ll have to call them after your meeting. That’s probably for the best.”

Frisk looks stunned at this development too. If Toriel were to call right now they wouldn’t hear their phone ringing.

“The reason I called though, mom, is that I may or may not have accidentally snapped the key again.” Asriel’s voice is calm and collected while relaying something he almost broke down while doing last time. He even chuckles as he finishes! Genuine chuckle! Not a worried one! “Well, dad’s car has you turning it towards you, and with yours you turn away, and I was talking to Aofil about our visit in the meantime, and my mind slipped.”

He shrugs as nonchalant as Mettaton would if you pointed out something malicious in one of his contracts. This is all kinds of strange, both very and somewhat, and the entire spectrum in between.

“Yeah, mom. I’m sorry.” Asriel’ eyes move over to Aofil. “Still not used to my strength and all.” He averts his eyes quickly afterwards. “Might have to ask Undyne to calm down a bit, ey?” He chuckles. “Nah, don’t ask her, mom. I was just kidding.”

If Aofil wouldn’t have been as aware as they are about Asriel’s past, they would probably say that he’s finally starting to bloom.

But that kind of flowery talk would have him bulb up like a tulip in winter.

“So, yeah, we might not make it home to dinner. Maybe you and dad can saunter your way over to Mettaton’s? It’s been a while since you two took some time for yourselves.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

Frisk and Aofil’s eyes shoot towards the phone as if it’s the gravitational center of the Universe. Both them could hear Toriel’s voice loud and clear, and both believe to have reacted mildly to the smooth and intrigued reaction coming out of Asriel’s phone. Not even the shoddy audio that telephone signals are broadcast through is enough to damper the almost lustfully inquisitive tone from Toriel.

Aofil can only imagine Moldessa and her parents’ reaction sitting next to Toriel during this conversation she’s having with Asriel.

Jealousy sweeps over them like a monsoon. What they wouldn’t give to hear, and see, Toriel with her hair let down so that it would reach the basement of the Underground in person.

“Frisk?” Asriel asks again while looking down at their sibling. “Call them and ask. Or should I do it? In any case, I think they’d approve of you and dad enjoying yourself for a while. I mean, who wouldn’t?”

Aofil’s not sure what Asriel means by that, exactly, but they should probably not ask in case their suspicions are true. That’s...a bit out of their range.

And that is saying quite a lot.

“Yes, I have keys home, and yes, Frisk has theirs too, before you ask. We’ve had them for years now, mom, why would we not have them now?”

Maybe so that Asriel and Frisk would have to knock before entering when coming home? Asgore and Toriel would’ve been warned in case they were-

No!

NO!

OUT!

OUT OF AOFIL’S HEAD!

STOP!

OTHER THOUGHTS COME CLAIM AOFIL’S MIND AND FREE THEM!

STOP!

Asriel looks a bit perplexed over Aofil shaking their head so violently while their hands push against both sides of their lobe. “Yeah...” he answers after a short while into his phone. “I’ll give Frisk a call and tell them the situation.” His brow furrows. “What? Aofil?” His mouth tightens for a split second before opening wide in relief. “Oh yeah! Yes, I’ll see if I can find it at home. If not, I’ll send them over to Undyne or Papyrus, whoever has it currently. Yes, yes. Of course I’ll be fine. No, you don’t have-” Asriel’s forced to concede with a deep sigh. “Shouldn’t you save that for your own dinner?” His sigh deepens even further. “Alright, but then I’ll see if I can get some snails as well.” His eyes roll like they’re on the highest speed in a centrifuge. “Because I’ve been telling you that I want to try and be independent with my money, that’s why, mom.” His eyes land gently downwards at the ground, and he blinks slowly. “Love you too, mom. See you later.”

Asriel hangs up his phone, spins it irresponsibly in his hand, and pockets it again. He shrugs at the two humans staring at him dumbfounded.

“What?”

“What?” Aofil repeats while throwing out their arms, almost knocking Frisk over. “What do you mean by what?”

Asriel shrugs again.

Aofil looks over to Frisk for support. “I’m not imagining things here, right?”

Beside Asgore and Toriel together in-

**NO!**

Frisk answers with a nod. “Did he have the same confidence last time?” they ask back to Aofil.

“I’m right here,” Asriel informs to deaf human ears.

“I had to take the phone from him,” Aofil explains while extending their thumb and pinky finger next to their head. “He was very nervous.”

“Still right here,” Asriel informs to even deafer human ears.

“That usually the case when he screws up and has to call mom or dad,” Frisk adds while putting the flat of their palm up to their cheek and ear.

Aofil shakes their head.

Ruined generation.

“Alright!” Asriel finally gets through to the humans, who bend their heads with their imaginary phones up to their ears. They both hang them up. “Why is me being able to handle a conversation such a deviance for me? I’ve done that before.”

Aofil and Frisk glance at each other before moving their eyes back to Asriel.

To that, he rolls his eyes again. “Come on now… Are you two being serious right now?”

“Call the towing company,” Aofil asks after a couple of silent beats.

If he’s gotten better when talking to Toriel, that’s a fluke. If he’s also gotten better at talking to the towing company, then that’s gonna be convincing proof.

“Tell them that you’re Prince Asriel too,” Aofil adds.

“Or I could just ask for them to come over here without the need for me to play the royal card,” Asriel retorts as he dials the number on his phone. He puts his finger up to his lips to shush Aofil before they can say anything else.

“Hello,” Asriel greets as his phone connects, “I’m having troubles with my car at the church and need it towed to Monster City. I have with me two friends that I need to bring with me as well. When’s the earliest you can send a truck?”

Asriel leans back on the car with his free arm tucked across his chest. He nods a few times as he listens to the operator on the other line. Aofil almost has to butt in and remind Asriel that he’s on the phone and that the person on the other side can’t see him nod, but just before the thought strike them, Asriel smacks his lips. “Yes, I understand. Could you call me back on this number if something shows up?”

Asriel’s cheeks drag into a wide smile. “Great, looking forward to hearing back from you.”

He hangs up.

“Yes?” Frisk pries.

“There aren’t any tows available at this hour. There’s some kind of event.”

“Event?”

“Yes, and the company’s fully booked right now. Guess we’ll have to wait.”

“If you would’ve said your name we’d have one in less than an instant.” Aofil slaps the roof of Toriel’s car. “Been home in an hour or so.”

Asriel shrugs his shoulder to Aofil’s motion. “I could’ve, but that would be flaunting my title, I feel. Don’t want to do that just yet. I’m not better than the others, I’ll wait for the tow if I have to.”

Aofil doesn’t believe it. It could be that Asriel’s making sure that he and Frisk don’t arrive while Asgore and Toriel are-

_**STOP!** _

Well, they believe that Asriel’s honest about being modest, but he’s not honest about it being the case. The air is thick with the reason that stinks the most like the truth. Not literally, of course.

If it were Aofil would be feeling their stomach turn.

“You want the snails again,” Aofil accuses while crossing their arms as one of their eyebrows fly up their forehead.

“Great!” Asriel answers while motioning for the sidewalk. “Then let us head over and get some.”

Where did this sudden confidence come from? Granted, Aofil’s not against it, nor would anyone be, but it just popping out like this is cause for suspicion.

“I’ll tell you over the snails,” Asriel says to Aofil after seeing their eyebrow lower in deep thought. “I have to test something before I’m certain.”

Aofil looks to Frisk for their opinion, but Frisk just shrugs.

Alright then.

“Let’s swing by my place first,” Aofil proposes.

“Your old place, I’m guessing?” Frisk asks as they catch up to Asriel.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Asriel pries curiously while standing at the exit from the church grounds with his arms crossed.

“I wanna see how big a hole my house left behind.”


	139. Shedding nostalgia

“Huh...”

“Yup.”

“That’s a hole.”

“Sure is.”

“No one’s bought the property yet?”

“Would cost a lot to remake the foundation.”

“Couple of knee marks dotted around the front lawn as well from when the house got up.”

“That’ll buff out with a couple of bags of soil.”

“It’s deeper than I thought.”

“I always thought the stairs down to the basement were long, but still, it’s a surprise to me too. You would need a ladder and a half to reach the bottom here.”

Aofil crosses their arms. It’s a very...interesting...view, seeing their old place be nothing but grass and a square hole in the ground, with bent pipes and frayed wires sticking out from way below. It’s a right mess, that’s for certain.

They swivel their head up and down the street. Seems pretty empty at this time of day, so nothing’s really changed in that remark. No one will notice if they enter, right?

“Who owns the property, by the way?” they ask Asriel and Frisk. “Who did I actually sell it too? When I...left, I handed it all to the real estate agent. Took a sizable cut out of the final price, but at least I didn’t have to think about it at the time. So I didn’t really catch the name of who it was that signed the contract.”

“According to the official papers, a human,” Frisk answers. “But it was really mom and dad that bought it. Alphys offered to make some robots to keep the place clean for if you returned.”

Guess that explains why it’s so integrated in Aofil’s house.

“Nothing to do with it being where Chara lived before they fell?” Aofil pries as they enter through the gate. They have to lean most of their weight on the iron handle before it realizes that Aofil wants it to open up. A metallic yawn emerges from the hinges as they swing it open.

“We didn’t really want to ask at the time,” Asriel explains while stepping through the gate that Aofil’s holds for him and Frisk. “And afterwards, well, we just didn’t think what good could come out of us asking.”

“I understand that.” Aofil closes the gate behind Frisk. “You had to make terms with being alive again and all that.”

“Still working on that,” Frisk adds.

Aofil gets it confirmed by Asriel’s nod. 

The trio walk to the hole.

“If we were one more we could surround it,” Asriel points out with a chuckle. He stretches out his hand over the gap. “Nope, no Barrier,” he relays as he swipes his forehead.

Aofil makes their way to the other side of the hole with their head cocked at Asriel. “And here I thought I was the one with lighter shoulders after talking to my parents.” They catch themselves lifting their foot up where their patio used to be, and they almost trip themselves as they misjudge the distance back down to the ground. 

Frisk agrees with Aofil’s statement. They tap Asriel on his shoulder as he passes them by to also round the square. “Don’t get me wrong, Az, I’m glad to hear you be this loose around Aofil and the likes.”

Aofil and the likes? Mostly it’s the likes that caught Aofil’s ears, but...

They lift their head from inspecting the large outlet pipe with a curtain of vegetation over it. What does Frisk mean by the likes, exactly? There are more twins to Chara? Oh… That means… Oh god no…

Aofil has missed so many birthdays…

“You even made a joke about the Barrier, Az,” Frisk continues while throwing their open hand up towards the looming presence of Mt. Ebott. “Didn’t think you’d ever do it. Especially not within viewing distance of where it was!”

Aofil tilts their head up towards the mountain. Despite them running their eyes up where their old path went, they still can’t classify the entrance to the Underground as visible. The outlook, or whatever it’s officially called, is at such a weird angle that you can’t really see it this close to Ebott. 

Asriel shrugs his shoulders. “Fused with Aofil in their basement, so-”

Hey now!

“Exactly!” Frisk interrupts. “If anything you’d be refusing to even set foot close here! What happened with you back there at the graveyard?”

Aofil would also like to sate their curiosity on that subject. They have some suspicions, but for as much as he seems happy on the outside, bringing it up might vacuum that smile right off his face.

God knows Aofil’s has experience with that.

They glance down at the fur on their arm.

Years worth.

“Sweet!”

Asriel rushes past Aofil in such a way that they’re forced to glance right back up again. What has him in such a sprint all of a sudden?

Asriel hurries himself down to the corner of Aofil’s former yard. They follow him with their eyes, and can’t help but light up as well at the sight.

They had forgotten all about that!

The apple tree is in full bloom, causing a wave of warm nostalgia to wash over Aofil. Heck, some of its fruits actually look edible. Especially the one Asriel’s climbing up to get. Might even been as sweet as he exclaimed just now. Very neat. What a very much needed pleasant surprise.

Asriel’s excitement shakes the tree quite violently, and plenty of apples rain down from it, landing on the grass with muffled thuds. They quickly number very many. Would be a shame to just let them sit and rot away.

Maybe Aofil should collect and bring them back to Papyrus. Maybe he’s improved his apple sauce since last time. Can’t hurt to try. They’ll gauge Sans’ reaction to Papyrus’ offer for Aofil to stay for pasta dinner. If his eyes disappears, they’ll thank Papyrus for the offer, but decline. If he makes excuses for Aofil to leave, they’ll gladly accept the offer. 

Perfect! They got a plan.

Now, there should be a basket in the shed somewhere. There was some when Aofil left all those years ago…they think… Eh, they should be able to figure something out with the stuff present inside.

“You want an apple as well?” Asriel’s head asks Frisk as it pokes out of the tree crown. “Aofil?”

“I could go for one,” Aofil answers as they near the shed. Wait… Is that a lock hanging on the handle? Looks heavy duty.

“Right!” Asriel’s head disappears back into the tree. A couple of branches land on the ground shortly after, cracking in the middle as they do.

Frisk stands with their arms extended in baffled confusion. “Az!” they shout in half a cough.

“What?” Asriel asks from within the tree. 

“Just...” Frisk’s shoulders heave heavily as they peter out the word through a tired raspberry. “Whatever. I’ll cross that bridge once you decide to tell us what’s going on with you.” They walk over to the tree and hold their hand out. A few moments later an apple lands in it. “Whenever you decide to tell.”

Leaves and more apples drum at the ground as Asriel descends the tree.

“Don’t land on any apples,” Aofil shouts from their hunched over position at the shed. Yes, it sure is a lock. Question is if there’s anything nearby to pick it open with.

The entire trunk of the tree swivels as Asriel pushes away from it with his feet. He clears the ring of apples strewn about under the tree, and lands with a roll next to Frisk. They offer him their free hand to help him up. 

“Apple?” Asriel offers through a mouthful of apple to Aofil scouring the outside walls of the weathered shed with a stick in their search of some tools. “Gotta warn you though, they ain’t as sweet as I thought they would be.”

“They’ve never been,” Aofil informs as they rub their handed apple across the fur on their arm. From behind them they hear eyebrows raise, but they pay it no mind. They could’ve sworn that there was some… Aha! A screwdriver!

Flat one to boot! Small one for the other boot!

Perfect.

“Han mge tjat rjuck.”

Asriel’s brow sinks like an anchor tossed into an empty ocean. “What?”

Aofil removes their apple from their mouth. “Hand me that rock.”

“Oh.” Asriel squats down and bends loose the one between his feet. “This?”

“Yes.”

Now...um...how should Aofil hold their three items in just two of their hands. They need both free for them to work the lock.

Eh. Screw it.

“I’m gonchla pig the log,” they explain through the small opening at the side of their mouth from where they first took a bite out of their apple. “Well, morg lig smathin it opfen, but itch lig pigging it.”

Frisk and Asriel nod, but they clearly don’t understand.

Aofil drags a slobful breath through the side of their mouth. “Jus gonna but de schrewdrive in and-Shit!”

The half eaten apple falls down on the ground with a soft bounce on the bitten side as Aofil recoils from the shock sent through their arm from the lock.

“Tampering detected,” it speaks with an ominous voice.

Aofil shakes the pain out of their arm. “Oh...”

“Maybe tell it who you are?” Asriel proposes with a slight shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“That it denies and calls the cops?” Aofil retorts over their shoulder.

“You want me to kick the door in?” Asriel proposes again.

Yes.

“No,” Aofil’s forced to say despite their entire being screaming differently. “Let’s try asking it first. Don’t think the shed will stand up if you go about kicking it.”

Before Aofil can say their name to the lock though, they catch themselves.

Not about talking to a lock.

Not about it being unusual.

They catch themselves not catching themselves about this situation.

Guess it’s completely normal to them now.

Aofil’s not sure how they feel about that.

Besides nothing out of the ordinary, that is.

“I’m Aofil, I lived here before,” Aofil explains, totally normally and without any feelings of it being out of place for them to do so, to the lock. “Could you-”

“In season one, episode fifteen of Mew Mew, what is the name of the animal accompanying Mew Mew during her travels?” the lock asks in a tone that’s way too stern for this situation.

Aofil cocks their head around to the kids behind them. They both shake their heads. 

“You’re lying,” Aofil says with their brow lowered.

“Reminded me too much about the Underground,” Asriel explains. “Haven’t gotten around to watching it yet.”

“I want to watch it with Asriel,” Frisk adds as Aofil’s peering eyes move over to them.

Is that so?

Aofil swivels their head back to the lock. Is this worth seeing Papyrus lighting up like a nuclear explosion when he sees Aofil bringing him a basket full of home...previously home grown apples?

Yes, it is.

Dammit.

“Could you cover your ears for me for a moment?” Aofil asks from Asriel and Frisk while demonstrating by putting the flat of their palms up to their own ears.

Asriel mouth moves, but Aofil doesn’t hear him say anything.

Oh…

Right.

Aofil removes their hands from their ears.

“Why?” he repeats.

“Override password Alphys gave to me for my house. Might work here too.”

That’s a complete lie, but if Aofil can spare some embarrassment over having to admit to having watched Mew Mew, then that’s worth a small white lie.

Seems to have convinced them. Frisk saunters their hands up their cheeks, while Asriel nestles his hands under his ears. Looks quite comfortable.

“Lalalalalalalalalalalalalala.”

“Asrie-”

“Lalalalalalalalala.”

Right, he can’t hear…

Aofil waves frantically in front of Asriel’s face. With a perplexed look he lifts up his floppy ears.

“Yes?” he asks while holding his ears up like a pair of droopy wings.

“It’s voice activated,” Aofil reminds while pointing to the lock.

Asriel’s brow sinks for a split second before shooting up. “Oh!” He nods. “Gotcha, sorry. We’ll back up instead.”

His ears sure move like wings as he walks with them lifted up like that.

“Here’s good?” Asriel asks with half a yell close to the apple tree.

Aofil extends their thumb. “Should be fine.”

Asriel’s ears flop down again.

Aofil leans close to the lock. Their entire body is burning up in embarrassment, but it’s something they have to live with now.

“Mikkarama,” they answer the lock. “The animal accompanying Mew Mew during episode fifteen of season one was a Mikkarama.”

The lock whirs for a second before a loud mechanical noise has the hoop opening up.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERD!” the lock shouts with Undyne’s voice.

Aofil’s head lowers in defeat and full shame.

God dammit.

“Find anything?” Asriel asks as he returns alongside Frisk to the worn and weathered shed. He leans himself on the wall on his elbow, but immediately removes it as he feels the entire building shift just from him leaning up against it.

“What did you do?” Aofil asks over their shoulder in startled panic.

“I didn’t know it would budge just by me putting my arm up to it,” Asriel defends while keeping his hands at the ready should the shed move again.

Aofil should probably find a basket at their earliest convenience.

That being right now.

The one next to them that looks like it’s over a century old will have to suffice. 

“It’s not gonna just crumble in on itself,” Frisk informs to a hurrying Aofil as they almost throw themselves out the door with the frayed basket clutched between their widened hands.

“You go inside and have Asriel push the shed and then tell me the same afterwards,” Aofil shoots back with irritation summoned through fear. They shake it off as their hear their own voice. “Could you re mount the lock, please?”

Asriel, very, carefully closes the shed door. It stays upright. He drags a relieved sigh.

And the shed starts tipping.

“You serious?” Aofil asks from a safe distance. Id est, far enough not to be able to hurry over in time.

Asriel desperately tugs at the knots of the shed, pulling with might yet with care to have it steady itself again. It looks to be a bit fruitless, and the shed angles itself more and more despite his best efforts.

Frisk takes a step back as they see the planks starting to uproot themselves from the ground. “Asriel...” 

“I can hold this.”

“It’s starting to pivot around where you’re grabbing it!” Aofil shouts as the rotation starts to build up some speed. “Let go of it!”

Asriel tilts their head around.

“Now!” Aofil commands before he has time to repeat that he can hold it. He can’t, not any longer.

Asriel lets go of the shed. He jumps back, and the roof comes slamming down where he stood just a second after. The entire shed bounces hard, sending out loud creaks as the planks bend in on themselves and the tin roof.

“Huff and puff until it all blows down,” Aofil says through their grin in a whisper. The legends do come true.

“What was that one story about blowing down houses?” Asriel asks over his shoulder.

“No idea,” Aofil lies. “Now come help me pick up these apples.”

“Should I still re mount the lock?”

Aofil perplexed head swivels around with brow lowered to the point where their eyes resemble Frisk’s. 

Is he serious? Is he just trying to skip out on picking the apples?

“Sure.” Aofil says over their shrugging shoulders. “Put it back if you want to.”

Two steps later Aofil hears Asriel call out for them. “The lock is asking for a new security question, Aofil. I think we should use the same one Alphys put in.”

Why?

Aofil’s now turned their entire body around. “Why?”

“So that-” Asriel’s upraised finger lowers as the obvious reason that his question is moot to the point of aloof hits him like a runaway train.

“So that Alphys or anybody else would realize that we were here?” Aofil finishes, mostly because they can’t stop laughing about it.

Asriel’s ears flop down like two big capsules of snot on both sides of his cheeks. He gets no sympathy from Frisk, who just shakes their head. “...Yes,” he admits while standing in front of the collapsed shed with its planks sticking out like beacons of meddling, and the roof being folded into itself as if made out of wet paper.

“Let’s just get these apples,” Aofil offers while bouncing the basket in their hands. As they turn back around to face the tree though, their face finally convulses into a baffled grin.

At least his heart was at the right place.

Aofil manages a couple of handfuls of apples before Asriel and Frisk arrives while rolling up their sleeves over their elbows.

“You thinking of carrying this back to the car first?” Asriel asks after his third deposit into the basket. He picks up an apple that looks quite bruised and insect eaten which he dangles for Aofil to see.

Aofil motions for him to throw it away, which he does quite an impressive distance. “Yeah,” Aofil answers after concluding that the apple landed too far away for them to hear the thud. “I’ll put it in the trunk of the car and then we can go get some dinner.”

“Same place as before?” Asriel asks with no effort to hide his excitement.

“With the snails?”

Frisk freezes at the word ‘snails’. The apple in their hand is crushed, and their mouth struggles to find words.

“There are other places nearby if you don’t want snails, Frisk,” Aofil reassures.

Their sigh of relief almost blows the rest of the apples on the ground away.

“I thought you liked snails though, Frisk?” Aofil might as well ask now that they can. “You’ve been brought up with them, after all?”

“I...” Frisk bounces an apple in their hand impatiently as their face drags into a myriad of emotions. “I’m impartial to them, let’s go with that. They’re fine as dessert when drizzled with syrup and whipped cream, but that’s my limit.”

Oh boy… That turned Aofil’s stomach something fierce. The snail...juices...mixed with sweet syrup, and whipped-

They barely manage to quell their heave.

Oh god…

This is what they get for asking.

“Does Toriel know?” Aofil asks through their fist pushed up against their mouth.

“She does,” Frisk answers as they deposit their third carry of apples. “She’s my mom, of course she knows.”

Not really considering everything that’s happened, but fair enough. If Aofil can cash out without having to find out that the deck they’re playing with is actually their maybe-maybe-not distant relative Cter’s magical deck passed down so that one of her future offspring can take up the mantle she left behind.

Or something.

Point is, Aofil should leave things where they are if they can.

“What if you really are a relative to Cter, Aofil?”

What? How strong is Aofil and Asriel connection really? Can he read Aofil’s thoughts or something?

“I mean...” Asriel drags a long inhale through his clenched teeth. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? You can’t do any magic yourself, Aofil, so what does it really do to you that you now know that you have a mage ancestor?”

Should she really be called an ancestor? Granted, yes, it’s been a while since she lived, but not ancestor long time ago. Grand relative, perhaps.

“There’s no proof or anything for her to have been my relative,” Aofil retorts while twirling their wrist. “You suddenly forgot everything that happened under the church?”

Asriel throws the flat of his hands up. “Mistake bringing it up again, I guess.”

“No,” Aofil stands up from their squatted position with apples in their armful. “Just wondering why you’d bring it up again this close in time. You think that if I accept that I have a mage ancestor you’ll be able to do better magic?”

Asriel averts his eyes while scratching the side of his furry cheek. “Was worth a try.”

“That I can give you.”

The basket is soon filled, and Aofil struggles a bit to lift it. Asriel offers to help, and Aofil allows him. It doesn’t seem to bother him one bit, which leaves Aofil with a mixed response.

He’s impressively strong.

Or is Aofil impressively weak?

Either way, better that he carries it.

Aofil hurries along before Asriel to open the gate so that Asriel doesn’t have to do a balancing act with the heavy basket in only one hand.

They motion for him to take lead through the gate. “After you.”

He nods as he passes.

But Frisk stops.

They look up at Aofil, but then averts their eyes.

Do they want to say something, or?

Frisk sighs. “Better that I say it now than you finding out later.”

Okay?

They point to Asriel. “We both know you knew the answer to the lock.”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide open.

“So, yeah.”

Frisk jogs up next to their brother, leaving Aofil with the gate in their clutching hand.

Their mouth opens, and a single word spills out of it like a drop of water out of a faucet closed shut at midnight.

“Dammit.”


	140. Are we there yet?

“Right!”

Asriel dusts off his palms against each other as he closes the trunk of Toriel’s car. The door just barely misses the overflowing basket of apples as it closes with a careful slam.

He picks up his phone that started ringing just as he was about to slot in the basket. “Hello?”

Why he didn’t answer with his name is up to Aofil to ponder.

“Two hours?”

There’s a silent beat as Asriel listens for the response.

“Alright. Thank you.”

He hangs up.

“Two hours,” he relays to Frisk and Aofil.

“Until a tow is available?” Aofil adds while pointing to the car.

Asriel nods. “Yes, because we’re three that needs to come along with it. They only have a few couple of trucks that have backseats.”

“And those are all busy at that event?”

Asriel pockets his phone while at the same time throwing up his other hand in the air. “I didn’t ask, okay? If they say that they don’t have one available, then they don’t have one available. We’re gonna get towed to Monster City, so they’re not gonna deny the job because it’s not lucrative enough. Quite the opposite, really. It’s a tow over to another town entirely.”

Aofil’s forced to concede. “Yes, yes, you don’t have to defend them in court about this.” They motion for the sidewalk. “Let’s head for some dinner. I’m starting to feel a bit peckish.”

“Too bad we don’t have Sans to shortcut us,” Frisk says before throwing a look over their shoulder.

“Can he hear you all the way from here?” Aofil asks with a perplexed eyebrow extended. “You can get hold of him faster than speed dial?”

“No,” Frisk swivels their head back again as they conclude that the smiling skeleton is not present nearby at the current moment. “He just seems to show up when you talk about him like this, that’s all. He’s been doing it less and less as the years passed by though. Guess he’s settling in to not having to be on edge and knowing everything as to be able to piece together why he wakes up with memories of events that will, and not, happen.”

“Settling into his sofa, that is,” Aofil adds.

“heh.”

The two humans’ necks turn like owls, straining like towels wringed until the last drop of liquid’s been expelled.

“Heh.”

Wait…

Aofil almost has to turn their head with their hands as they can feel their neck chastising them for spinning it without the consent from the rest of their body.

“Sorry,” Asriel says sheepishly. “Just slipped out of me.”

Frisk shoves their brother’s shoulder with all their might. “I told you to stop doing that, Az!” They massage the back of their neck. “Almost spun my head off.”

“Sorry,” Asriel repeats.

Aofil’s not sure if they’re comfortable with this. “You can still imitate?” They push their fingers into the back of their neck, squeezing it tight as they move their fingers back and forth in an attempt to find which group of muscle fibers hurt them most.

Turns out it’s all of them.

“A bit,” Asriel answers.

“Ha!” comes a loud scoff from Frisk which they swiftly regret as they then bend their head forward. “Ow,” they state.

“Just when I’m around friends though, and always for fun, never for any malicious purpose.”

Sure…

Frisk has already used up their scoff which they regret now. They can only glare hard at Asriel with a deep scowl dragging their face down to their stomach. “And when you imitated me and told MK that I wanted him to come over?”

Oh…

In what way exactly?

“I’d already asked him four times that week! We were so close to finishing that coop campiagn.” Asriel defends while motioning wildly with his hands. “And besides, you wanted him to come over too. I just… said it in your stead, that’s all.”

Frisk’s glare softens, to their disdain. They avert their eyes, mumbling angrily to themselves.

More importantly though to Aofil. “How many can you imitate? Can you still imitate me?”

“The ones Flowey could, I can. Haven’t really dedicated time to improving that skill of mine. Don’t think I can get a lot out of it.” Asriel shrugs his hand upwards. “Well, I know that I can get a lot out of it, yes, but not in a way I want, that is. Undyne once asked me if I could try and shout encouragements in her voice when she was trying to break her personal best in bench pressing. Her logic was that since it works for everyone else, then it should work for her too.”

“Sounds like her logic,” Aofil can confirm.

“She...argued with, and against, her own voice.”

“Sounds like her logic as well.”

“She didn’t break her PB that day,” Asriel informs. “The next day she almost asked me to try with Alphys’ voice, but before she could ask I said no. It would just be awkward.”

Aofil nods along to the imagery popping up in their mind. Of Asriel hunched over a sweating and straining Undyne, yelling encouragements using Alphys’ nasally voice.

Many sleepless nights ahead of Aofil after that mental picture, they hazard.

“Dad and mom know, but they play it for laughs. Mom mostly,” Asriel says with a sigh.

“Toriel?” That’s a surprise. Aofil’s hand nestles underneath their chin. “Pray tell.”

Frisk’s eyes shoot over to Asriel. They seem quite curious about this too.

Asriel’s lips drag back uncomfortably as he places his hand behind his neck, twisting it as he inhales through his clenched teeth. “Jokes,” he admits as his cheeks blush.

“Jokes?” Aofil and Frisk say in baffled unison.

“Her quips and puns. She wants to hear how they sound before she begins weaving it into her repertoire.”

Aofil can’t do anything else but blink. Their mouth form syllables, but no words. “Alright...” they finally manage to produce as the confusion washes away. “Fair enough, I guess.”

Frisk’s expression tells of unfair conditions though.

“Dad just has me answer his phone if he can’t reach it.”

Yes, of course, but back to Toriel. “Does she do that often?” Aofil has to ask. “I just...” Their words fail them again as the myriad of strange reasons flood their mind.

“No, not really,” Asriel answers. “Maybe one is too many, but it’s not like she does it twice a week.”

“Once a week?” Frisk pries.

No answer.

“Oh no...” Frisk hands find their face, buried deep into their palms. “Mom, why?”

At least it’s not the same imitation Flowey did with Toriel when Aofil confronted him for the first time. And speaking of that, did Flowey imitate Aofil? They can’t quite remember him doing that. Too busy trying to kill Aofil and all that. Toriel though, Sans, Asgore, Alphys, Undyne, etc.

“You picked up on Frisk’s voice later though?” Aofil guesses with a slight twirl of their wrist and a subtle lean in with their head. “Because from what I gathered Flowey didn’t imitate Frisk out of respect. Respect that seems to have been lost, funnily enough.”

Frisk would nod if they could.

“Exactly,” Asriel answers. “Flowey could, but he wouldn’t.”

“And despite having a part of, what used to be, my soul, you can’t do my voice through some magical reason?”

Asriel’s brow furrows as he tries to process the question.

“As in, since you’re made out of the soul inside you, and since the soul inside you was, emphasize was, mine, then wouldn’t you be able to use my voice too?”

The brow hit the pavement with an imaginary audible thud.

“I’m trying to understand myself about all of this soul business.” Aofil lifts their fur covered arm and runs their fingers through the snow white hairs. “Since this happened with me.”

“I haven’t tried,” Asriel admits with a shrug. “You want me to try?”

Oh that’s a good question, actually. Aofil remembers having their adrenaline levels spiked when Radentim did his and or her thing all those years ago. Aofil’s not a hundred percent certain that he won’t use it to slink out of class assignments. He’s a normal high school pupil, after all, so of course he’d try to.

There’s also the fact that he’d be able to enter Aofil’s house even easier than he can now. Aofil already knows that they could lock themselves inside the most airtight safe in an undisclosed location inside the observable universe and the monsters would still be able to just show up and invite Aofil out, or the monster in, for lunch, work out, or taking care of pets.

It would save on Aofil having to install new panes of glass in their windows if Asriel could open the door for the monsters.

But now Aofil is reasoning for people to enter their house with even less of an effort so perhaps the answer’s answered itself already.

Yes, the monsters can enter their house more way than water can enter a freaking colander, but if Aofil can plug at least one of those holes, it’s a start.

“No,” they answer.

Let’s see if the plug will hold.

“Alright,” Asriel answers. In his own voice.

Good start.

“Where’s the snail shop, by the way?” Frisk wonders in an attempt to change the subject. “Nearby?”

“Closer to the town center,” Aofil informs while pointing over yonder towards said center. “As in, smacked right in the middle of it. How it managed to stay in business before the monsters resurfaced, I have not the foggiest of clues. Could be that it was a money laundering scheme for all I know.”

“They don’t have to launder money to stay in the black now though,” Frisk adds while tapping their elbow against Asriel’s arm. “I know mom puts in orders whenever she can.”

“That where she gets her snails from normally?” Aofil moves their extended finger over to the now overgrown shortcut they took Frisk through to their soccer practice a long time ago. “Or does she catch the snails herself?”

Frisk’s head is stuck looking the other way, across the street, towards an even more sad looking building.

The orphanage.

Aofil taps on Asriel’s shoulder before he walks off without his sibling. He looks worryingly over to Frisk, but Aofil motions for him to stay put for the time being.

“I’m fine,” Frisk says out loud, probably sensing the worry from Asriel behind them. “I just...”

“You had the same look when we walked here all those years ago, Frisk,” Aofil says, causing Frisk to turn. “Tugged at my shirt and everything. I always found that strange about you. You didn’t really act your age. Couple of years younger than you actually were. I know the reason now, of course, but I didn’t at the time.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Aofil.” Frisk looks over their shoulder, but immediately looks back as if the sight of the orphanage stung them in the eye. The worn down building would cause discomfort in anyone looking at it, but Frisk actually having lived in that must go double for them, at the very least. “You did more than that orphanage had ever done in that short time you were with us back then.”

“Was it really short?” Aofil retorts after motioning with a quick motion of their hand that the three should continue. “If we count the time I spent in the hospital during that first reset...let’s see...”

A quick chuckle escapes Frisk.

“I was kinda under it for a while so I’m not entirely sure the exact number of days,” Aofil defends while tapping the side of their skull. “It’s a good thing the reset happened otherwise I’d have lingering brain damage.”

“No,” Frisk shakes their head while keeping their smile wide, “it’s not that. It’s the fact that you can talk about it so casually. That you’ve gotten over it, at least enough that you can talk about it.” They look at Aofil, and at Asriel. “It feels good to hear that my efforts has come through. That I’ve managed to,” Frisk connects their fingers together, squeezing them tightly, “fix everything, you know?”

Aofil and Asriel share a glance.

“I’m not saying that it’s just because of me.”

“It’s kinda what you said,” Asriel points out while he narrows his eyes.

Frisk sighs through their lips as they massage their forehead. “Let me rephrase that then.” Their hand stops mid squeeze, leaving their forehead wrinkled as if they’ve spent their entire life under water. After a couple of silent second they open their mouth hesitantly. “I...I’m glad that memories finally have come to the point where they’re just that. Memories. Not something we have to be careful to talk about lest deja vu takes over ones mind.” They put their hand over their chest. “Not something that grips me, or you, or you, or anyone else for the matter, by the soul, squeezing it to the point of tears, if not more.”

Aofil puts their hand over their chest as well. They know exactly what Frisk is speaking about.

Asriel does too.

“But now when I say it, it doesn’t feel like the entire world is gonna crash down,” Frisk continues after taking a steadying breath. “It doesn’t feel like a reset would be the best course of action for me. It feels, like nothing.”

Frisk’s hand moves up to their head. “It feels a bit here, but not in my soul, and it’s not like it was before. Not even close. It’s more the feeling you get when you remember that awkward thing you did before.”

Yes...small awkward thing. As all humans do. Die, reset, fuse with a dead monster prince, etc.

“Look.” Frisk heaves another sigh as Asriel and Aofil just shake their head. “You get the gist of it, right? It’s not like before, for the better, right? We’ve moved forward. What happened in the Underground...it happened. We were all there.”

Not everyo-

“Lower your finger, Aofil,” Frisk snarls. “I’m trying to explain this, alright?”

Aofil lowers their halfway raised finger.

“We’ve all moved away from it literally, and now it seems that we’re doing it figuratively as well. It’s just...” Frisk scoffs a chuckle again. “I’m just so relieved! I can’t explain it! It’s so...” They drag a sob through their clogging nose. “It’s so...”

Asriel moves in for Frisk to lean in on. They do so with a smile stretching their cheeks far and wide, but with heavy tears pouring out like the Waterfall through their eyes.

“I’m so...”

They can barely speak.

Poor kid.

Aofil puts a hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “You’ve done good, kiddo. None of us would be here without you. Asriel and I know exactly what you’re talking about, Frisk, don’t you worry. Let those tears flow, you need this.”

Aofil lifts their head up to meet Asriel’s. “You can stand getting your designer shirt wet for your sibling, right?”

Asriel nods. “Royal Sibling Frisk crying their eyes out onto Mettaton merchandise?” he poses, Aofil’s gonna guess rhetorically. “He’d be wheel over box if he saw this excellent advertising opportunity.”

Frisk chokes on a snicker, scoffing hard into Asriel’s shirt. “I don’t know what’s in store for my birthday, but I’ve already gotten the best gift.”

Oh yeah, that.

Aofil still needs to figure out a present to buy for Frisk. Perhaps they should ask some of the goats about it.

But what can they buy that can live up to giving peace of mind?

Hm…

“Give me a minute, will you?” Frisk asks as they gently push away from Asriel. With their hands drying their eyes, Frisk heads over the street towards the orphanage.

“You’re a good brother,” Aofil informs Asriel as Frisk walks out of hearing distance. “Reminds me of my own.”

Asriel turns his furrowed head around.

“My adopted brother,” Aofil adds as they watch Frisk pace carefully at the gate leading up to the orphanage.

“Oh, right.”

“He did good by me. Someone I could lean on when I needed to. Taught me how to pick a lock, almost taught me how to use a skateboard, helped me forge my exam score, etc.”

“Helped you forge your exam score?” Asriel crosses his arms while tilting his chin up to rest it on his moral high ground that he suddenly finds himself on top of. “What a good thing for a teacher to say.”

Aofil shoots back a gaze through narrowed eyes back at Asriel. “It was in elementary school. The teacher had it in for me.”

“And the cycle repeats,” Asriel whispers.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Mhm?

“Anyway.” Aofil pauses for a bit as they see Frisk vault over the gate. Asriel doesn’t react to the action though, so Aofil shouldn’t either. Maybe the two have talked about this before. “What’s a good gift to give to Frisk?”

“You being there is gonna be gift enough,” Asriel assures with a nod.

“You say that,” Aofil pats their chest, “but I won’t feel that. Just give me some suggestions.”

Asriel’s forced to rub his head at that. He blows his lips as he bends his neck backwards. “Putting me on the spot here, Aofil.”

A snicker is summoned out of Aofil. “I might have to retract my statement over you being a good brother.”

“Did your brother get you good gifts?”

“He-” Aofil’s hand move up to their mouth. They can’t lie about that, their body refuses to. It’s such a false pretense that it goes straight to their nervous system. “I might have to retract my statement about retracting my statement.”

Asriel seems relieved over hearing that. “Good,” he says through a relieved sigh, further cementing his relief. “That’s a relief,” he reliefs himself further.

“So, nothing comes to mind?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Asriel says almost like an apology. “Head’s not really in the right phase for planning birthdays at the moment.”

Aofil throws their hand out towards Frisk leaning their closed fist against the orphanage door. “Something to do with this?” they reckon.

“Part of it, yes.”

“Right.”

A woman opens the door to the orphanage. Frisk seems unsure what to do, or what to say. Perhaps they didn’t plan ahead for this, for someone to actually open. Sure doesn’t look like it the way they’re clenching their fists at their sides.

“Have they talked to you about this before?” Aofil asks Asriel, but his eyes are too focused on Frisk to hear what Aofil asked.

It’s answer enough for Aofil though.

The woman exchanges a few words with Frisk, and then motions for the inside. Frisk holds their step on the rickety stairs leading in. Their neck turns just the slightest before moving back forward. Even from across the street Aofil can see their shoulders heave, and their sigh moving in before they do. The woman closes the door slowly after Frisk.

“They have,” Asriel says after waiting for a few seconds. He nods. “I think it was for that reason Frisk decided to follow us here. They could probably see the paint on the wall with the Pastor, and you going to see your parents, Aofil.”

“Ink on the wall, more like.” But Aofil’s in agreement there. Frisk has their eyes opens about the world and people around them.

Well...metaphorically, that is.

“Last chapter for them to close about their time before the Underground?” Aofil hazards a guess. “Kinda like what you did too at the graveyard while talking to my parents?”

Asriel nods before heading for a nearby bench situated at the entrance to the overgrown shortcut. “More or less. I still have something else I want to do when we arrive to the snail shop, if that’s fine with you?”

“It’s gonna be finer if you tell me what it is you’re planning exactly,” Aofil shoots back as they sit down next to Asriel who retracts his arm from laying flat on the backrest.

“That would be spoiling it though?”

Aofil’s eyes dart from side to side as they search for the point.

They don’t find it.

“No?” slips out of their confused tongue. “It wouldn’t? It would-”

But Asriel’s already on his phone.

Typical…

Aofil leans back.

Kids these days. Can’t even go five seconds without fumbling for their phone.

They reach into their pocket.

Aofil’s just gonna check their mail. It’s important stuff, not frivolous like what Asriel’s doing and- Oh! New update about Mew Mew season five?

Aofil’s hunches forward as they read vigorously.

A while after, a shadow is cast over Aofil and Asriel. “Um...”

Hm? What?

“Are we going?”

Aofil looks up. “Yeah.” They pocket their phone. “Sure. How long were you in there, Frisk?”

“A while," they answer.

Oh…

Ow…

Aofil shouldn’t really be leaning forward like that.

They push their lumbar back into place as they stand up from the bench.

Asriel holds his finger extended for a few seconds before he pockets his own phone and hops up, seemingly without any pain or discomfort.

Aofil has to consciously stop themselves from angrily grumbling.

“Right!” Asriel claps his recently vacated hands together. “Let’s go! Snails ahoy.”

Frisk and Aofil share a look.

“Hooray?”


	141. You want soul with that?

“It’s fortunate that the snail shop lies downwind, to be honest.”

“Says you!”

Aofil nods once. “Yes, I do. The ozone in the CORE doesn’t hold a candle to the thick and buzzling cloud ever present in that snail shop. You don’t even have to open up the pots, really. Just grab a container and swoop the air and you’ll get enough taste to last you a lifetime.”

“Plus,” Frisk adds while cupping their hands together. “If you hold a live candle inside the store it’ll,” they throw their arms out, almost hitting both Aofil and Asriel in the face with the back of their palms, “explode!”

Asriel can’t believe his own sibling betraying him like this! “Frisk?” 

They wave the accusation off. “It’s just snails, Asriel. I know you love them, but I don’t.”

“You’ve grown up on them though,” Aofil interjects, akin to throwing fuel onto a fire.

“We already had this discussion less than an hour ago!” Frisk’s hands fall down on the side of their legs with an audible smack. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The plaza’s lights flicker to life. Like big fireflies strung like a necklace worn by the houses circling it, the plaza puts on its dinner accouterments just like its inhabitants are served their own accouterments for their dinners.

A group of monsters and humans sit at a large round table surrounded by potted plants of various colors and shapes. They look like the plants Asgore has in his garden, albeit less, well, taken care of by Asgore. The laughs and guffaws from the group is seldom interrupted, and even more rarely is the interruption not interrupted by a table neighbor elbowing and saying something that causes the half eaten food to spew forth as if shot out of a cannon.

The lingering snicker after the blast sounds fairly similar to the simmer of said cannon cooling down after discharging.

Aofil suggests with a subtle nudge to Frisk that maybe they should stay clear of that table lest they get a free serving of half eaten food served directly onto their clothes.

Frisk sends the nudge over to Asriel. “So, now that you’re here, Az.”

“Hm?” he answers vacantly.

Frisk lifts up one of his ears and snap their fingers underneath it. He recoils from the sound, jerking his ear back to his cheek with a soft thud. “Now that you’re here, Az,” Frisk repeats. “Pray tell. You promised us you would.”

Asriel eyes move over to Aofil for a second before returning to Frisk’s. “Last time I was here with Aofil, we went to the snail shop.”

“That I know, yes,” Frisk answers.

“And the cashier recognized me.”

“As in?”

“Me being the prince.”

“Right.”

Asriel turns himself over towards the snail shop. “It didn’t really sit well with me at the time.”

“We talked about that,” Aofil remembers. “Quite a bit, actually. Both on the drive over, and during our dinner.”

“Did some on the way back with the tow driver too.”

“History repeats, it seems.” Aofil nods to themselves. “And now you’re gonna try and see if you’ve learned from it?”

“More or less,” Asriel answers while dragging a steadying sigh. He lingers his eyes on the storefront. On the sign that says ‘Shelling snails with great taste and prices for all your gastroponimal needs!’

His eyes quickly move on from that.

“I have to see if this...feeling I have.” Asriel puts his hand over his chest. “I have to test if it might be permanent. I have to push it to its brink to see if I can rely on it from now on.”

“What’s the feeling?” Aofil asks despite having a pretty good guess what it might be.

Asriel exhales a pleased snicker through his nose. He turns his head slowly around while exposing his teeth in a relieved smile. “Hope.”

Close enough of a guess.

“I...I’m not sorry about saying this, but I’m not happy either. Might afterwards once it’s sunk in a bit, but I feel like I’ve been carrying Chara around ever since I came back. Your soul and theirs, Aofil, they’re the same, as you probably know.”

Not to their pleasure.

“They feel the same too to us monsters. I’ve always known that it’s been yours, but I’ve always felt that it was Chara’s. Can’t speak for what mom and dad feel, but they’ve coped with it better than I have, that’s for certain.”

Aofil and Frisk trade glances as Asriel’s busy closing his eyes as he squeezes his chest harder.

“But as time’s gone on, and Chara’s been...not forgotten, but less influential, I’ve struggled to feel who’s soul it is that’s inside of me. Is it mine? No, it’s a human’s. Is it yours, Aofil? I couldn’t know, since you weren’t with us. It’s been something foreign to me, and if my soul is foreign, am I foreign?”

Without thinking, Aofil clasps their hand around the fur on their other arm. They realize their action a moment later, but they have no recollection of doing it. Could it be...

“And it was cycling like that as I grew up. My magic, it felt like someone else’s, and since I am the magic, then how can I be myself?” Asriel throws his hand up haphazardly, letting it fall freely onto his thigh. “Then you came back, Aofil. You came back, and that feeling came back. About Chara, about you, I couldn’t differentiate the two.”

Explains a few things.

“I guess...I took it out on you because I felt you to be Chara. It took me a while before I realized that you were not.”

Aofil nods. “I see.”

“I know it’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation. Although, I can’t say that it really got better once I felt it to be your soul too. Might’ve gotten Chara out of the picture, but I still felt like it wasn’t me inside.”

“I’ve told you-”

“I know you’ve told me,” Asriel interrupts harshly. He bites down immediately after. Seems like he did it a bit too harshly for himself. “And I know that, but it wasn’t until the graveyard that I felt it. When we...sparred, I felt your presence more than ever, Aofil. I felt something else too, but it took me a while before I realized that. I flew up wide awake a couple of nights after.”

“Oh...” Frisk nods as their brow furrows. “So that’s why...”

“What did you think I was doing?” Asriel shoots back while leaning his head in towards Frisk.

“It’s better if I don’t answer it. Trust me on that.”

“I was not-”

“Alright!” Aofil’s putting a stop to this before they hear too much. Even if it means the large table nearby turning quiet and looking over their way. Aofil waits for the laughter and joyful banter to resume from behind them before motioning for Asriel to continue.

“I,” Asriel takes a deep breath, “I felt myself too.” He looks over to Aofil’s arm. “The small, tiny, sliver that was left behind by the Asriel that died as he fused with Chara. The Asriel that became Flowey, I felt him.”

Frisk takes a step into his vision. “Asriel, you are-”

Asriel interrupts Frisk with a palm raised sternly. “I realized that I felt him, and that he felt like me. That I felt something that I could say was me. What I wanted me to feel like. The following days the feeling grew stronger and stronger. A seed that’s taken root. When it did though, I felt something else. You, Aofil, I felt you getting anxious, scared.”

They’re not sure how to feel about Asriel talking about them feeling. Does he mean their soul? He has to be, right?

“When we reached your family’s grave, Aofil. When I kneeled down at it, your soul spoke to me.”

“Literally?”

Asriel’s eyes turn sour and angry. “Just be quiet for now, okay?” he almost scolds to Aofil. No sign of regretting that too. His eyes keep their hard stare even after Aofil flinches from the sheer growl behind the words.

They put up their palms in surrender. “Sorry.”

Damn, Aofil still has no clue about this soul business. Looks like they never will considering how much information has been poured all over them yet with nothing sticking.

“Just as how your parents spoke to you, Aofil, your soul spoke to me. I guess it only now realized that it wasn’t inside you any longer. It’s a fighter, it’s kept up hope about returning to you for all this time. It took me praying to your parents that it finally understood that it shouldn’t no longer. It should no longer fight to remain yours since it was no longer yours. It knew, but now it felt it too. It wasn’t sad about it though. It understood, but it asked me if it could say goodbye first. It did so with a child’s voice. It sounded a lot like Chara’s. It wasn’t Chara though, it was yours. I felt that, and then...”

Asriel scoffs, knocking a couple of tears out of his eyes.

“I felt myself.”

“Huh...” No wonder he’s been so uppity all of a sudden. “Feels good?” Aofil asks.

Asriel nods. “It does.” Carefully he dries off his eyes, lingering his hand so that he can see the drops absorb into his fur. “My god it does.”

The large table again turns quiet, and murmurs start circling, as well as subtle twists of the occupants’ heads as they cast glances over their shoulders over to Asriel. He seems to be feeling them hitting his back, so he straightens it out. He inhales some careful breaths, exhaling them quietly before spinning on his heels.

Alright?

The table is silenced in shock as Asriel walks over with a slight bow to mark his entrance. “I do hope I am not interrupting your company, but I couldn’t help but feel your curiosity tugging at my collar. No reason to apologize for that,” he assures with a soft motion of his hand towards the table. “Was there anything you wanted to ask me, perchance?”

The table trade glances with itself. Worried, almost guilty looks, shoot across like an unmanned hose on full blast. One of the monsters, an orange lizard of sorts, opens her mouth timidly. “W-we were just curious why the Prince was here.” She moves her hand up and down Asriel’s body. “In...not Royal Purple. Not the wine, that is, but the robes.”

Asriel tilts his chin down at his clothes. “Gotta wash it every once in a while,” he says with a smile and a warm chuckle.

Aofil can’t help but hear Asgore’s voice in that chuckle. The same hearty laugh summoned from the most jolly, or golly, of places. It’s not that he’s mimicking his dad, but that he’s sounding just the same, without mimicking.

“Any worries you’re having?” Asriel asks as he puts his hands together while looking across the table. “Utilities, buildings, holes in the road?” he continues while moving his open palms as trays of finger food.

Heh, finger food.

Frisk shoves their elbow into Aofil side to shut their giggling up.

The table hesitates to answer. Too baffled to figure one out, it looks like. Aofil would be too, so they’re not blaming them. 

“Refill of drinks?”

Alright, maybe he’s going a bit too far now.

“Toothpicks?”

Maybe has become certainly!

Aofil steps up to Asriel, placing a hand on his shoulder as they bow respectfully. “Prince?” The word feels weird in Aofil’s mouth. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’re on the clock, remember?”

Asriel opens his mouth to retort, but Aofil squeezes his very visible tendon with their finger, so nothing comes out of it.

“I wish you a pleasant evening,” Aofil informs the table before steering Asriel away. “Come now, Prince.”

“But-”

Aofil pushes another squeeze into Asriel’s shoulder. “We mustn’t dawdle.”

The fact that Aofil’s found themselves in a situation where saying that actually makes sense is gonna haunt them for the rest of their life. 

“What the hell was that?” asks Frisk after throwing their arms out. They keep them outstretched as Asriel shakes his head and smacks his lips in thought. It’s a good thing Undyne’s been training Frisk, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to keep their arms like that for as long as it takes for Asriel to finish deliberating.

“I...I think I feel it now.” Asriel says as he traces his finger over his chest. “Think I know where it is.”

“It sounded like it took you over a bit though,” Aofil informs while subtly nodding back to the table that’s luckily retreated back to talking among itself. “That the hope you were talking about?”

Asriel nods. “Yes, and yes, I might’ve lost myself a bit there.”

Frisk steps forward. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to be hearing you not collapsing in on yourself after someone sees you as the Prince, even more so you acting like one. It’s...” They has to put a hand up to their head to stop it spinning. “It’s a bit confusing to watch, to say the least.”

“I think Frisk is trying to say that it’s a good thing, this,” Aofil explains to Asriel after a perplexed shake of his head. “But that it might’ve been a bit too much. I’m glad too that you’ve seemingly gotten over this. It’s great!” They raise their index finger slowly. “However, it’s also a bit weird.”

Frisk agrees with a nod. “I guess this is what we can call your magic from now on, Az. You’re gonna have to learn it though. Gonna have to learn how to not act like you’re trying to sell them pyramid schemes, you know?”

“Is...” Asriel’s head turns halfway around before he realizes that it might be a bad idea. “Is that what I sounded like? To me, it sounded like I was on top of things.”

Aofil pinches their index finger and thumb together while narrowing their eyes. “A bit too much on top of things.” They shrug friendly immediately after though. “But hey, it’s progress. Damn good progress! I can’t see anything bad with having you finally come out of your shell, so to speak.”

“Would make Gerson happy, at the very least,” Asriel adds with a chuckle.

Aofil offers an understanding, yet stern hand on Asriel’s shoulder. He tenses it in case Aofil decides to squeeze it again. They’re tempted too. “You’re taking after Toriel in the wrong way, Asriel. Didn’t you express a bit of embarrassment when she asked you to imitate her?”

“I’m allowed to make jokes,” Asriel retorts.

No.

“Anyways!” Aofil releases their grip from Asriel. “Dinner. That’s why we came here, right? Asriel has shown us that he’s come to understand himself.” They extend their finger over to Frisk. “You’ve had your shoulders lifted as if tied to helium balloons. And I have learned that I may or may not have had a mage as an old relative. We’ve earned our appetite, let’s sate it.”

Frisk nods over to the snail shop to get the other to follow them. “Weren’t you against Cter being your relative when you heard it, Aofil?”

They shrug. “Now that I’ve digested it, unlike the dinner I’ve craved for.”

“So why are you allowed to make jokes?” Asriel asks. “Just because you have a mage in your family tree?”

“Something along those line.”

Asriel shakes his head. “Guess I’ll have to inform Sans and mom when I get home.”

“Yeah, too bad.” Aofil stops. “Don’t tell them anything about Cter, by the way.”

Frisk stops too, albeit with a more annoyed gesture as they throw up their hands. “Could you please make up your mind, Aofil?” 

“I’m just...” Oh, Aofil is too hungry to argue this. They’ll cross that bridge once they get some food in them. “Alright, tell them if you feel you need to. Let’s get some eating going.”

“So I’m guessing that I’m heading over to the snail shop while you two head somewhere else?” Asriel asks while throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Meet you at the place we sat before, Aofil?”

“Sure.” Aofil nods to Frisk. “There’s a hole in the wall a bit further away that does pretty good grill by a fire monster. Not as good as Grillby’s, but still very much eatable. Same soda, by the way, Az?” they remind themselves to ask.

“Yup!” he answers with half a shout before entering the snail shop. Through the glass window the two humans can see Asriel startling the monster cashier by his presence. Before it can bow he puts up a friendly hand to stop it, and motions it afterwards across the many flavors on display.

“It is really weird seeing him act like that,” Frisk comments under their breath as they turn away to look for the hole in the wall. “But god damn, I can’t feel bad about it.”

Good to hear.

“Things are looking up,” Aofil adds while taking a deep breath. “Can’t say that I can feel about that neither. Cter not withstanding, that is.”

“Not to be rude, but if its really been as long as to cover two whole books of family trees, then it shouldn’t really be that much of a matter?” Frisk points over to the hole in the wall they hazard to be the one Aofil talked about. “It’s like calling a drop of soda in a pitcher of water bad for your teeth.”

Aofil can...kinda...agree to that. “Well since my dad did some magic before I can’t really put it all the way behind me, but that’s for me to do, you do whatever. Don’t really think it’ll make that big a difference, unless Cter was in the part of my soul that Asriel took and is now controlling him like a-”

“Stop.”

Yeah, Aofil should probably stop. “Anyways.” They clear their throat. “Still don’t have any clue what the monsters are to do for your birthday, Frisk. I’ll get back to poking about tomorrow once today is over.”

Frisk extends an approving thumb. “Neat. Gotta say that I’m looking forward to it a bit better now that today’s happened, to be honest. Less real worry, so now I can spend more of that worry about how embarrassing they’re gonna make it.”

“I think I might be involved.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Frisk stops in their track, eyes opened wide. “Could you order for me?” Their knees bend, and their head begin darting back and forth, surveying the area in half a panic. “Please?”

Aofil stops as well. “What is it?”

“You see a toilet nearby?”

Oh. “Yeah, I think at the exit and to the left. What do you want?”

“Justaburgerwithfriesandwhateversoda!” Frisk answers as they burst away in a whole a panic.

Fair enough. Hopefully they’re back before Aofil has to carry everything to the table.

Oh, wait. They were served in a second when they ordered before.

Dammit.

They could sure use a pair of hands right now.

“order ketchup for me?”

“Fuck! Shit!” Aofil recoils violently away from the sudden gust of wind materializing next to them. 

The fire monster from inside the hole in the wall pokes his head out. “You alright?”

Aofil has to let their heart settle itself back down into their chest before they can answer. “Y-yes. I’ll order in a bit.”

“I’ll be here,” the fire monster informs before returning to his station.

“i heard they got some from the underground here. been a while. do it for a friend? some ketching up?”

Aofil’s teetering whether to kick or shove Sans. They’d do both if they could. “What are you doing here?”

“isn’t it-”

“No,” Aofil interrupts with a stern palm raised. “It’s never obvious with you. Never has, never will. What do you want?”

“got a call from queen’s truly,” he explains while none too subtly nodding for the hole in the wall. “said i should hand you this here document i have inside my jacket.”

“Apparently she don’t want me to read it since it’ll be stained with more varieties of condiments than this here grill shop.”

Sans shrugs. “i’m just the messenger.”

“Sure you are. Stained messenger.”

The fire monster pokes his head up again. “So, what’ll it be?” he asks while tapping the plastered menu next to his hole.

“Two number nines. Two, no, three colas to boot.”

“Number nine large?” the fire monster pries.

“No, but one with extra dip, please.”

“Anything else?”

Aofil glances down at Sans. They sigh. “Two containers of ketchup to go along. Make one as big as you can, please.”

The fire monster blinks once, and a pair of small orange embers sail up before sizzling away. “Alright, give me just a sec.”

Aofil swipes their card to pay before turning their head down to Sans. “Can you help me carry it all to the table? Frisk left for the bathroom, and by some magical coincidence you showed up just after.”

“yeah, i know,” Sans answers while tucking his hand underneath his chin. “what extreme coincidence that i would wait for chance to not have the person i’m trying to keep what i’m gonna give you a secret about to not be nearby when i reveal it.”

“Here you go!” The fire monsters almost shoves the two bags of really tasty smelling food into Aofil’s arms. “Ketchup is inside.”

“keeping it hostage, are we?” Sans accuses with a chuckle before grabbing Aofil’s side. A second later they’re at an empty table, and Sans looks up to Aofil for his payment.

“Wrong table.” Aofil nods over to the one they and Asriel sat at before. “It’s that one.”

“that’ll cost you extra.”

Aofil withholds their answer until after the second shortcut. “No, it’ll not,” they say as they place down the bags of food. They rummage through one, and find a container of ketchup that they hand over to Sans. 

He takes it while putting his hand inside his jacket.

“Didn’t know you could shortcut all this way, Sans.”

“i can’t.”

“So?”

His eyes narrow in confusion. “so i just did it more than one time,” he explains. His tone suggests that he shouldn’t have to. “you of all people...”

Aofil takes the document in their hand. It’s stained, but luckily the fire monster threw in a bunch of paper napkins along with the food. Must’ve deduced the necessity from the look of Sans’ jacket.

“keep it away from the kiddo though,” Aofil hears Sans say, but fails to catch him saying it. A small breeze passes their legs from where he stood just a second ago.

Aofil opens the folder, and their brow immediately furrows.

“What in the goddamn?”


	142. Humans to be humored

“What in the goddamn?”

“Yeah! I know!”

“But why would you show this to me, Aofil?”

“Just thought you should know.”

“Alright? I’m not sure how I’ll have use of this homework though.”

Aofil halts their cup at their lips. “Homework?” they ask as they carefully set the cup back down. “What do you mean?”

Tylior sends the folder back over the table with a quick flick before picking up his own cup as Aofil leans forward. “The homework you just gave me.”

Aofil didn’t…

Oh, they did.

They shove the homework essay back into their bag. Carefully they rummage around the housewarming present taking up most of the space in their bag. The other folder is a little bit stuck. Maybe if they carefully…

Ah! There we go!

Aofil checks the content to make sure it isn’t another homework. Nope, it’s the correct one this time. They slide it over in time for Tylior to return his now half empty cup of coffee to the table. He picks it up and opens it. His brow immediately shoot down over his eyes, like an anchor being dropped into the sea. The chain dragging the wrinkles on his forehead ever deeper until he can barely see through the perplexed flesh covering his eyes.

“What in the goddamn?” he repeats.

“Yeah. I know.”

“But why would you show this to me, Aofil?”

“Just thought you should know.”

“Alright? I’m no sure how I’ll have use of these plans though. I mean...” His words trail off as he skims the pages again, lifting them up and rechecking them so quickly he might whip up a hurricane from flapping the paper so much. “Why would the Queen be-”

His eyes begin to blink. Aofil knows the pattern. Disbelief. Proper disbelief.

Same as they had when they first lay eyes upon it.

“Why are you on this list? And why are you… No, that can’t be right. That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“It does! Plenty of sense!” Aofil retorts as they beckon for Tylior to hand it back over.

He seems to be glad to get it off his hands. “How so?”

Aofil shrugs. “Beats me since I haven’t figured it out yet.” They deposit the folder back into their backpack and pick up their cup. A quick refresh of their mouth later they lean back in their chair. “It’s a miracle I’ve been able to think clearly this last week. Just another sign that the absurd has become normal for me, I guess. This though.” Aofil taps their backpack with the heel of their foot. “This takes the cake.”

A spider rappels down curiously.

“No thanks,” Aofil informs it. “Just a coffee for today. We’re about to leave.”

The spider nods and zips back up into the rafters.

“I didn’t see Muffet’s name on the folder.” Tylior nods carefully inside the Spider Cafe. “Didn’t she play a part in Frisk’s travels?”

“Not a lot if I got the story straight,” Aofil answers before sipping themselves some more coffee. “Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s gonna contribute in her own way.”

Tylior shoots a glance through the large window towards Muffet working busily inside her bakery. He thumbs his spider web laced coffee cup carefully before nodding to himself. “I see.” He puts the cup against his lips, but removes it immediately afterwards as he finds it to be empty. Another spider rappels down and points one of its legs at the cup. Tylior looks over to Aofil with eyebrows raised in question.

“Up to you,” Aofil answers as they finish their own coffee. “Do we have time? What time is it?”

Tylior throws his arm up so that his long sleeved shirt retracts to expose his wristwatch. “Sevoltne should be here in a few minutes, if she’s not just around the corner.”

“Then we’re good,” Aofil relays to the spider. It swings itself up.

“Is Muffin gonna come screeching out the door any second now?” Tylior asks with a sigh as he observes the spider slipping back inside through a knothole in one of the planks.

Aofil doesn’t even have time to answer before the glass door a few meters behind them is flung wide open accompanied with an incredibly slobbering sound. Aofil scoots their chair back a few reserved hops to have some space between them and the table. “No jumping, Muffin,” they say over their shoulder to the large spider running his damnedest and with his tongue dragging almost the entire length of his body. 

“No whining either,” Aofil adds as Muffin stops in his track while averting his head with an angry huff. “I’m going to a housewarming party with my friend here.”

Muffin’s eyes peer hard at Tylior.

“No jealousy too, Muffin.”

He goes back to his huffing.

“Really amazing how you’re comfortable with this, Aofil,” Tylior says from his perched position on his chair with his legs retracted up on it.

“Once you get to know him,” Aofil explains while scratching Muffin behind his ear. “Although getting to know him is the tough part, I admit, but once you do.” They move their scratching fingers a bit further down, causing Muffin to fall over in a pleased sigh. His tongue rolls out onto the pavement, but Aofil carefully kicks it back up on his exposed stomach with their toes. “You want to?”

“No.”

“Alright. Your loss.”

“No.”

Fair enough.

“Ahuhuhu~” Muffin’s head greets as she leans it out from the glass door frame. Her pigtails whip hard from the abrupt stop. “Leaving already, Aofil?”

Muffin’s eyes lock hard on Aofil. He wants to know too.

“Just a coffee for today, Muffet,” Aofil has to unfortunately inform her. They check behind their shoulder with Tylior. “Right?”

“Yes,” Tylior answers after throwing a seething look at Aofil for putting it all on him.

“Then I’ll go get your order then, Aofil,” Muffet says with giddy and excitement. She whistles once to get Muffin’s attention. He follows her back inside with the same giddy and excitement like his owner has.

“Order?” Tylior pries.

“For your housewarming.”

“Oh.”

A minute later Muffet appears again carrying a silk wrapped parcel, probably of her own making, in two of her hands. She skits over to Aofil and hands it over along with a note.

Note?

“Is it a declaration of love?” Tylior teases with an intrigued smile stretching his cheeks after Muffet heads back into her cafe. “Pray share?”

Aofil shoots back a pair of unamused eyes. They present the note between two of their fingers. “It’s the check. Still want it?”

Tylior sighs, almost as if Aofil’s disappointed him by telling the truth. “No, it’s fine.” His ear cocks and he turns his head around. “Sevoltne is here now,” he informs as he stands up.

Aofil packs in the parcel into their bag while Tylior is busy looking out for when Sevoltne rounds the corner. She does a couple of seconds after Aofil’s managed to stuff the parcel as carefully as they can inside their backpack.

“Did you know that Aofil has an affair with the owner of the Spider Cafe?” Tylior asks Sevoltne as he seats himself in the passenger seat.

“Did you also know that Tylior is full of shit?” Aofil adds as they seat themselves behind Tylior.

“Sounds like the two of you had a pleasant time,” Sevoltne sighs out before racking the car violently into first gear so that Tylior can’t turn around to continue his childish behavior. “Your friends are already at the apartment, by the way.”

“What?” Tylior checks his watch again. “Why are they here so early?”

“Because you told them an hour earlier than what you planned too, I’m guessing,” Sevoltne answers with a slight ruffle to her feathers.

“Why didn’t they call?” Tylior wonders out loud as he rummages through his pocket. He manages to fish up his phone with a stern grunt, and checks it.

His face drains of color, and Aofil has to squint against the imposing white color reflecting in the rear view mirror.

“I had it on silent...”

Not even a sigh from Sevoltne. That says a lot. He must be doing that more than regularly if she can’t even muster up a sigh to shame him.

“Reminds me of when I had to jump between mine and your class because you slept in that one exam day when you absolutely couldn’t sleep in, Tylior.” Aofil shakes their head in acted disappointment. “Gonna have to take more than magic to get you to act as a proper adult, it seems. Not to undermine your efforts, Sevoltne.”

She meets Aofil in the rear view mirror. “You have a human soul, you try and convince him.” Her eyes saunter over to Tylior for a moment. He meets her with a warm smile, but she retreats away her eyes and shakes her head again. “I don’t think even the King or Queen would be strong enough to get him on other thoughts. Human influence is the only thing I can think to even come close to get him to act properly.”

“That reflects badly on you though,” Tylior retorts with a sinister grin.

“Pray tell,” Sevoltne challenges with a stern look.

“Because you love me.”

Wow!

Tylior’s soul must be bravery.

Or stupidity.

Probably the latter.

The car is still moving and he’s still inside it opposed to having been instantly thrown out by the sheer force of Sevoltne’s stare.

Guess he’s correct.

“You wouldn’t mind waiting a minute or so before entering, Aofil?” Tylior asks as Sevoltne pulls up to the apartment complex. “I have to look at least a bit competent as a host and arrive by myself instead of giving the notion that I’m prioritizing other guests.”

Both Aofil and Sevoltne halt their hands at the release for their seat belt in stunned bafflement.

“What?” the two mouth in tandem.

“Just trust me,” he pleads.

“No.”

“A favor to me, Aofil?” Tylior tries again with his hands put together, begging profusely. “Please?”

“I guess I can.” Aofil’s not really a hundred percent sure what the hell he’s talking about though. Way below a hundred percent. Ten?

No, still too much.

Tylior bounces out of the car with spring in his step. It takes a few second for Sevoltne to thaw up from her confused state and follow him. The two of them grab a bag each from the trunk, and Aofil takes their own backpack with them as they exit the car.

The building looks very modern. Perhaps it was one that Aofil looked at before when they lived with their fur covered arm hidden and shamed. The thought doesn’t bring a lot of worry to Aofil, which is a good sign. Guess they’ll just...lean up against the wall and count to a hundred or something.

“Code is 7235,” Tylior relays as he types it in on the keypad. “Fifth floor, second door to the right. Has my last name on it, you can’t miss it.”

Aofil slides their foot between the door and the frame just before it closes. “How many minutes?” they ask to Tylior entering the elevator.

He holds up an open hand.

Is he just waving? Or does he mean five minutes?

The ding and subsequent whir of the elevator drowns out Aofil’s request for clarification, and they’re left alone to wait.

He really is a character, that Tylior. Aofil’s never gonna manage to wrap their head around him. It’s good for them though.

Hopefully.

Be a bit confused about humans for a change. Gotta strike a balance. Soul mysteries and haunting memories on one hand. Human friend acting weird and confusing on the other.

Might not be perfect harmony with equal weight on both side, granted, yes. However, it’s a semblance of balance, and that Aofil’s gonna take hook, line, and sinker.

How long has it been now?

One minute? Two?

Three is stretching it.

Four might be too.

Five is definitely stretching it.

But it’s not breaking it.

So five minutes it is!

Time to head up.

A shadow passes them by on the ground. Aofil turns around, but they fail to catch who cast it.

Whatever then.

Aofil shares their elevator ride up along with a small rabbit sized monster with three eyes, making the right choice to wait for it to ask them for help to hit the top button instead of them asking to begin with.

Huh, maybe they’re starting to learn at least a bit.

They offer friendly nod to the monster as they exit the elevator on the fifth floor and get one back.

Right, second door to the right. Must be the one with the friendly commotion coming out of it. Aofil rings the doorbell, stopping just short of announcing their name to it. Which reminds them that they should add Tylior to their own doorbell when they get home later today.

The door is opened and a, feigned, surprised Tylior throws his arms out. “Aofil! You came!”

Aofil joins in the facade. “I did! Amazing!”

Tylior motions for them to take it down a notch or two before beckoning them inside. “Come in! Come in! We were just talking about you.”

Okay? “Is that so?” Aofil asks with a slight tilt of their brow. “Me?”

From further inside the apartment comes loud whispering. “Aofil? Here?” The voices are...familiar. Very familiar!

Is it?

Tylior nods with a pleased smile. “Been a while since we all had drinks together, so I figured why not get the gang back together now that I have a reason for it.” He motions for Aofil to follow him. “I’ll get you a glass, you say hi to them.”

As Aofil enters the living room they almost stumble back out of it. 

They’re here!

“Aofil!” Julie shouts as she rushes over with her arms ready to embrace. “It’s been so long! You’re teaching at Above School, right?” she asks as she wraps her arms around Aofil’s shoulders. Her drink almost spills out on Aofil’s back in her haste.

“Y-yeah,” Aofil answers as Julie lets them go. They survey the crowded living room. They’re all here. Julie, Frank, Piloya, Hetra. All of Aofil’s previous colleagues! 

Man...it’s been a while now.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, Aof!” Hetra teases while looking out the window. He drags a long whistle through his lips. “You of all people moving to Monster City.”

Aofil scratches their head at that. Nothing much else they can do, really. “Yeah.” Their confession borders guilt, and it might just as well be, considering the sudden silence they summoned with their scratch.

The soft fur passing across their cheek as they bring their arm back down might be the actual reason though as the entire room follows the movement with their eyes. Aofil turns it for them to better see.

“So that’s why you always wore long sleeves.” Piloya leans back onto the window sill with her arms crossed and her finger tapping on her half empty glass of beer. “Hetra,” she addresses with a subtle shake to her head. “You don’t even have to pay me for that bet. I mean, you have to, obviously,” she quickly corrects with a quick shrug of her shoulder, “but...you know.”

Aofil takes the glass handed to them from Tylior while keeping their eyes peeled on their ex colleagues. “You made bets about my arm?”

“Burn damage was the closest guess.”

Alright?

“We didn’t, I mean it sounds like we did, I get that, but we didn’t do it out of malice. We were just curious, and it was obviously something that weighed heavy on you.” Hetra explains with a hesitant movement of his glass. “Then when we heard that you put in your resignation and moved to Monster City, then all bets were off.”

“Apparently not since you owe Piloya for being wrong about my arm,” Aofil counters while flashing their arm. “You were all in on it?”

“Not Tylior.”

Aofil glances over to him. He shrugs.

“Something about knowing too much for it to be fair,” Frank says with a slight sigh to his voice. “If that was the case then none of us would’ve done it. We all knew about it.”

Aofil looks down at their drink. They swirl it carefully. “About my-”

“Yes.”

They put their drink up to their lips. “Right. I see.”

A heavy silence falls on the room.

They all knew? That’s not really a surprise to Aofil, but hearing it out loud. It’s a bit...tough. It’s all in the past though.

Aofil exhales deeply.

It’s all in the past…

Let it stay there.

“Anyways!” cheers Tylior, smashing the silence violently, starling his guests. “Sevoltne should be back in a bit with the hummus we forgot to buy, but I hope that the snacks are edible for now.”

“Where is Sevoltne, by the way?” Aofil asks curiously. Isn’t she here?

Tylior freezes in his outstretched pose for a second before thawing. “She’s out to the corner shop. Like I said.”

“I didn’t see her leave.”

“She has wings.” Tylior looks disappointed that he has to remind Aofil.

Oh, right.

“That’s another thing we’ve kinda wondered about, Aofil,” voices Juile. “Your...indifference to monsters…when you worked with us.” She meets Aofil’s eyes with her own curious ones. Hungrily, almost. Like Aofil’s about to reveal the secrets to the Universe. “And then...Monster City? Of all places?”

Aofil’s gonna need another sip of their drink for this one.

“Oh, they know the Royals on a first name basis,” Tylior answers before Aofil can finish their sip. “So they got a first pass.”

The drink barely has time to settle in Aofil’s mouth before they spurt it out along with a shocked cough.

The entire room falls dead silent, outside of Aofil’s rugged chokes. They can hear their rough inhale echo around the room after they manage to get some control over it.

“They’ve also showered with the leader of the Royal Guard and the Royal Scientist too.”

“No!” Aofil returns to their coughing as their desperate denial has their throat almost fold itself out of their mouth. 

Dammit, Tylior!

Once Aofil manages to get their lungs back under their control they take a deep breath. It aches in their throat.

“You know the Royals?” comes a quizzical question from Julie. She looks over her shoulder to the others, but they shrug their shoulders. Just as confused, they are. They’re not fully convinced, if you consider their unconvinced expression, that is.

“It’s a long story.” Aofil blows their lips as they shake their head. “A very long one.”

“Good thing we have plenty of time then!” cheers Tylior. “Why don’t you hand me my housewarming gift and then we’ll get underway with it.”

“You serious?” Aofil challenges with their brow lowered. They already know the answer though. Of course he is. Not serious in the sense of the word, quite the opposite, but he’s not gonna back away from this. Aofil walked right into his trap.

Rung the doorbell on the trapdoor, and stepped right in.

Dammit, Tylior.

Aofil’s gonna need something a bit stronger than the Mettaton branded beer Tylior handed them though if they’re gonna do this. Good thing they have a remedy for that.

Oh yes.

Aofil hands Tylior back the glass of barely sipped beer before squatting down to their backpack. They zip it open and hand Tylior the parcel ordered from Muffet.

Spider Candles, to summon spiders to take care of mosquitoes and such. Call it a monkey’s paw for Tylior. Gets what he wishes for when he complained about how there are always so many insect buzzing around his balcony. Won’t be having a lot of them around along with the spiders summoned by the candle.

Careful what you wish for.

“Here you go, Tylior,” Aofil says with a warm smile as they hand over the box. “A little something for you and the missus.”

“Thanks!”

Hehehehehehehe.

But now, for the piece de resistance, or bottle du Royale, to be more specific, or whatever it would be called properly.

A dark and mysterious purple haze is cast all over the brightly painted room as the sun crashes into the glass bottle with pressed markings in the shape of the Delta Rune. The entire room drags a collective breath. Stunned, adored, confused.

Mesmerized.

“I-is t-that?”

“Yup!” Aofil confirms with a smack of their lips. “A bottle of Royal Purple, and not only that.” They spin the bottle around and tap the bottom of the neck on the Delta Rune. “See this? Family Reserve.”

Since the rest of the room is too stunned to move an inch, Aofil decides to do Tylior’s work for him and pour everyone some of this purple gold.

“It all began one faithful day,” Aofil begins as they pop the cork. The healthy sound bounces pleasantly around the tiles in Tylior’s kitchen. “Faithful is a good word to use, since that was what had me getting up of the bed. A feeling of faithfulness.” They fumble for a couple of seconds between Tylior’s many kitchen drawers before finding some proper wine glasses that they arrange neatly on the kitchen island. Nothing less for this fine gift. “One I hadn’t felt in quite a while, but something happened that day that made me go...”

Aofil carefully moves the bottle between each glass.

“Screw it. This, this is the day!”

They reseal the cork.

“The iron gate squeaked as I opened it.”


	143. To celebrate the fallen

“Was that really a good idea to tell them all, Aofil?”

“I omitted some parts, of course.” Aofil quells a yawn while stretching their hands behind their back. “Didn’t tell them everything.”

“Probably for the better.”

They shake their hands loose. “Yup.”

Asriel spins the bus time table fastened on the pole next to the bench him and Aofil’s sitting on with a disinterested finger.

“It should be here by now, right?” Aofil asks over Asriel’s shoulder. The table is written in a rather small font, and that’s not even considering the plastic cover that’s inflated and bent in such a way that it’s obscuring the already barely readable font.

Asriel runs his finger down the plastic film to straighten it out for him to see. He still has to narrow his eyes to read. “Should be here any minute now,” he relays with a quick tilt of his head.

“It’s too bad Sans couldn’t just shortcut the two of us there.”

Asriel gives the time table a flick with his finger before shrugging his shoulders. “He’s probably busy with transporting everything over to Ebott. Or just busy, acting busy. Or busy...”

“Busy being himself so that he has to take a rest from being himself which only makes him more busy?” Aofil hazards a guess which they feel is pretty likely to be true. 

“Exactly. Would be my guess as well.”

“Gives us time to talk,” Aofil suggests. “If you want to, that is.”

Asriel nods to the bus rounding the corner before standing up. “About what?” he asks as he takes out his wallet and transit card.

Aofil fishes out theirs as well. “Been a few weeks since you got comfortable with the prince role. Heard you did some stuff afterwards with it. Haven’t really had the chance to ask with the extra work I’ve had to do to plan for the party today.”

“Extra work your cutlery had to do, you mean?” Asriel challenges over his shoulder as he blips his card on the machine next to the bus driver.

“Yes, yes,” Aofil admits as they follow up with their own card on the machine. “Still, been busy.”

“Busy with preparing for your role, I hope?”

Asriel finds an empty row that he sits down on. Aofil eases themselves down next to him just before the bus begins to move.

“As if I could forget,” Aofil whispers while shaking their head. “Who’s idea was it to begin with?”

“Wanna guess?” Asriel sends back along with a sly wink and a cocky smile. “It’s not who you think it is.”

“Asgore?” Aofil guesses. It’s not who they’d think it would be.

Asriel shakes his head. “Nope, not dad. Good guess though.”

“Good guess as in close, or?”

“No hints,” Asriel says before dragging his pinched fingers across his lips like a zipper. He opens it a bit as he remembers something. “Still not who you think it is,” he informs through the small opening he’s opened at the side of his mouth before closing it shut again.

“Alphys?” It has to be. Of everyone available she’s the one that’s most likely to-

“Nope,” Asriel answers through his shut lips. He opens them ajar again. “Again, not the one you think it is.”

“But if I don’t think it is them then they become the one I think it is, Asriel,” Aofil retorts with a pair of lowered eyebrows. 

Asriel zips opens his lips to say something, but he closes them again with an apologetic shrug. 

So if not Alphys, then perhaps. “Papyrus?” Aofil’s not really sure with the guess, to be honest.

The answer comes in the form of a shake of Asriel’s head.

Alright then, time for the wild card!

“Mettaton?”

Again with the shake. 

“I’m just gonna list the names until I finally get the name right, so just tell me, please.”

Asriel sighs. “Alright then, be boring. Gotta hurry up so that we don’t lose time that we can enjoy sitting on this bus.”

Aofil’s having none of that. “Not my fault that you forgot to charge your phone, prince boy,” they return over along with a pair of brows furrowed. They nod over to the front of the bus. “What if you hurt the driver’s feelings with talk like that?”

Asriel meets the eyes of the bus driver in the rear view mirror and waves an apologetic hand. The bus driver shakes her head before returning her eyes to the road where they should be.

Come to think of it, she didn’t even blink an eye or react when Asriel got on the bus. Neither did the few monsters sitting on the bus already when him and Aofil boarded. Just a monster and a human hoping on like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Perfectly ordinary, even.

And even more even with it being Asriel, apparently. Not that Aofil is gonna go around tucking at the collars of their fellow passengers and point to Asriel and ask them why they are not reacting. Tempting as it might be, they can’t really imagine it giving them anything in return.

Besides a seething look at Aofil while they destroy said collar.

“Folk seem to be as easy with you being the Prince as you are now,” Aofil voices with a bit of surprise as they run their eyes across the sporadically filled rows of the bus. “Guess that’s a good question to begin with.”

Asriel unzips his mouth. “What?”

“You’ve managed to strike a balance now with the role? At first, or at least, first when I met you, you were more reserved than a balcony table at Mettaton’s restaurant during the reveal of his new clothing collection.”

“You’re living evidence on the contrary, Aofil,” Asriel feels the need to remind. “Mom still has that recorded.”

“If I wanted to argue semantics I’d challenge a pun that Sans would do, Asriel,” Aofil feels the need to retort. One more time and they’ll tug at his ear.

“He does that?” Asriel wonders like it’s a surprise.

It being a surprise to Asriel is a surprise to Aofil. “You haven’t done that before?”

“No one else has,” Asriel defends. He shrugs, again like it’s a surprise. “Too busy groaning at the puns to challenge the semantic. Not a lot of determination left afterwards.”

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Aofil forebodes with a careful tap on their chest. “Even with my determination I had a hard time at it. It’s not that he cares that you do, despite him voicing against me voicing being clear proof otherwise. No, it’s more that he’s arguing against bringing up the argument.”

Aofil allows Asriel a couple of seconds to digest what they just said. His brow sink, and raise, as his mouth curls into a variety of forms all the while his head tilts side to side.

“I...think...I understand,” he says reservedly through gritted teeth. 

“Anyways, yes, don’t dawdle with Sans about his puns lest you want him to flap his non existing tongue at you for hours on end.”

“So that’s how he’s become on the Surface, ey?” Asriel crosses his arms as he scoffs through a smile. “I’ve struggled to find his acclimation, but perhaps he’s become a bit more defensive about his puns now that he’s realized that they have a lingering effect rather than being erased before they could.” He scratches his chin with his finger. “Fun stuff. Remind me to write it down later, please.”

Fun? Aofil cocks their head over with brows furrowed. “Fun stuff? How do you mean with writing it down too? Do you have a spreadsheet of all the monsters and how they’ve changed?”

Asriel’s claw stops scratching his cheek. His eyes dart over to Aofil for a second before moving away in embarrassment. “Not a spreadsheet per say...”

Oh for-

Wait.

“You serious?” Aofil shoots over.

No answer.

Asriel’s cheeks are too red for him to answer.

Yup, serious.

Aofil massages their forehead with their hand as their head shakes in shared shame. “Dammit, Asriel,” they sigh out. “Everyone? Toriel? Asgore? Why?”

“It’s...it’s helped me,” he explains with a hesitant twirl of his wrist. “Had to convince myself that change was good, so I started charting it down to help me do that. Help me convince myself that things didn’t have to be in my hands for things to become better, you know? Something I took with me from Flowey, unfortunately. Rooted in his ways, so to speak.”

Oh.

Yeah, sounds like a good idea that he did.

“Forced me to interact with them as well. To put the feelings I had as Flowey behind me. Frisk was the one to force me in the beginning. I was like a plaster on them the first years. Mom, dad, yes, I was overwhelmed to be with them again, but there was a bit of hesitation to begin with. Pretty sure they could feel it as well. Frisk did everything in their power, and then some, to keep the smashed vase of a family together. But then...change.”

Aofil nods along. “Change.”

“Scary at first. It happened without me being in control of it.” Asriel flexes his hand while spinning it around. “Kinda like how I came to be Asriel again,” he says while glancing over to Aofil. “With you pretending to be Chara and all that. Don’t think I fully believed you not to be Chara even after you confessed to trying to trick me. I vaguely remember seeing a hint of Chara in Frisk as well, but that must’ve been because it was many resets ago.”

Yeah… That’s why…

“Then you took me up to the Surface and to your house and well...change.”

“Yeah.” Aofil nods along again, albeit more reservedly. “Change happened.”

“No good deed unpunished, as they say.”

“As they say.”

Asriel shakes his hand while blowing air through his lips. “First major change without my say in the matter, but in the moment I was too busy with, you know, realizing that I’m back again to notice.”

“I was there, yeah.”

“You were.”

A silence creeps up between the two. Not an uncomfortable silence, but a silence nonetheless. A break in the conversation to mellow things out before they become too deep. It’s already gotten way off topic, the discussion swerving harder than Papyrus’ car around any type of corner. Better to let it ease down than have it slam into anything expensive.

The bus makes a turn out onto the highway, picking up speed as it does. Asriel leans his head on the window after checking if his cellphone has spontaneously charged itself.

Wait a second…

“That’s a human made phone,” Aofil notices.

“Better games,” Asriel explains into the window, his jaw bouncing on the flat of his hand pushed up underneath his chin.

“Right.”

Fair enough of a reason.

Aofil checks behind them to see if the row is empty. Not only that, but almost the entire back of the bus is. Strange, considering it’s a Saturday morning. Would be at least half full, according to Aofil’s logic. It’s a direct bus to Ebott, after all. From what Aofil’s gathered the city’s been using the shadow of Ebott more as a figurative spotlight than a literal shadow, so that no one’s heading over on this fine early autumn morning is a bit of a mystery to them.

Unless…

That’s a question Aofil’s gonna have to save for when they reach Ebott.

The bus being direct to Ebott still means that it’ll take a bit, even a while, for it to reach the town. Aofil should catch some shuteye while they still can. They don’t imagine themselves getting a whole lot of sleep this weekend. Not if Asgore saying it directly to their face is anything to go by.

A full day of preparation, and then a full day of showtime. Full day’s preparation for Aofil, that is. Toriel and Asgore have probably been pulling strings and hoisting banners for the entire week now. Rest of the monsters too.

Even with lack of sleep looming over the horizon in the shape of Mt. Ebott, Aofil’s still looking forward to it all.

Gonna be tons of fun!

But first, a bit of a nap.

Just gonna lean back and...close...the...tired...eyes.

“Now arriving at Ebott.”

Aofil blinks themselves awake. Already there? They check their phone. Yeah, seems like it. At least they got some shuteye. 

“Ebott,” repeats the bus driver through the speaker system. “End station.”

Wow. These seats were a lot softer than Aofil imagined them to be. So fluffy, so…

Oh…

It’s Asriel’s shoulder.

Aofil throws their head upright! Damned be the risks of whiplash!

Did they slip down on it? They sure don’t remember falling asleep on it. Must’ve been a sharp turn that the driver did.

Yeah, must’ve been.

Let’s go with that.

“We there?” asks Asriel sleepily after a yawn that almost drains the entire bus of air, his dried up lips parting with an audible tear. Keep him busy enough to not notice Aofil hastily brushing the white fur out of their hair, which is probably for the best.

“Seems like that,” Aofil answers after making doubly sure that the only fur on their body is their own. “We were to head straight to the mountain, yes?”

“Yup.” Asriel tilts his head to his right side. He puts his hand on top of it and pushes it down carefully while breathing through his clenched teeth. “I feel like I’ve slept horribly on my left shoulder.”

Uh oh.

“You didn’t stretch properly yesterday?” Aofil asks to deflect.

Please, please, please, please, please.

“Could be.”

Phew!

“I’ll roll it out while we walk.” Asriel motions for Aofil to stand up. “Let’s go.”

He waves thanks to the bus driver as the two debark from it. 

“Don’t go elbowing any passerby now, Asriel,” Aofil asks as they take a step away from Asriel’s spinning shoulder and rotating arm. “Wouldn’t want the Prince to go around decking his people on a Saturday morning.”

“Sundays better for that?” he retorts while stepping in towards Aofil.

Aofil takes another step away. With Asriel’s arm spinning like it does it’s gonna be difficult to tug at his ear. 

The city’s just beginning to wake up. Not a lot of traffic, be it motorized, pedestrian, avian, bicycle, or whatever that one monster cartwheeling on her eight arms is doing. Again, the focus is not on Asriel, nor on Aofil. Like they’re just two ghosts of many, like that family gathering hovering towards the bakery. 

Which reminds Aofil.

“The balance I asked you about before, Asriel?” they shoot over before shrugging. “About feeling the Prince?”

Asriel’s arm stops at an awkward angle. He rolls it carefully into a more comfortable one before dragging a quick frown. “It’s fine, I guess. I’m not dreading it because of, well, actual dread.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m not jumping for joy since it’s mostly pretty boring what I’m assigned to. I’m not a king, but a prince, in a world where the two are pretty redundant. I’m a symbol. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“A pauper prince?”

“Just your regular monster that just happens to also wear a crown when on formal dinners.”

“Like Mettaton?”

Asriel waves back to a group of monsters sitting on their porch enjoying breakfast. “Exactly.”

“If I may, by the way.” Aofil waits for Asriel to turn his head back to them from the porch.

“Hm?” he says.

“How am I seen?”

Something Aofil’s always been wondering about, but never really found the place and reason to ask. Not with everything that’s been happening all around them and all that. Now that things have calmed down enough that even Asriel is comfortable with himself, maybe then it’s good enough of a time to finally scratch that itch.

“I usually do it with my eyes,” comes an answer and a small chuckle.

“Careful with letting your Toriel side take over, Asriel,” Aofil warns with a shaking finger. They tilt their head towards him. “You might start calling me your child. You’ve already had enough close calls in school with calling me-”

“Alright!” Asriel puts his finger up to his lips. “Before you have me implode out of relapsing embarrassment.” He begins to tap his lips as he thinks. “I’m guessing how you’re seen in the context of, what the public calls, the Royals?”

“You, Frisk, Toriel, Asgore, yes,” Aofil counts while spinning their hand.

“You helped the Royals with a lot during the first ascension, you were essential in helping me come back, but then you kinda dropped of the map. Both figuratively, and-”

“Don’t say it.”

Better if he doesn’t. It’ll ruin the mood.

“Right.” Asriel drags a breath through his teeth as he continues to think. “Then...” He exhales through his lips. “Not much, really, to be honest. No statue, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.

“Actually.” Asriel tilts his head inquisitively. “You appearing on Mettaton’s show expanded your public image more than anything that happened pre Monster City, come to think of it. Don’t think anyone actually knows it was you besides those that already knew you prior to that appearance.” 

Aofil feels...disappointed? 

Do they really? 

A little bit. Just a smidge. Not a lot, just a little bit.

“I see,” they acknowledge along with a tone and shrug that they try and make seem as nonchalant as possible, although they can themselves hear how chalant it really is.

“I’d image you’d be happy with hearing that you’ve not been in the spotlight outside of Mettaton’s show.” Asriel’s brow sinks as he cocks his head accusingly over to Aofil. “Have you done all of this for fame, Aofil?”

“No!” 

Nononononononononononononononono!

Fuck no.

Absolutely not!

“Just had to ask since your reaction wasn’t a nod and a thumbs up,” Asriel defends. “I can feel that it’s not what you actually meant, and not even with your soul. It just...”

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees with a thoughtful nod. “I’m a bit confused over my reaction as well. I’m really happy that I’m not gonna be hounded and tugged at by monsters asking me how Chara was before they fell, or how it feels to have a prince coursing through my soul. That I’m just an ordinary human with anything but ordinary friends is absolutely fine by me.” They push the flat of their hand against their chest to emphasize.

“One of which you’ll be doing your best impression of this weekend,” Asriel adds with a wink.

“How did you decide on the swapping, by the way?” Something else that’s been niggling at Aofil’s mind ever since they laid eyes on that list. “Mettaton also exclaimed that he was so happy that they had chosen me last time I met him. With ‘they’ I assume the list, right?”

“We first put all names in a pot and drew them, but Mettaton added like twenty slits of his own name, and then burst off when we began with you.”

“Began with me even though I wasn’t even asked to participate in the first place.” Aofil shakes their head. Their house is free range, and now their weekends are too! For the monster to do whatever with! 

Why do they love them so?

“MK’s idea, by the way,” Asriel informs with quick toss of his hand. “Proposed it to me last year. A wonder I put it forth to mom and dad at that time...”

Really? “MK?” Asriel scoffs a chuckle. “Did he get to make his own choice because of that?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m assuming you’ve already discussed whether or not Frisk will be comfortable with this whole ordeal?” Might be a bit late for Aofil to ask that, now that they’re quite literally right below Mt. Ebott, but better late than never.

“It’s fine,” Asriel dismisses with a quick raspberry. “We have a mattress for them to land on.”

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“And me dismissing it this casually is plenty enough evidence that I’m absolutely sure that it’ll be fine for Frisk.”

Aofil raises their finger...but he’s right. They lower it. “Fair enough.”

Asriel steps up on his toes for second before waving over a small shed. “Speaking of the anything but ordinary friend you’re about to do an impression of.”

The two round the shed to spot MK leaning against his limo. Mettaton’s limo to be precise, but he would’ve kicked the door opened with arms wide like the circumference of the Earth if he’d been in the car. “Yooo!” MK wraps his tail around the handle of the backseat door. “Hop on in!”

“Yoooo!” Aofil answers while throwing one arm forward.

Asriel turns away violently with both his hands pressed hard against his mouth.

Aofil does their best to remain unfazed by the cackling prince bent over with his hands failing spectacularly to hold in his laughter.

Their best proves not enough for this.

“Yooooooo!” MK cheers back while his jaw hangs on a hinge. “That sounds exactly like me, Aofil! Duude! Great!”

Aofil shoves a loudly snickering Asriel through the door with a harsh shove. “I’m playing a character!” they defend with an angry huff.

“Whatever you say, fellow kid,” Asriel replies in between fits of laughter.

MK closes the door behind Aofil and seats himself in the front seat. “Get ready, punks!” he shouts over his shoulder. “You’re about to have the ride of your life! Nahahahahga!”

Aofil barely has time to fasten their safety belt before the car takes off in a hurry. It screams out of the parking lot as it accelerates to Mt. Ebott.

Oh yes.

This weekend is gonna be fantastic!


	144. Cave explorer

“Ey! The sleepyheads are here! Perfect!”

Undyne leans over her shoulder with two fingers planted inside of her mouth. She takes a deep inhale, giving Asriel, Aofil, and MK just enough time to cover their ears. 

Even with their thumbs planted way too far inside their ears than is healthy, Aofil’s are still cut deeply by Undyne’s extremely loud whistle. Their skull resonates a good second or so after Undyne’s done.

“… … ……?”

Aofil removes their thumbs.

“Are. You. Ready?” Undyne repeats while smacking her palm into her other hand with each word. “Tomorrow is gonna be sweet! I can’t wait to get started with the preparations! Ngahahaha!”

“That’s sounds very unlike Alphys,” Aofil teases. “You sure you’ve done your rehearsals?”

“And you’re not wrapping yourself around my legs with your tail begging me for an autograph,” Undyne shoots back with a wink. “Have you done yours?”

Aofil tilts their head over to MK, who just shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

“You want me to wrap myself around your legs, Undyne?” Aofil asks with their finger towards Undyne. “Or do you want me to wrap myself around Undyne?” they ask while their finger move over to MK.

“Or!” Asriel intersects with a flamboyant twist of his wrist. “We save it for Frisk! How about that?”

Undyne waves that away with a chuckle. “We need to get into character, don’t we?”

“Which we’ll be doing after the preparations,” Asriel reminds. He waves towards the elevators at the far end of the parking cavern. “Let’s go, the Underground awaits.”

It’s really been a while since Aofil’s visited the Underground. For starters, the road up was paved, and out in the open. Signs and information for all to see and enjoy. Speed limit, angle of ascent, spaces left in the parking cavern. No need to sneak through half a jungle to get onto the old path to the plateau. Just drive up and enter through the well lit and well signed entrance carved through Mt. Ebott’s wall.

All are welcome to the Underground! 

Four lanes as well. Must be some really heavy traffic going up and down. The outskirts of Aofil’s old city isn’t as sleepily as it was when the monsters surfaced, that’s for certain. Although, looking around at this massive parking cavern, one would think as much, since there aren’t any darn cars here at all. 

Aofil drags a quick whistle, hearing its echo bounce around for what feels like a minute. They clap their palms together, and the ensuing echo has the entire empty cavern applauding vigorously.

“Big,” they state. A couple of seconds later the other side of the cavern agrees with the statement by repeating it.

“Yup,” Asriel answers. He waits for his echo to die down before cupping his hands in front of his mouth, opening it up just a little bit at his cheek. “Took a year or so for this to be built,” he informs while nodding around him. Him cupping his mouth seems to have lessened the echo. “A pretty easy first joint project between the humans and monsters. Not a lot that can go wrong with just digging a hole into a mountain that’s stood for millions of years.”

Aofil glances up at the stalactites littering the cavern ceiling. Large ones, like huge spikes just waiting for a slight rumble to knock them down.

“Considering,” Asriel adds with an exasperated sigh.

“I am,” Aofil replies. “And how do you mean by it being a joint project?”

“There was both monster and human excavation and reinforcement. A lot of pre planning was necessary for the build codes to come together between humans and monsters. Dad said that he felt that it was necessary. That we shouldn’t just go ahead with it just like that,” Asriel emphasizes with a snap of his fingers. “He had a lingering feeling it was for the best.”

Must’ve been the Above Lab rearing its ugly head. Seems it did for the better though. First time the memories actually brought with it something positive, even if it was fear. Not something Aofil would like to linger on though. Better to just change the subject.

“The cement pillars I’m guessing are human made,” Aofil hazards while patting one that they pass. After having to wait for a good while for their echo to die down, they also cup their hands over their mouth. Hearing themselves with a slight delay is messing with their head as they try to speak. “We humans do love our cement.”

“Yes, and no,” Asriel answers while shrugging lightly. Aofil can see his lips contract just the tiniest too. “The cement is human, yes, but the reinforcement is magical. Cement, from what I understand, doesn’t really do well with being this high on its own. Needs to be reinforced lest if collapses in on itself, or something.”

Aofil has to be careful not to fall over backwards as they lean back to estimate the height of the pillar. 

They estimate it to be somewhere between very and unbelievably tall.

More or less.

Might even be as tall as to tickle the top of the mountain from inside.

“Exactly,” Asriel comments as Aofil bends their neck back down while massaging it. He taps his claw against the edge of one of the pillars before cupping his mouth again. “You know how triangles are the strongest shape, Aofil?”

“Yeah...” Aofil nods once. “I taught you that.”

Undyne and MK share a joint and subtle chuckle that turns less subtle as it bounces around the humongous cavern like giggling popcorn. Asriel shoots over a raised eyebrow, which Undyne counters by waving it away while blowing her lips.

The echo reminds Aofil of a runaway motor. 

“Anyways,” Asriel continues. “Inside the pillars are magical reinforcements made of obsidian created with the help of Vulkins in the shape of triangles. Like the big building cranes, you know?”

Aofil knows.

“Don’t know how much dad had to argue with the engineers to convince them that it would be safe. Maybe he didn’t have to and it’s stronger than what you humans use normally.” Asriel shrugs one shoulder. “I wouldn’t know. I do know that it had the contractors a bit confused to have a Vulkin following them as they prepared the cement. After a week or so it mellowed out though, and progress really stepped up.”

“How did the monsters help with the excavation?” Undyne wonders. “I know I wasn’t invited to hollow out the mountain by punching it. Don’t tell me that you employed Aaron’s instead, Az.”

“We did, but not for the excavation. That I think was mostly humans, but with the help of the minerals from the Crystal Cavern.” Asriel slices a figure through the air. “Cut through the rock like hot butter, is what I heard. Some of it was used to fill out the cement too.”

“Seems to be holding,” Aofil adds while kicking the pillar with the side of their foot. 

Doesn’t fall.

Safe enough.

“It’s more the mortal stabbing by the spikes hanging from the roof that has me worried though,” Aofil feels that they have to voice, even if it’s muffled to not produce interrupting echo. “I know I’d be pissed if I came back from a day at MTT Hotel and found a large rocky cone taking up the passenger seat with the bodywork being bent like aluminum foil.”

“You’d be pissed coming back from a day at MTT Hotel, period!” Undyne shouts over. The cupping technique doesn’t really work for yells, the party finds out swiftly. 

As if Undyne would be annoyed at hearing more voices, even if it is just hers, talk smack about Mettaton.

She’s not, and her ensuing guffaw has the entire cavern roaring in laughter.

It takes a small while before she catches the looks of Aofil and Asriel. She shrugs. “What?”

The two glance in unison down at MK.

Undyne turns her head over to see MK’s brow lowered in deep thought.

“Oh...” falls out of her mouth. “I-I mean-” She cups her hands. “I mean, he’s… Mettaton is… a total waste of metal and magic.”

Asriel throws his arms up in annoyance. “MK’s right there, Undyne!” he chastises with a sigh. His annoyed spout has the cavern shaking to its foundation.

The pillars are still standing though.

Very important.

“I just...” Undyne clasps her hands together as if begging. “I’m sorry.” Her echo repeats her statement. “I can’t… Mettaton is just such a-”

“Rusted mess of nuts and bolts!” MK interrupts with hearty vigor. “Ngahahahahaha!” His echo joins in as he turns his head excitingly between his friends as his smile almost tears his cheeks apart. “Right?”

“Um...” Asriel’s not sure what to say. “Ok?”

MK’s smile fades into a perplexed frown, summoning countless furrowed wrinkles on his forehead. “Yooo! Dudes! I know that M is a total jerk, alright?” he asks while tilting his head forward as if he’s repeating what everyone should know by this point. “Thing is-” He puts the end of his tail over his mouth to contain his echo. “Thing is though, he pays really freaking well. You think he’d let the humans think that he’s gonna cheap out on his brand? I mean, he does, but only behind the scenes. I’m literally his driving force, so I’m front stage center, right in the spotlight.”

Asriel grumbles underneath his voice. Cursing himself not to have gotten his driving license earlier.

“I’m fine, dudes,” MK assures with a quick nod. “I’m the one hustling him. Don’t tell him that I told you though!”

Undyne scoffs a snorty laugh. “As if I would ever!”

“There’s that Alphys!” Aofil cheers to Undyne’s laugh, causing her to blush a red brighter than her hair. She drags her finger across her throat while flashing her teeth in response, but Aofil just blows a raspberry back in return. “As if you would ever lay a finger on a human that you’re trying to whip into shape.”

Had the pillar next to Undyne not been load bearing she’d thrown her fist through it.

Mission accomplished, according to Aofil. Now. “Anything else about the details of the construction of the parking lot that you apparently know, Asriel?”

Asriel’s not sure how to take that. “I know it because it’s gonna be my responsibility when dad passes the crown over to me. So yeah, I have a slight interest, so to speak.” He snaps a finger towards the lines denoting a parking space. “These are made with magic too. Knows when there’s a vehicle parked, and sends the information to the central database. It can sense if it’s a human or a monster too, which we’re trying to keep somewhat equal. As many human visitors as monster visitors is the goal, a good sign that enough monsters have embraced the Surface, and enough people have taken interest in the Underground. Dad has named it ‘Soul Equivalence’, although I’m pretty sure it was mom that came up with it.”

“What was it last month?” Undyne wonders over her shoulder as she throws her fist against the elevator pad to summon one. It lights up, signaling that one is on its the way. It doesn’t moan in pain or swear in anger from Undyne’s punch, which is probably for the best.

Aofil has had the most exposure to the monsters and even they are hesitant towards their everyday electronics giving them sass. Your everyday human tourist might be a bit put off by the elevator asking them what’s on today’s agenda and then giving traveling advice.

Although, come to think about it, it might not be too bad. Would certainly liven up the elevator ride better than the music.

Although although, socializing in an elevator?

Asriel tilts his hand side to side while inhaling through his clenched teeth. “Seventy to thirty when it comes to monsters to humans. Still got a ways to go, yes, but it’s closing in. Slow and steady, just how we want it.”

“Sounds good,” comments Aofil while letting their eyes wander the cavern again. It’s less filled with Mettaton commercials than they’d imagined it to be. Perhaps he’s busy enough littering the entirety of the Surface with his image.

Aofil would call him the ideal of monsters resurfacing had they not known everything else about him.

“Parking cavern,” informs the elevator as it opens up. “Welcome to the Underground, dear darlings.”

And speaking of Mettaton.

“How much did he ask for the use of his voice?” wonders Aofil as they shimmy in after MK into the brightly lit elevator. Less gaudy pink than they imagined it to be, though. Quite reserved, considering all the shapes and colors it could be. It looks just like a normal human sized one.

“I’d rather not say,” Asriel answers as he pushes the button labeled ‘New Home Ground Floor’.

“Numbers aren’t really Asgore’ cup of tea, ey?” Aofil snickers as they skim the rest of the surprisingly detailed, and less surprisingly, dry named buttons. “I’m assuming he’s the one that named them.”

“I think they’re fine,” voices MK with a shrug. “Tells you exactly where you’re going. I’d rather have that then guess where two and three is gonna take me.”

“Usually there’s a plaque or something similar with the description of each floor instead of the description being on the button,” Aofil explains. “At least for every elevator I’ve used before. If I’m not mistaken then the elevators in Hotland have a compact naming scheme.”

“Wasn’t dad that named them.” Asriel tilts his head over. “Simplest explanation.”

“Is it weird that I got lost in that elevator system once?” MK wonders with an embarrassed scoff. “I… I kinda wanted to go see R1 and R2 and ask them if they could take me to you, Undyne. I ended up on the vents for like an hour or so before I could find the right elevator.”

The elevator continues to move. It’s not that it moves slowly. Quite the opposite. Aofil can feel the bottom of their jeans hover from the speed. No idea to estimate from the sign above the doors denoting the floor. Before Aofil has time to fully read the floor it’s off to the next one.

Much smoother ride than the previous rides they had into the Underground. 

Motorized wheelbarrow carrying Alphys and almost dying the first time.

Falling down and almost dying the second time.

Dressing up as Chara and almost dying the third time.

Fourth time’s the charm, then.

Hopefully.

All they have to do is pretend to be MK. Shouldn’t be something that would bring with it mortal danger.

Again, hopefully.

Damn…

Thinking back on the first time, second, third. Disregarding all the almost fatal outcomes, however possible that is.

No, what suddenly hit Aofil, was their subtle tilt down of their neck as they thought back. Of when Frisk was a kid… 

The kid Aofil could carry on their shoulders. They’re an adult now! The little kiddo that saved the monsters is an adult now. Aofil’s always known that they were gone a long time, they always realized that, but putting it into context now. 

Just, strange…

Aofil is gonna prepare the eighteenth birthday of Frisk. They’re gonna star in it too.

Damn, it’s only hitting Aofil now how much that actually means. 

And MK too! He’s up to Aofil’s length now!

That evening all those years ago when Aofil played Asgore, and MK played Undyne.

Wow… 

Aofil scoffs as they wipe their eyes of moisture.

Wow, indeed.

“It’s funny,” Asriel says as he crosses his arms. “I don’t think I’ve actually come to terms with Frisk becoming an adult, to be honest.”

Heh…

So Aofil’s not the only one.

“Bit late to bring that up, Prince boy,” Undyne chuckles out while squeezing Asriel’s shoulder. “Have to admit though, I feel the same. It feels like just yesterday that I had my thoughts flooded with battle lust. To deliver a human soul to Asgore so that he can deliver us to freedom, and revenge upon the humans!”

She retracts her hand and closes it while meeting herself in the wall mirror. “Now though?” She chuckles again, widening her smile in an attempt to intimidate her reflection. “Now I’m doing my best.” She tilts her head over towards Aofil as her smile drains. “Some might call it fruitless, me included, but now I do my best to help the humans become stronger.”

Aofil flexes their arm.

Undyne shakes her head.

“Not even a damn seed, Aof.”

“Maybe you should do better then, Undyne?” they retort with a wink.

“I’m a monster. I only have so much determination!”

Aofil scoffs. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

“No!” Undyne shoots back with a raised finger. “That’s my explanation, not my excuse.”

“Semantics.”

“No.”

“Anyways,” interrupts Asriel with an exasperated blow through his lips. “As I was trying to say, Frisk being an adult sounds a bit weird in my ears. Me being one is fine, but Frisk? They’ve always acted like one, at least around me.”

“Maybe them reaching the point now makes you realize how much they’ve stretched themselves for it all these years?”

Three heads of varying skin, fur, and scales, turn towards MK.

“What?” he spills. “M’s ghost writers do their last drafting in the limo. I’ve heard a lot of profound things.”

Ghost writer? “Isn’t he one?” Aofil asks while looking to both Undyne and Asriel. “Could’ve sworn...”

Asriel nods. “Yeah, he is. Alphys will be dressing up as his robotic form though. It’s the one Frisk saw during their travels.”

“Gonna be interesting to see how she’ll manage getting her arms and legs blown off.”

Two scaly heads, one with fur, turn towards Aofil.

“What? It’s what happened, right?” they defend.

“You sounded very excited about it,” Asriel counters. “Something you want to share?”

“I’m assuming that you’ve thought about everything already,” Aofil retorts while tapping their skull with a finger. “I’m supposed to hang of a cliff edge without any arms, and you don’t see me quaking at the knees. Alright, I trust that you have planned a safety net or something.”

“Oh yeah...” Undyne rubs her chin as her eyes narrow in thought. “That happened...”

Aofil points a very stern finger over to Undyne. “Don’t fucking do this to me now, Undyne.” They shake it to emphasize. “You absolutely know about it. You were there.”

She returns a sinister grin along with a pair of very bouncy eyebrows.

“How would Dr. Alphys turn into a ghost, by the way?” wonders MK while his head cocks to the side. “Or would she just use Radentim?”

Aofil hazards “Probably Radentim. Don’t think she’d be so uppity about turning into a ghost. Maybe not as not uppity as Frisk or I would, since human ghosts are...dead, but still.” 

“Her turning into a ghost and possessing the Mew Mew doll later wouldn’t be...bad.”

Again three heads of skin, fur, and scales, turn around as if mounted on shoulders of rugged stone, but this time over to Undyne, who’s eye widen in realization. The one underneath her eye patch almost peeks itself visible.

“Did I say that out loud?”

Aofil nods. “You did.”

The elevator stops, shortly followed by a loud ding, opening the doors.

“Have a marvelous stay at the Underground, darlings!” Mettaton’s voice shouts through the speakers, prompting Undyne to wrap her arms around the her fellow elevator passengers, dragging them along with her as she charges out of the elevator.

After pushing the trio far enough away to not have a chance to interrupt her, Undyne then wheels around and slams her open palm onto the floor panel. The elevator door closes with haste, and she turns back around to the stumbling mess of skin, fur, and scales. “That topic is now going up and away from us so we’re no longer gonna talk about it!”

She dusts off her hands off any mention of whatever it might be that she said. Who knows? Not here! Nor, MK, Aofil, or Asriel!

Not anyone at all!

“Not a single hearing in vicinity!”

“I heard.”

Undyne’s face sinks into a horrified expression. 

“I’ve always known about you and Dr. Alphys’…interest in things anime, Undy sweetie.”

She turns her head around. Eyes glaring at the elevator.

The numbers on the display stop, morphing into the visage of Mettaton. He smiles as he looks down. “But oh my, Undy. Take pride in being one of the few monsters that can actually surprise me.”

Why the hell is Mettaton an elevator?

“I can tell by the looks on your faces that the good doctor forgot to tell you that I was on elevator duty this morning to make sure no one else reached the Underground.” The doors of a neighbor elevator open up, revealing Mettaton striking a pose. He rolls out with his arms stretched wide. “I’ll inform the rest that you darling have arrived.”

He leans in towards Undyne, ignoring completely the crackling spear violently forming in her hand. “Give me a call later about Mew Mew,” he whispers loudly enough to make sure that the others hear. “I might be able to help the two of you out.”

Undyne doesn’t strike.

Now that’s very interesting.

With swagger and confidence he saunters over to MK, Asriel, and Aofil, fully aware that he now has Undyne in the palm of his hand. “I’m sure you have a few question about the CORE.”

Not...really. “No,” Aofil answers.

“Oh!” Mettaton quells a chuckle. “Then you haven’t turned around.”

Been difficult to with the whole scene that’s just happened, but fair enough. Aofil can turn...around…

What the...

“Perfect!” Mettaton cheers as he puts an arm around Aofil’s stunned neck. “Now you have questions.”


	145. Narrow streets of cobblestone

“Cake?”

“Very observant of you, Aofil.”

They can’t believe their eyes…

They refuse to!

“The entire CORE? Covered in cake?”

“You’re repeating yourself, sweetie.”

“How is it not falling apart?”

“You’re questioning your spider spouse’s baking, Aof dear?” Mettaton extends his arm behind Aofil’s neck, chafing it with the seams of his extending metallic segments. “You of all humans not assuming magic to begin with?”

“My what?” Aofil’s eyes open up as they realize. “Oh… Muffet!”

“So how are you planning for the webbing, I mean wedding?”

Aofil cocks their head over to Mettaton, his large boxy panels lighting up in the shape of a heart. “We’re not.” They lift up Mettaton’s arm from their shoulder and hands it back to him. “We’re not even dating.”

“Oh but sure you are-”

“No, we’re not.”

“But, Aofy deary,” pleads Mettaton through a voice that’s as meticulously constructed as his body is. “I’ve come up with such wonderful designs that would complement the two of you so perfectly.” He swipes his hand up and down Aofil’s body before twirling his fingers into a fist shivering with excitement. “You would look so great taking Muffet as your loving wife, her standing there next to you in a dress made out of silk smoother than what she could ever produce herself.”

Mettaton leans in towards Aofil with his hand placed like a napkin to cover a table on next to his face panel. Aofil leans back as much as he leans in. “If you could ever believe it.”

“I-”

“The dark purple, contrasting with the fair magenta of her skin, the dark of her dress representing the Underground of her birth, and the fair of her skin representing the Surface that she is living now. The duality of her soul, which she’s to give to you.”

Mettaton clenches his fist at his chest, or where it would be if he had one. “I call it.” He swipes the air in front of him, like he’s drawing a rainbow.

“Soul dichromatism,” Mettaton reveals with pride.

Doesn’t sound to bad, to be honest. Quite good, actually.

Mettaton nods at Aofil’s impressed shrug. “It’s very high quality and incredibly popular.”

“I’ve no doubt about that.”

Surprisingly sincere, Aofil catches themselves to be. For a good reason though.

It’s a damn good name.

Aofil would buy that for a handful of G.

“Strands expertly weaved gleaming like a million precious gemstone as she squirms in excitement of her new life,” Mettaton continues after a quick squat and lean into Aofil. “The fabric follows her form like static with each minute movement she does. Her being the absolute positive, of course. You notice the subtle texture reminiscent of Hotland’s lava, as the light reflects as she moves the lava flows up her curves, caressing her every part as if gently massaging. Her many arms covered in ribbons cut from her dress, woven with spider web pattern to hold them together lest they fall off. Although, you would like that, wouldn’t you, Aofy deary?”

Aofil glances over to the rest of their friends barely holding together as they fight to keep their laughter contained.

Aofil’s not gonna get any help from them anytime soon.

“Her shoulders and collar exposed,” Mettaton continues as he drags Aofil closer to him. “Of her dress, yes, but not of her necklace that cuddles her upper torso and neck. Strings of wonder, transparent like those of her own making, holding, with strength like hers would have, a large and beautifully cut stone in the shape of the Delta Rune. A new collection, with the help of humans, from the Crystal Cavern. Hand, claw, and pincer picked by the best and most trustworthy of gemenologists.”

“I don’t think that’s a real-”

“Complementing her eyes as she stares longingly into yours, Aofil!” Mettaton exhales wishfully. He turns his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he places the back of his hand up against his forehead. Foreface. Forebox. Foretop-of-the-front-of-his-shape. What drama!

Melodrama, that is.

“Her eyelashes swaying like wheat during a summer’s warm and comforting breeze as she blinks with fluster. Oh, how you’re able to stand up with the hurricane of a fanning she does as she blinks is something we’ll ever know, Aofil!”

And there it is.

“Each emphasized breath she takes, lifting up her necklace shaped like the symbol of the monster royalty, pulsating red, like your soul, which you’re about to promise her.”

The things, all the things that Mettaton’s describing.

Doesn’t sound too bad, actually. Not to Aofil’s ears. 

Wait...

They shakes their head harshly.

Dammit! That’s what Mettaton’s trying to wriggle out of them! 

Just enjoy the imagery, nothing else.

“One of her hands comes up timidly, brushing away a small part of hair behind her ear. Her pigtails, held together by stripes of magical cloth that sway even when there’s no wind. She giggles, her exposed downward fangs pushing bashfully against her chin, pushing her skin in every so slightly. Like dimples, but on her chin.”

Quite the imagery to enjoy, Aofil’s not gonna lie about that.

“A question has her freezing, shyly startled, as it were, even though the question wasn’t addressed to her.” Mettaton turns his head back towards Aofil, the heart shape on his panels now beaming like stars. But to you, Aofil.”

Is that so?

“You whisper that you do, that you accept her to be your soul mate.”

Oh for…

Soul mate?

Really?

“Her slim lips parting into a faithful smile, again glistening from the new MTT Lip Care collection, inspired by the glistening from the snow in Snowdin. Where I’ve opened up a new ski resort. Do come visit, Aofil.”

“Maybe.”

“The same question is asked to her, if she would take you to be her loving-”

“Quick question, Met. Can I call you Met?”

A light shuts off for just a second on Mettaton’s face before relighting.

Perfect.

Met it is!

“How much have you based the future of your collection on the relationship between Muffet and I? Pray tell,” Aofil pries with a plastered smile. “I’m awfully curious.”

“I figured you’d be,” Mettaton answers with a quick snap of his fingers, a fountain pen shooting out of his finger as he does.

Aofil pushes it back and also smacks close Mettaton’s stomach flap with their other hand before it has time to open. “We’re celebrating Frisk this weekend now, Met.” They close shut Mettaton’s finger with a click. “Keep that in mind, please.”

They beckon for the snickering group of really helpful friends to follow them as Aofil heads through the seemingly abandoned city of New Home.

“But how could I when I have these wonderful designs to discuss with you?” Mettaton asks in a fabricated panic as he hurries along afterwards.

“There’s no discussing with you, Met,” Aofil scoffs over their shoulder. “And I’m not in the mood to sign any contracts.”

“Muffet said she’d sign if you did,” Mettaton teases as his face panels light up.

Oh that’s gonna backfire immediately. “Then I guess that she’s not gonna sign either.” Walked right into that one, Mettaton! Or rolled, if you want to be technical about it.

“Nice!” cheers Undyne with a hard pat on Aofil’s back. “Stand your ground against this rolling roomba, Aofil! Don’t let him poison your mind.”

“Didn’t M just say something about Alphys and Mew Me-” is all MK manages to get out of him before Undyne wraps her arm around his neck and mouth, muffling his voice.

“Don’t want no echo!” she defends with a shout. Her quick and overly eager smile betrays her intentions though, as well as the ensuing echo from her shout.

The buildings of which the echo bounce from are quite gray. More gray than what Aofil could see from that bridge connecting to Asgore’s house last time they went through the Underground. While the architecture reminds them of being human, there are some oddities that betray the fact that they’re monster built.

For instance, the differently shaped methods of ingress. Doors, some round, some square, some isosceles, for some strange reason. Varying in sizes, from Aofil’s foot not being able to fit in a million years, to them being able to slink underneath the gap between the door’s bottom and the frame no problem.

Not standing upright, of course, but crawling under.

The former would be absurd.

And yes, absurd.

Even with Aofil’s experience.

The emptiness of it all too. Deafening silence, with only the different sounding footsteps and Mettaton’s wheel to occupy the ears. There’s evidence of the street the group are walking, and rolling, on being quite busy any other normal day, even if it’s recently been cleaned thoroughly. The cobblestone road has grooves on either side.

Not for waste like the old human cobblestone streets, but grooves made from weight. Worn from usage.

“It’s pretty empty here,” Aofil voices, it traveling around many corners before dying down. It’s like they’re talking inside a tin can. “But there lived many monsters here before, correct?”

“Many have moved to the Surface by now,” Asriel explains while pointing his thumb up. “We built a city there, remember? You should, Aof, since you live in it.”

Snark isn’t a favorable trait from a prince. Less so from a pupil to a teacher. 

Is Aofil that petty?

Maybe, depends on what Asriel says next.

“We do have history of abandoning Underground cities,” Undyne adds while throwing her thumb behind her shoulder. “The Ruins wasn’t always The Ruins, y’know? Was home to us before we moved to New Home, or Gray Galore, as it was also knows as.”

An electronic sigh whisks its way around the group.

They all turn to Mettaton.

“Gray Galore...” he repeats to himself. “Even after all my effort to bring some color back to the monsters, it’s still remembered as such.”

Aofil looks to the non robotic monsters for explanation, but they all shrug their shoulders, with brows furrowed just as perplexed as theirs are. Even MK has his furrowed like two malfunctioning awnings.

“So all along you had a noble cause to your pink extravaganza, Mettaton?” Aofil pries curiously, yet still hesitantly. It smells too much like one of his schemes for Aofil to be sympathetic at the current moment.

“The Underground was a pretty gray place as I grew up,” Mettaton begins as he spins slowly on his wheel with his arm extended.

“Waterfall is pretty blue,” Undyne retorts with a snicker. “Hotland’s pretty red. Snowdin is white. The Ruins is purple. I can go on, and I probably should, but-”

“Mew Mew, Undy.”

Undyne’s mouth clamps shut.

Aofil can only stare in bewilderment. They know that Alphys and Undyne enjoy Mew Mew, Aofil does as well, but to this extent? 

And Undyne of all people clamping shut in the presence of Mettaton is unheard of, unimaginable to Aofil.

But this is no loud imagination.

It’s muted reality.

“The Underground, especially after the death of Chara, was a very gray place. Dark gray, as close as you can until it turns black,” Mettaton continues as he rolls up to a nearby building which he puts his hand on. “I wanted to give some color back to the monsters life. Something that wasn’t the bright lights of the human souls. Something from us monsters that we could laugh at, awe at, inspire at, feel as if all of our hearts were beating as one.”

“That was my thing,” Undyne mumbles underneath her breath as her wrist begins twisting.

“It was mere a coincidence befit to be called magical that I met Alphee all those wonderful years ago. As if I could ever have done what I did without her help. Her magic and-”

Mettaton crashes hard against the wall as MK wheels his tail around to hit him in the back of his head.

“You better now, M?”

Small pieces off wall fall from Mettaton’s box form as he pulls his face out of the wall. The indentation is almost a perfect mirroring of him, and he studies it inquisitively before nodding to himself. “I’ll send the tenants a cease and desist letter for improper use of my likeness once Frisk’s birthday is over.”

MK drags some sweat off his forehead with his tail.

Guess it means that all of that before was just a malfunction. Or maybe the truth managed to slink out of Mettaton.

Either way, should probably get moving again.

“Anything that’s happened here that’s been collaborated between humans and monsters, Asriel?” Aofil asks over the heads of Undyne and MK. “How deep does the human influence go, so to speak?”

“Certainly gonna be some fantastic clothing and jewelry if you’d sign the contract, my sweetie human,” allures Mettaton with a voice that worms itself inside Aofil.

Just ignore him.

Just ignore him…

“The CORE has been modified with the help of some human engineers to produce normal electricity as well as magical electricity. The matter of efficiency is still being worked on, but it’s making progress. I’m not gonna pretend to know enough to go into detail, because some of those equations that the engineers drew on that whiteboard during their presentation looked more like a short story than math.”

Asriel blows his lips as his eyes focus on a distant horizon filled with variables and integrals.

“You say that you humans don’t know magic, but what those engineers wrote...” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Gonna have something else more powerful than determination to understand.”

“I’m sure Alphys would have no problem with that!” cheers Undyne. “She’s the smartest there is!”

“She has some fingers in the conversion, yes,” informs Asriel with an open hand before morphing it into a two fingered point right at an empty intersection. It bears a striking semblance to one in the eldest part of Aofil’s old town. The sewer hubs have the Delta Rune carved into it rather than Mt. Ebott though, which might be enough to circumvent copyright.

Or not.

They’ll have to ask their mom about it later.

“How many fingers?” pries Undyne.

“Two.”

“And what does that mean?” wonders MK.

Asriel shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s more than one finger though considering her involvement.”

Fair enough.

The group makes another right at a small marketplace. Seems to be selling spices of sorts. Sure smells like it. Not a lot that Aofil recognizes though, perhaps they’re monster spices.

“Smells good, right Aof?” comments Undyne with a friendly nudge at Aofil side, causing them to snort as they were sampling the air.

Aofil pushes back on Undyne’s shoulder as she starts grinning. “If you’d let me smell in peace, yeah.”

“It’s usually fully packed here with both private and business interest,” explains Asriel while motioning his arm across the marketplace. “Hybrid recipes are getting really popular. The vast variety of Surface ingredients combined with the Underground’s spices. Mom’s been experimenting a lot herself, for better...and worse.”

“Snails?” Aofil guesses.

“Snails,” Asriel answers. “She’s getting a bit too brave with the combinations, even for my taste.”

“Can’t imagine Frisk’s.”

“Trials never end for them, do they?”

“You’re not doing them any favor with all the homework you’re piling on, Aofil.”

Oh for…

“I’m very fair in my amount of homework, Asriel,” Aofil retorts a bit too harshly than they wanted. No, actually. No, it’s just as harshly as they wanted it to be. They are very fair with their given homework. It’s to prepare them for university studies. And if not, then for the work life. 

Asriel, Frisk, MK, all of them should be thanking Aofil for their fairness akin to the color of their skin.

The fairest there is!

“Why are you waving your arm like you’ve conducting, Aofil?”

Were they?

Aofil glances up at their arm raised high in pride and finger erected even prouder. Their head turns to Undyne with her perplexed hand and narrowed eye towards Aofil’s hand. Aofil lowers their hand to their mouth, which they cough once into.

“Just stretching.”

“...Alright.”

Undyne shakes her head while blowing her lips.

“Where are we heading, by the way?” MK voices.

Good question, actually. Aofil has no idea. They’ve never been in New Home, and the signage tells them less than nothing about their location except that they’re down in the Underground. The constant gray is starting to get to them, even with MTT Hotel looming somewhere in the distance, lit up as always.

Alright, so maybe Aofil has a sliver of a clue where they are, but not enough to deduce where exactly the group is heading.

“The Lab.”

Guess the group’s heading to-

Wait…

“The Lab?” Aofil repeats as a baffled question. “Wasn’t that shut down?”

“I pushed the button that filled the lower part with cement myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Asriel explains with a slow twirl of his wrist. “We’re gonna have it as our base of operations, with all the cameras to monitor Frisk’s progress.”

“The more things change the more they stay the same, ey?” Aofil replies with a slight tilt of their head.

“You could put it like that if you want to, yes. I’d rather think of it as us wanting to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible for Frisk,” Asriel sends back with a smile and a nod. “Shows how much we’ve put it all behind us too, don’t you think?”

He’s got a point there. Of all people to get over True Lab, Asriel is a good indication that it’s behind the rest too. 

Other one being Alphys, Aofil supposes. 

What Aofil did when they asked her to test their curse might’ve set her back a bit, but with friends and family around her, maybe she’s gotten over it too.

Frisk is a pretty good motivator in the eyes of the monsters, so maybe this birthday is as much for the monsters as it is for Frisk.

Aofil’s fine with that.

Anything to help move forward is always appreciated. 

And hey, they get to see Toriel take a crack at acting as them, which is gonna be all kinds of hilarious.

Hopefully she wears a helmet.

Not far along afterwards, the familiar red glow of Hotland begins to peek from behind the gray houses. Careful winds of warm air start circulating, bringing a comforting breeze that has Aofil opening their sweatshirt. Not many steps left until they have to take it off completely and curse themselves for putting on pants.

As the elevator hums, which is not speaking, much to the delight of everyone using it, with the slight exception of Mettaton, the heat increases. Aofil worms their arms out of their sweatshirt, and fold it up over their shoulder. 

“You brought some water, Undyne?” they ask as they see sweat begin to pour down her forehead. “Don’t want you fainting.”

“I’ve gotten used to being dry with the sun shining upon me for years now, Aof,” she replies with an eager grin diverting the streams of sweat to her cheeks. “I can probably take a swim in the lava if I wanted to.”

That’s a complete and utter lie.

But Aofil gets the gist of it.

The elevator doors open to reveal the blazing red and orange glow of Hotland casting long shadows on the cavern roof. The lava flowing like, well…, lava. Slow and steady, like thick cake batter.

And speaking of that…

The CORE, in all its glazed glory, standing proud and tall.

Covered completely in cake.

Must’ve been cooked by the warmth of Hotland.

Muffet’s been busy. She must’ve taken with her all of the spiders in the entire country to help her finish this. Would also explain why there was such an influx of mosquitoes the week Aofil took care of Muffin. 

Well, not really an influx for Aofil per say since Muffin ate them all with vigor and loud burps.

But for others.

“Ah, there you are!” greets Alphys with a welcoming smile and wave. “Undyne, could you help me with some boxes, please?” She motions over to a large amount of boxes with an embarrassed claw. “T-the costumes and props.”

Undyne’s face lights up brighter than the hottest part of Hotland. “Ngahahaha! Awesome! Asriel, give me a hand here, we’ll get these done in no time!”

The ceiling high stack of boxes is swiftly dismantled as Asriel and Undyne take turns loading each other’s arms. MK helps stabilize the leaning towers of carrying with some of his conjured magic as Undyne and Asriel carefully bend themselves over to get their piles out the opposite door to a blue-hooded figure singing to itself.

“I have to return to my elevating position,” Mettaton says as he puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder. He begins to slowly turn it towards the escalator to the second floor. “Head upstairs and help out a bit, would you?”

He winks with a panel on his face before rolling back out to Hotland with a satisfied whistle.

Well, the boxes seem to have enough people on it, with Alphys doing inventory at the end, and the rest carrying them over.

Might as well head upstairs then. Maybe Toriel or Asgore are in need of assistance.

“Ahuhuhuhu~” comes a pleased giggle as Aofil reaches halfway up the escalator.

That’s not Toriel nor Asgore.

It’s…

…

“Wow...”

Muffet turns her head over her shoulder, the large bell in her pigtail rattling as she does.

“I can’t say I expected you here, Muffet,” Aofil feels the need to say. “Especially not like...”

Muffet sways her pink frilly dress back and forth as she tugs a flustered smile. “Like Mew Mew?” A feline tail peeks over her shoulder in the shape of a question mark, mirroring Aofil’s posture. “Fuhuhuhuhu~”

“I can’t recall Frisk telling me that they ran into a Mew Mew monster,” Aofil says out loud, albeit quieter than how they think of it. “Although, it was some years ago.”

Still plenty audible for Muffet though, who taps a replica of Mew Mew’s wand in her palm as she cocks her head thoughtfully. “From what I understood, the King and Queen found a possessed Mew Mew doll which was in hiding in Snowdin. Don’t know how Frisk missed it, to be honest, it was quite loud and bombastic. Was just recently when they found it.”

“And you’re wearing the costume it had?” Aofil asks with an eye narrowed with the opposite brow raised.

Muffet twirls around with her hands on the edges of the dress. “They said it would fit me, just had to cut out a few more holes for my hands, ahuhu~”

Fair enough. It’s not out of order for the rest of the swaps planned, so why not?

“Gonna be fun to see what you do, Muffet,” Aofil offers with a smile. Genuinely so, to boot.

Muffet’s tail whips downwards as she looks to the side. “Aofil, what do you think-”

“Yoo!” is shouted from downstairs.

“That’s my line, Undyne!” Aofil shouts back. “Give it more Alphys!”

An even louder exasperated snort is sent back up.

“There we go!” Aofil cheers. “Good acting!”

“No, that was Alphys Alphys!” Undyne replies.

A wave of embarrassment, hotter than anything Hotland could ever produce, oozes up the escalator. 

Yup, it was Alphys Alphys.

“Anyways, come down now, we’re gonna start with the planning!”

Aofil throws their thumb up without thinking that Undyne has no way of seeing it. “We’re on our way!”

They return their attention to Muffet. “You were saying?”

“Oh...” Muffet shakes her head. “Nothing, ahuhu~ I’ll just switch out of my costume and then I’ll be down there.”

Aofil nods. “Alright, good.” They step onto the downwards escalator.

“Yeah...good.”


	146. More invited

“If everyone could please take their seats.”

A myriad of various squeaks fill the large main room of the Lab as bodies of various weights seat themselves on the two rows of chairs in front of the large projector cloth being slowly lowered behind Toriel.

She smiles as her audience gets into position. “Everyone comfortable?”

“Psst, Aof,” whispers Undyne none too subtly as she taps Aofil on their shoulder. Aofil tilts their head over. “Toriel’s really getting into the role of you by asking obvious questions.”

She snickers, pleased with herself.

Toriel clears her throat loudly, her eyes peering hard on Undyne, forcing her to cower in her chair.

“That too,” Aofil whispers back.

They snicker, pleased with themselves.

“Tomorrow we’ll be celebrating the eighteenth birthday of Frisk, and first of I would like to thank you all for participating. A special thanks goes to MK for suggesting the idea!” Toriel tucks her pointer stick underneath her arm to free her hands up for applauding MK.

The large room is quickly filled with a symphony of differently sounding claps as the two rows of chairs join Toriel in applauding MK. Skin, scale, fur, metal, bone, all thanking MK for his wonderful idea!

His cheeks light bright red as his tail bends underneath his chair. “I...I just thought it was a good idea,” he says through an embarrassed laugh.

“Just like you,” Aofil whispers to Undyne. Although, Alphys would probably be closer. Undyne reacts with a scowl though, which was all Aofil wanted out of their comment.

“It is a wonderful idea, MK,” Toriel assures with a warm smile. “Asgore, Asriel, and I couldn’t be happier that you put forth the idea. Right, boys?”

Asgore and Asriel nod, exactly the same. It brings a chuckle to Aofil how similar their sheepish nodding are as they agree with Toriel immediately without having time to think.

“It’ll be a lifetime memory for all of us, but especially for Frisk. So from the bottom of our souls.” Toriel takes a deep bow. “Thank you, MK.”

Asriel and Asgore scramble out of their chairs and bow the same to MK.

Wow, Toriel can work the two of them like a pair of yo-yos. 

MK looks quite confused being surrounded on both flanks by the King and the Prince bowing deeply.

“I...uhh...”

Poor kid.

But Aofil can’t stop grinning like an idiot at the whole ordeal.

If the planning can bring this amount of hilarity they can’t wait to see what tomorrow will have in store!

Asriel and Asgore sit back down again, their chairs squeaking loudly as they do.

Toriel moves her head over to Muffet. “I’d also like to extend another special thanks to the wonderful Muffet for her diligent work on the CORE Cake.”

Oh for…

Seriously?

CORE Cake?

Asgore’s naming schemes strike again, with all its dryness. Perhaps even drier than the mix was before Muffet added the wet ingredients.

The room erupts in another applaud towards Muffet, it being a bit quieter than MK’s as Muffet’s six arms now sit carefully on her legs and stomach instead of joining in the applause.

“Ahuhuhu~” she giggles. “Hopefully it’ll be enough to go around.”

“that’s really taking the cake.”

Muffet’s joyful smile drains into a half disgusted frown at Sans’ quip. Her fangs press down on her chin, creating two small dimples that…

Mettaton leans into Aofil’s view, wiggling the top lights of his face panel.

Aofil returns a furrowed brow and averts their eyes.

The small and soft dents still linger in their mind though…

“Never in my entire life have I seen baking as efficient and as diligent as Muffet did during her week spent creating the cake. Masterfully made, and we’re honored to have her here with us to celebrate.”

Another round of applause has Muffet’s smile reigniting. The pressure of her fangs against her chin softens, making her dimples faint, yet still…

“Webbing, Aof?”

Their brow furrows harder, but Mettaton keeps his lightbrows raised high.

“You know where to find me,” he says before returning his focus forward to Toriel.

Aofil does too, although their focus is a bit split, to be honest.

“And finally I’d like to thank the wonderful Mettaton for supplying the costumes and props to be used for the festivities!”

He stands up and twirls his hand in front of him before bowing to the clapping. It’s out of obligation though, not really roaring enthusiasm as with the others.

“We at MTT Costumes are pleased to have-”

“We’ll be trying on the costumes at the end of the day after the preparations and prop placements,” Toriel interrupts as nonchalantly as she can, turning her head away from Mettaton and towards the projector mounted at the back of the room.

“Asriel, child?” she asks while motioning friendly for her son to turn on the projector. 

“I got it,” he answers as he pushes the chair back and stands up. After a few quick taps on the backside of the old projector it spins to life with the sound of a dying diesel engine. Aofil has to turn around to make sure that it’s not catching fire, it sounds so loud.

After a few seconds the deafening fan calms down, albeit just a bit, and the room is filled with a voluminous white light that reflects hard on the already white surfaces of the Lab.

Aofil has to narrow their eyes as to not go blind, and they bet the same is for everyone else if the myriad of pained groans drown out the sound of the projector fan.

Especially Muffet with her five eyes shut closed. Five calm eyes that blinked flustered when she received her applause, with her lashes moving like wheat...during…

Aofil shakes their head.

Focus.

“Asriel, dear,” Toriel asks while holding her hand over her eyes. “Would you kindly turn down the brightness a bit?”

Like a cloud passing by the sun, the room’s color sinks into a low-key gray. Still a lot of purple left in Aofil’s vision from the bright white just a moment ago though.

Dark purple, not fair purple as the skin of Muf-

Focus!

Toriel allows the room a couple of seconds to adjust their vision. She has to rub her own eyes a bit and blink a few times before her warm smile returns to her lips. “Thank you, dear,” she sends over to Asriel who extends his thumb as his other hand massages his eyelids.

“IT’S LIKE WE STEPPED OUT OF THE UNDERGROUND FOR THE FIRST TIME ALL OVER AGAIN!” Papyrus informs before waving his hand up and down in front of his face. “WOWIE! I SEE JUST AS LITTLE AS I DID BACK THEN!”

“Didn’t you wowie over how beautiful it looked back then?” Undyne asks as she turns her perplexed head around.

“I LIKE PURPLE, AND THERE WAS A LOT OF PURPLE IN MY VISION WHEN I FIRST STEPPED OUT ONTO THE SURFACE!”

Nothing Undyne can say against that, and she admits that with a huff and a small shake of her head.

“I picked the wrong time to use contacts,” laments Alphys as she pushes her hands against her face. “Should’ve waited until later...”

“Yes, forgive me,” Toriel apologizes with a small bow of her head. “I brought the projector with me from the school. From the classroom with the view of the field.”

She never did like closing those curtains during her lessons. Too bad everyone else had to suffer for her forgetting that the projector doesn’t need to be as bright in a closed off room as it has to be with the midday sun streaming in through large and uncovered windows.

The purple dots have calmed down enough for Aofil to see properly now, and judging by the simmering down of uncomfortable shuffling the same seems to be true for the monsters as well.

Toriel takes the pointer stick from her armpit and into the palm of her hand. She taps it twice on the projector cloth, and Asriel pushes a button on the projector to switch it over to the first slide. Why Toriel isn’t using the corresponding remote is a bit of a mystery to Aofil.

Oh…wait...

That remote is inside Aofil’s classroom desk since they accidentally took the one meant for their own classroom’s projector with them home accidentally a couple of days ago.

Whoops!

“Now that introductions are in place,” Toriel begins as an overview map of the Underground fades into view. “I would like to say a few word as to why we decided to celebrate Frisk like this.”

Her eyes linger for a second on Aofil before glossing over the rest of the monsters.

“Their first travel through the Underground, as I’m sure you’re all deeply familiar with, and the burden that’s been put on them during their journey is, despite the monumental event it led to, a tragedy. The gauntlets they had to suffer.”

The room turns cold, like it’s suddenly been moved to Snowdin.

“We’ve done our best in putting it behind us, Frisk included, and the less that is said about that bleak chapter of our history, the better. However,” Toriel says as she drags a steadying breath through her nose. “It is because of that tragedy that we considered this. We have a chance to give Frisk catharsis for their past, and catharsis for us as well. If we can’t forget our memories, we can at least shine it under e new light, a more light hearted light, where there’s no danger, only friends acting like friends. This is as much a celebration of us moving on further than we could ever expect to as it is Frisk’s eighteenth birthday.”

“Yeah!” cheers Undyne with her arms stretched high. “Well done us!”

She puts her hands together in a clap, and less than a beat afterwards, the rest again begin applauding.

Applauding each other, applauding themselves.

Good call from Undyne, actually. Aofil gets that Toriel wants it thoughtful, that she wants it to be a somber and reflective moment. However, like her however, that time is behind us. It won’t be forgotten, but we shouldn’t remind it further. Change the context, not the memories. Catharsis is what this is for, so catharsis is what’s to be focused on.

And applauding away the worry is the best of beginnings to the catharsis filled romp tomorrow.

Aofil joins in the clapping.

They’ve done stuff too.

Toriel looks a bit relieved over Undyne’s cheer. Maybe she realized too that she should work what she preached after seeing the others nod and smile at each other.

A family with the darkest shadow stretching far behind them, but a family nonetheless. The ones Frisk has saved, and the kid that’s reminded the monsters to keep their face against the warmth of the sun instead of the cold shadow behind.

Oh boy…

Aofil better drag this tear away before anyone else notices.

Too late.

Toriel coughs a touched chuckle as Aofil catches her catching them. She puts her hand on her chest as the rest of the monsters continue congratulating their others.

“Thank you,” she mouths.

“You too,” Aofil mouths back.

She nods, and claps loudly three times in rapid succession to get back the attention. “Let us continue,” she says as she wields her pointer stick again. “River Person is currently on course around the Underground to deposit the props at their corresponding locations. This will also include the remote controlled puppets.”

Puppets?

Aofil puts up their hand.

“Yes, Aofil?” Toriel asks.

“Puppets?”

Her brow furrows. “You don’t know?”

“It was on the paper I gave you,” Asriel informs. “You didn’t read it?”

Yes, Aofil did. They have it with them in their backpack. See, it’s…

Oh…

There’s text on the other side of the paper too…

Their cheeks begin to blossom out of embarrassment.

“G...Guess I missed it,” they chuckle out as they put the paper back into their backpack.

Uh oh, this was a clumsy by Aofil.

“You know how we didn’t see anyone as we walked here, Aof?” Undyne asks as she leans over the backrest of Aofil’s chair with her thumb pointing at the Lab door. “And remember how you didn’t ask so we all assumed you knew? Because why else didn’t you ask why the Underground is entirely devoid of monsters!? Besides us, that is. And River Person. And Grillby.”

Aofil’s neck cranes back as Undyne moves hers closer. She shakes her head just I front of Aofil. Had she worn a nose it would’ve bent Aofil’s respective. 

“Unbelievable!” she sighs through her lips. “Do you just assume these things by now, Aof? These frankly silly things such as the Underground not having any monsters in it? Besides us, River Person, Grillby, yada yada yada.”

“I kinda have to, yeah,” Aofil defends with a shrug. “You were the one chasing me down Mt. Ebott the first thing you did, so forgive me for being a bit desensitized to the strange happenings. No, not strange, normal, because they fire off like popcorn all the dang time!” they lament while throwing their hands up as they blow their lips.

“Ngahahahahah!” roars Undyne. “I love you, Aof. Don’t you dare forget that.”

“WE ALL DO!” Papyrus joins in while throwing his arms around Aofil in a gleeful embrace.

“Yes, yes, I love you all too,” Aofil assures while patting Papyrus’ back. “Do have patience with this human, will you?”

“This old human?” Undyne adds.

“Don’t push it.”

“Or else you’ll fall over?”

“Of course we’re gonna have patience,” says Toriel with words rising in command until Undyne gets the gist. Her shoulders then sink back to her normal calm state as she turns her head to Aofil to begin explaining. “The reason for the puppets is that, well, there’s not enough monster left in the Underground to populate it to the extent that Frisk saw during their travels. For the ones still here, not now, but usually, we’ve organized a feast in Monster City to celebrate Frisk’s birthday. We’ll be heading there after their tour through the Underground finishes.”

Fair enough. Aofil’s not gonna bother with the details of the assumption that everyone still in the Underground, who probably stayed in the Underground since they didn’t want to, or could, go to the Surface, were enticed not only by the prospect to travel up to the Surface, but also the assumption before that which took it that everyone are so enamored with Frisk that they would set aside said reservations for the Surface, which is the main carrot correlated with Frisk, and travel to the Monster City for Frisky festivities.

“there will be hummus,” Sans whispers, sensing the one large and cranky cogwheel turn in Aofil’s head. “home made.”

Oh, well that explains it.

Aofil do love themselves some hummus.

Since they have a human soul it’s safe to extrapolate that the monsters love hummus even more, and enough to leave the Underground regardless of previous hesitations. And with Aofil’s soul being the fabled Crimson Heart the rest of the humans with less determination wouldn’t be strong enough to resist the allure of hummus as well, canceling their plans to visit the Underground today or tomorrow.

Or something…

Wait, wasn’t Toriel explaining things?

“If it were only us here in the room at the moment spread out over the entire Underground it would be barren. So, Alphys devised these puppets to act as extras during Frisk’s travels.”

Yes, she was.

“She has been working her soul dry to make them all,” Undyne informs while leaning onto Alphys’ head. “I helped too!”

“I only managed to implement some basic interactivity,” Alphys explains while still rubbing her eyes. “But should Frisk take a bit more interest in one we can remote control it through the Lab here.”

“Through the cameras?” Aofil guesses.

“Yes.”

So they didn’t remove them…

“We’re gonna g-go and put them back in first, of course,” Alphys adds. “We removed the cameras a while after the Barrier broke, but the infrastructure is still left, so it’s just a matter of screwing them back in.”

Oh, alright then.

“Then we have some microphones and controllers to control the puppets and have them talk.” Alphys nods behind her, towards the large computer terminal and accompanying monitor just as large. “We’ll take turns, besides the ones Frisk is interacting with, of course. Perhaps we’ll even get some interaction between a puppet and an actor. Easier to distinguish between the two if we call us actors, by the way.”

Works for Aofil. 

Alphys seems to finally have gotten the purple out of her eyes, and she stands up to head back to the computer, but freezes just as she starts to stand up with her hand on the backrest of her chair. Her eyes shoot over to Toriel.

“It’s fine,” Toriel assures. “You can do your demonstration now, Alphys.”

She sighs in relief, “A-Alright!” and shuffles her way over to the computer terminal. After typing in some commands on the keyboard, a video feed starts. It shows the top floor of the Lab.

“Come on down!” Alphys shouts up the stairs.

The video feed begins descending the stairs, and it’s not long before it comes into view.

No…

Aofil quells a heave.

What the hell?

That’s...disgusting! Absolutely appalling!

No! Why? Of all to make a puppet of?

“Jerry?”

“What?” the puppet replies, throwing its neck forward while scowling. “Thought so.”

Sickening.

“Now why would ever do something like this?” Aofil accuses with their hand thrown out against the Jerry puppet. “Why Jerry of all monsters?”

“Because I wanted your reaction,” the puppet snarks. “Ngahahahahaha!”

Hold on…

Aofil’s attention moves over to the computer terminal, and a grinning Undyne spinning a microphone in her hand. She leans into it.

“It was a good one,” the puppet says as Undyne speaks into the microphone.

Undyne hands the microphone to Alphys, who puts it aside.

The Jerry puppet opens it mouth as if on a hinge. “Bap.”

“Oops.” Alphys deactivates the microphone with a quick flick of the button on its side. “There we go.” She picks up a controller very reminiscent of the on used for her game console. She rolls the analog sticks around, causing Jerry to wave his arms in a circular motion.

“The control scheme is similar for all puppets, with a few tweaks if necessary. I’ve labeled the buttons and their functions on a sheet here next to the computer if you want to take a look.”

Alphys places the console on a laminated sheet next to the computer screen.

“We will have a live feed view with both video and audio, from different angles, depending on where Frisk are and how many cameras we have pointing.” A few keystrokes later, multiple panels show up on Alphys’ screen. “Just choose which you want to assume direct control over, and it should pop up.”

“it sounds a bit ominous,” comments Sans with a slight tilt of his head. “can you phrase it like you’re not implying we’re taking away their free will?”

“It’s kinda what we do though,” Aofil retorts as they cross their arms. “I mean, as much as puppets have.” They cock their head over to Mettaton. “No offense.”

“Not gonna dignify that with an answer, sweetie,” comes a sour reply.

Oh, bitter.

Undyne rolls her eye while leaning her head back over her chair very dramatically. “Take it with a pinch of salt, won’t ya, Sans? It’s for Frisk.”

Hopefully it won’t leave as strange a taste in their mouth as it does Aofil’s.

“true,” Sans agrees with a slight nod. “and we got a lot of cake to distract me from questioning sentience.”

“You could do that with a drop of ketchup!” replies Undyne with wild flailing.

“true as well.”

A long and silent beat, disregarding the now loud fan from the projector, hangs over the room until Toriel oughs in her hand to get the attention of the room. “If everyone got the gist of the puppets, should we continue?” 

A murmur of different forms of ‘yes’ begins and ends like a small wave hitting a beach and retreating back into the water.

Toriel smiles along with an acknowledging nod. “Asriel?” she asks her son.

“Huh?” He snaps his head up from laying on top of the projector with his arms folded underneath his forehead as he sucks in a surprised snore through his nose. “Yes.”

The projected slide changes.

“Here’s how we’re gonna place the props.”


	147. You are not you, you are me

“Asriel?”

The half masqueraded Boss Monster turns around with his eyes closed as the makeup on his face still is a little bit wet from the first makeup session. “asriel? oh, i’m not asriel, mk. you must’ve-”

“Out of character for now, Az,” Aofil informs while turning their head over their shoulders to make sure the others are busy. “Also maybe tone down the imitation just a bit? Maybe have it just be your voice somewhat like Sans’ instead of a perfect imitation? Less suspicion that way.”

“I guess.” Asriel shrugs, his hood of his blue sweater lifting up as his shoulders does. “Wassup, then?”

“I don’t know if it just slipped your mom’s mind, but I just realized that she never said anything about how Frisk was to get down into the Underground,” Aofil begins while tilting their head forward. “My worries is that if you’ve decided upon something sorta close to what happened back in the day, Frisk might...”

Aofil again turns their head over their yellow painted shoulders with prosthetic scales chafing their chin as they make doubly sure no one will hear. They lean their head closer to Asriel’s. “Reset.”

The sound of Asriel’s eyes opening is akin to violently dragging loose some strong tape. His head cocks worryingly. “You think they would?” he asks through his drawn on smile. The effect it creates is a bit disorientating now that it’s only half finished, with the half done contours of Sans’ features not blending well with the structure of Asriel’s face just yet. Guess that’s why he’s up for a second layering by Radentim.

“I don’t know a hundred percent that they won’t, and you reacting to this has me worried, actually.” Aofil tries to cross their arms, but they fail to underneath the tight striped sweater in which their arms are hiding. Not that they’re abundantly capable of moving their arms after all the prop building and puppet placements yesterday. They should actually be grateful to have a reason not to put more strain on their arms. “I just want a guarantee so that I don’t have to think of it, that’s all.”

Asriel’s brow furrows, reminding Aofil a bit too much of when Sans summons wrinkles that shouldn’t be possible on his bony forehead. “I mean...Mettaton is up first as mom.”

Aofil turns to Mettaton carefully brushing the white and fluffy ears stapled on either side of his EX form’s head. The purple robe he’s wearing sways with each flamboyant tilt he does with his head to get the brush underneath the ears. It’s very clear that he’s added some...padding...to his overall form considering how it curves a bit wider than his EX form would allow normally. Something that Aofil’s sure Toriel is muttering about underneath her breath. She most certainly is catching a glimpse, if not more, through the mirror she’s sitting in front of as Radentim does his and or hers work.

Either because of that or the borderline deprived way Mettaton uses a pool cue cube to polish his prosthetic horns.

“You thinking he’ll shatter the immersion from the word go?” Aofil hazards a guess. It’s not totally out of question that such will be the case. True, with Mettaton being the one making the introductions, it’s well within acceptable parameters, if not a perfect bull’s eye.

Still, it’s not a complete guarantee.

“Frisk is smart, they’ll figure it out in no time.” Asriel nods confidently. “i guaranteeth it,” he says while flashing his own set.

“Don’t.”

“Gotta get back in character..”

Aofil’s not buying it. “Sure...”

What’s on the till though is Asriel being Frisk’s brother, after all. Of all people, monsters and humans, he should know.

Aofil should trust and let down their hair a bit.

Well, they can’t really now with the skin tight costume they’re wearing. Scale tight? Considering the texture of it?

Either way, pretty tight.

Remember what Toriel said before. Catharsis, change of context, just calm down. It’s gonna be fun, it’s gonna be all the way silly and ridiculous, and guaranteed absurd seeing their friends acting like their other friends.

Just…

Fine…

“When you punch a wall, the wall punches back just as hard.”

Wait a second.

Aofil turns around, sweeping the floor behind them with their tail. They flinch at the sight of Toriel smiling at them, and without arms to regain balance, they start to tip. Their tail provides enough inertia for Aofil to regain their large, paw-like, footing, and they blink as Toriel puts up her hand above her mouth to quell her giggling.

A human hand, with fair skin, covering her face painted like Aofil’s. Red, bright cheeks peeking on either side of her hand. Her hair further out is in the same color as Aofil’s. Red eyes blink in amusement at Aofil’s dumbfounded stare.

“Like looking in a mirror?” Toriel asks with her voiced toned as close to Aofil’s as possible. Not really the best of imitations, but Aofil can’t really blame her for that. Their MK imitation is horrible, and even more horrible on their vocal chords. 

Toriel tugs at her blue jeans shirt, exposing her pink undershirt. “Took a while until we found some in my size,” she says while turning around and inspecting her back and sides. “I like it. Pink is a good color.”

“Asriel!” shouts Radentim as he opens up a nearby cupboard. “Second layer!” She takes out some more black and white paint, popping the lids open before placing them on her work table adjacent to the mirror and barber’s chair.

Aofil still hasn’t been convinced proper that the paint Radentim uses isn’t ordinary house paint, especially not with him and or her popping the lids off with a screwdriver. Perhaps-

A sudden pressure makes its acquaintance with Aofil’s lumbar, and they instinctively turn around, catching Asriel stepping off their tail with a hunched posture, as if he also felt the pain.

Pain of faux pas, not physical, that is.

“Sorry,” he mouths before he begins jogging over to Radentim at the other side of the Lab.

Aofil looks over their shoulder at their tail. It wasn’t exactly painful what Asriel did, more like their tail only made them aware that something happened.

They flex their lower back.

The tail flops up, landing back down with a thick thud.

“That’s...”

Aofil repeats their action, but only at the right side of their lumbar. This causes their tail to drag itself rightwards. They try their left lumbar, their tail move left. A bit up and to the left, keeping it there for a second or so.

How high can they bend it?

“Don’t throw your back out,” advises Toriel.

Aofil didn’t really hear what she said through their clenching. They shift their eyes to Toriel. “What did you-” 

They’re interrupted by their tail giving them a bump on the back of their head, causing them to step forward from the shifted weight. As their tail comes back down they regain their balance again.

“That’s...” Aofil repeats with their head still facing the ground. “For the sake of being in character I’m gonna say that it’s really freaking awesome,” they say as they stand up straight again.

“So...I should say that it’s really freaky?” Toriel wonders with her hand pushed against her shirt.

Now that’s the freaky part.

Seeing Toriel with a human hand, even if it is clearly a modified surgical glove. Slender has never been a good word to describe Toriel with, and with her fingers and hand looking very slender through her glove. It gets quite a hesitation from Aofil.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Aofil replies as they continue testing their tail. If they really focus they might be able to get it to rotate around.

“Everyone!” shouts Alphys from the computer. Or was it the computer that shouted? Or was it Alphys forgetting to turn off her voice modulator? “Sans has delivered Frisk now!” Alphys shouts again after a couple of seconds in her normal voice.

Delivered?

Toriel motions for Aofil to follow her to the computer, and they do so while trying to keep their tail above the floor.

Don’t want to get it dirty.

“They’re still asleep, right?” wonders Asriel as he swivels the barber’s chair around before getting a stern look from Radentim as she and or he swivels it back with an angry huff.

“Still asleep, yes!” Alphys relays with a nod.

“not for long if you keep shouting like that,” Sans quips, emerging with his glued on wig and sideburns flowing gently in his shortcut breeze.

The gust of wind daintily lifts Mettaton’s robe, exposing his legs to the upper part of his thighs. He pushes it down while giggling to himself.

“My king,” he says to Sans, who is stroking the yellow beard stuck onto his chin and cheeks. “Not with other people around, my king.” Mettaton fans himself with his open palm, swooning on the brink of fainting.

A loud and rubbery clench emerges from Toriel’s glove, and her mouth pouts on an annoyed angle. A dark shadow creeps over her eyes from her fringe as she tilts her head down while muttering curses underneath her breath.

“It’s for Frisk,” Aofil hears her end with a calming sigh. “It’s for Frisk.” 

How much that calming sigh actually did to calm her down is up for debate.

What isn’t though is the enormous glee Aofil’s barely able to keep inside them.

This day is already amazing!

The computer shows a feed of Frisk lying on a mattress in the middle of vast cavern. Aofil’s pretty sure where exactly it is, but they’d rather not ask.

Good thing Asriel is at Radentim’s care right now. Him furrowing his brow to bolster himself against seeing where he as Flowey first attacked Frisk might ruin the makeup.

Looking at Frisk sleeping, moving aside the Mt. Ebott sized feeling of creepiness watching someone else sleep through a camera, it brings Aofil a bit of calm. They look very peaceful, despite their arms being strewn about like they were just dropped down onto the mattress.

Well...Sans shortcutted Frisk there, so it’s a plausible case that it’s what it’s looks like. Hopefully Frisk will be as smart as Asriel assures. Aofil ain’t got a lot of doubt against that, but again, that small lingering feeling is still there.

“Yes, now you’re done, Prince,” comes an annoyed sigh from Radentim’s way. He and or she spin the barber’s chair so that Asriel can eagerly jump out of it.

“So, now that Frisk is here,” Toriel begins as Asriel hurries over from Radentim’s chair the second he and or she finishes her and or his work. “We can begin the final preparations. Inside the Lab, you’re you, apart from when Frisk reaches the Lab, that is. We’ll have it be inconspicuous by the time Frisk arrives here. Otherwise, when you’re outside in the Underground, you’re your character unless stated otherwise. Which means that you will be...”

Toriel moves her...human...hand over to Asgore.

“I will be the Great Papyrus!” Asgore cheers, stepping one of his shin high red boot up on a nearby bow. He pushes out his chest, expanding the white foam armor covering his torso, as well as the, frankly ridiculously, small armor covering his waist and hips. He throws his long red scarf around his neck, smiling through both the teeth painted on the fur on his face, as well as his own glistening rows.

Toriel moves her...still...human...hand...over to Undyne.

She pushes up the glasses resting on her large prosthetic nose, causing them to dramatically reflect the ceiling light. She hunches over, and moves back her lower jaw to expose a set of clumsy buck teeth. “I’m A-Alphys! The smartest monster!”

Toriel motions again with her...human…

AAARGHH!

Calm down.

Take a deep breath…

And try again.

Toriel motions with her hand for Undyne to take it down a bit.

“I-It’s me back t-then,” Alphys reminds through the open flap in her Mettaton costume.

Undyne sighs, whistling through the small gap between her two front teeth. “Fine,” she spits awkwardly through her buck teeth.

She sweeps her tail around with a bit more finesse than Aofil has over theirs, and catches it with her yellow painted hands, wringing it while looking down. “I-I’m A-Alphys.”

Hearing Undyne’s voice being the antitheses of confident is really, really, unsettling to Aofil’s ears. Even factoring in that it’s being filtered through the rubber suit clinging onto their head, it still sounds weird.

“I’m t-the head sc-cientist,” Undyne continues while trying to disappear into her lab coat. The collar gets caught on one of her flat neck spikes, and she aborts the process lest she slices them through her coat’s fabric.

Alphys approves of the performance. Her uneven smile tells of it being a bit too close to home, but she swallows the feeling away.

Good on her for being able to do that.

“I c-created...” Undyne speaks through her nose while timidly motioning over to Alphys.

“I’m...” She pauses to tilt the face panel back up. She retracts her legs and tail up into the metallic box with a few wobbles on the one wheel still left to keep balance. She steadies herself after a bit, and raises one hand high. “I’m Mettaton, darlings!” Alphys proclaims proudly.

The face panel on her costume falls down again, exposing her getting a little to much into the role inside.

With an awkward chuckle she closes the face panel again.

“Please, do come visit MTT Hotel some time, we’re so eager for your money.”

Aofil’s eyes move over to the real Mettaton to gauge the reaction, but there is none.

So it’s all true then.

Not really the biggest of surprises, to be honest.

Alphys pirouettes around on her wheel while confetti pops out from the top of her box costume.

That Mettaton nods to, quite impressed, actually.

Creation approving its creator’s imitation to its creation.

Oh boy…Aofil’s head is starting to spin.

Good thing their tail is there to keep their balance.

Maybe they should get one permanently?

Their ancestors had tails, albeit not as big as the one Aofil’s using right now. They also do still have a tailbone which is getting some use after what…thousands of years? Hundred thousands?

Is Aofil getting evolutionary nostalgic?

Their tail flaps as the thought strike them.

Guess that’s proof enough.

“Ngahahahahaha!” roars MK as he steps up to Alphys. He swings his head around to get the hair from his red wig out of his blue face. With an intimidating slap of his tail painted to resemble one of Undyne’s spear he bumps Alphys’s box with his novelty breastplate while flashing a bright and yellow smile, the contours of which pushes against the inside of his lips.

“I’m Undyne! The leader of the Royal Guard!” MK shouts again, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m the coolest monster there is! You hear that, punks? You think you can mess with me, think again! Although you probably can’t since you believed you could mess with me in the first place!”

Undyne takes out a notebook from her lab coat pocket and scribbles a few lines down.

MK’s smile begins to waiver as he catches his own reflection staring back at him with one eye, a blue face, long red hair put up in a pony tail that stretches far down his back. His black and intimidating armor to show his prowess and coolness. “I’m...” He coughs a choke, followed by a short gasp. “I’m Undyne...”

“This all stays here, right?” Aofil whispers over to Toriel.

“How do you mean?” she whispers back curiously.

“I can make MK’s day, if not life right now, but I’m not sure-”

“Not sure about what?” Toriel shoots her brow down sternly. “We’re all friends and family, Aofil. No one is gonna make fun of you for getting into character.”

Guess she’s guessed Aofil’s intention.

It’s naive of her to think that no one present will nudge Aofil at their side and wink slyly along with a snicker if they do it though.

Although, it’s also quite endearing at the same time.

Aofil’s tail taps as they think.

They do have a bit thicker skin what with it being scales now.

You know that?

Let’s just do it.

“Y-y-y-y-yooooo!” Aofil stammers out in a starstruck whisper. They get the attention of MK, who turns his head around to see the imitation of himself bouncing on knees so filled with eagerness that they can’t do anything else. “Undyne! It’s you!”

The yellow teeth in MK’s mouth flash like lightning from a clear sky as it grows instantly into a cheek-stretching grin.

“You’re so cool!” Aofil continues, whipping their tail back and forth in such excitement that Toriel has to take a step away to not be tripped from it hitting her ankles. “I mean, yooo, it’s you! Who can be cooler than you, Undyne?”

“No one!” MK shouts back. “All the others who think I am are punks! Whelps that can never be as best and awesome as I am!”

There are few things in life one would describe as religious.

What MK’s expressing right now, is far, far above that. Up into the stars he is, with his eyes glittering just like them on a cloudless night.

“Ahuhuhu~”

“H-hey look!” Undyne points out with a bent finger. “It’s Mew Mew!”

Muffet puts a hand up to her mouth. Looks like her giggle slipped out of her accidentally. She moves her eyes to Aofil and MK, as if apologizing for interrupting the two. They nod back, encouraging her to go ahead.

She grabs her staff and the edge of her pink and frilly dress. “I’m Mew Mew,” she introduces with a bow. “How magical to see you all of you.”

“Yooo, Undyne?” Aofil asks to MK. “Aren’t you, like, in love with Mew Mew?”

Undyne shoots a pair of lowered brows over to Aofil through her glasses.

“Yeah! It’s the best show!” MK answers.

See! Aofil was completely right in others cheekily poking fun as the one they’re dressed up as.

Yes, yes, they were the one to do it, but they were still right!

Muffet’s cat ears perk and shift as she looks around. “It seems that my mikkarama pet is not with me, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing him soon.”

Wait!

Muffin too?

“Has it dried yet?” Aofil hears Toriel whisper to Asriel.

“I think so,” he answers after testing carefully by touching his makeup.

She then motions for him to go next.

Asriel shoves his hands into the front pockets of his blue hoodie. He lowers his poster, and puts on a big smile.

“Sans here.”

The others wait patiently for him to continue, but he just shrugs it off.

He knows his character, it seems.

Toriel waits for an additional while before realizing that she has to pick someone else to continue. She chooses…

Her eyes quickly avert from Mettaton.

She picks Papyrus.

“HOWDY, ALL! I AM ASRIEL, PRINCE AND BEST SIBLING TO FRISK!” he greets while dragging his hand across the top of his head along the glued on fur and plastic horns poking up from his skull.

“I’M THEIR ONLY SIBLING SO IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING, IF I WEREN’T VERY PROUD OF IT, THAT IS!”

Aofil shifts their head over to Asriel with a raised eyebrow. They can feel the paint on their forehead stretch across their formed wrinkles, but it should hold for this inquisitive inquiry.

Asriel retorts with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“MY PARENTS ARE THE KING AND QUEEN!” Papyrus continues, pointing to Sans and Mettaton respectively. “ISN’T THAT RIGHT, MY ROYAL PARENTS?”

“i could sure go for a cup of tea right now,” Sans makes it known. A kingly decree, if you will. He scratches the beard glued onto his chin. “i grew it myself, so it should be good.”

“Of course it will, my dear,” Mettaton assures. He puts his together on his robe. “My child, would that please you, my child?” he asks Papyrus with a comforting tilt of his head. “It’s not quite lunch yet, my child, but for today I think we can make an exception, my child.”

Why Toriel bothered with putting on color for her red cheeks when her fuming like this would’ve done the trick and look more natural is a question Aofil will derive great pleasure from in the future.

Again their prophecy becomes self fulfilled, in all senses.

“What about you, human?” Mettaton wonders over to Toriel, catching her off guard in her boiling annoyance. “I’ll bake a pie for the occasion.”

She quickly clears her throat. “I’d like that,” she answers. “Although, not a lot of snails, please. I’m terrible at hiding my distaste of it.”

Uh oh…

“But I’m sure we can be great friends regardless,” Toriel adds with a sly wink over to Aofil.

Guess they can.

“Sorry for breaking character,” Alphys informs quite hectic. Her face panel slamming down catches the immediate attention of the rest of the monsters and human. “But I think Frisk is about to wake up.”

Asriel pokes his head around the monitor. After a couple of second of assessing Frisk’s tossing and turning on their mattress he turns to the rest. “I’d say about ten to fifteen minutes or so before they wake up.”

Toriel nods. “Are we all warmed up then?” she asks, getting unanimous nods as an answer.

“Perfect, now let’s take our positions.”


	148. Purple instead of pink

“It’s all so weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just...everything. I just realized how strange it all is. Don’t you? You feel it too, don’t you? The...it’s so hard to describe! I’m so confused.”

Aofil would love to throw their hand out to emphasize their baffled state, but alas it is stuck to their side inside their costume.

What the hell is Undyne talking about? Is it just hitting her now the absurdity of it all?

She motions over her exposed teeth dragged into an uncomfortable smile. “You know when you buy a bulk pack of toothpaste and then switch to a new one once your previous bulk purchase is all emptied, Aof?”

What…

Undyne runs her tongue over her teeth, including the plastic buckteeth poking down like a pair of obnoxious curtains from inside her upper lip. Each minuscule distance her tongue moves makes her yellow painted brow lower further and further behind her bulky rimmed glasses. 

She shudders while her fingers curl. 

“It’s so weird.”

Aofil could sure use a pair of glasses themselves so that they could take them off and clean them to get their confusion across since they feel a bit at a loss for words right about now. How they’d do it with their arms not available for use is not for now to discuss since there’s no pair of glasses lying around for them to put on in the first place.

“Shh!” hushes Asriel harshly over his shoulder. “Frisk is about to wake up.”

Undyne continues her wiping with her tongue even after planting her eyes towards the Lab computer screen showing Frisk tossing and turning on their mattress.

Aofil sits down in their chair they dragged to them with the use of their tail. Carefully, as to make sure that their tail makes it through the opened lower half of the chair’s backrest.

Frisk stretches their arm over their head, letting it fall down over the edge of the mattress. Their eyes shoot wide open as their hand touches the petals of the Golden Flower patch surrounding them. Less than a second later they throw themselves up onto their feet, their cover wrapped tightly around them.

“Frisk doesn’t sleep naked, right?” Aofil whispers to Asriel.

They get a half disgusted, half angry look thrown back at them along with a small curl of Asriel’s lips.

Guess they don’t, since the camera hasn’t turned off for sake of their decency.

Hopefully.

Frisk’s head snaps from side to side, their breathing increasing with each rapid turn.

Now let’s see if they’ll be able to figure it out.

“Please, Frisk,” Aofil begs under their breath. They shoot a worrying look over to Asriel, who mimics it. Only Aofil notices him moving his hand towards the keyboard connected to the computer.

They pray he doesn’t have to touch it.

“Hello. Are you alright?”

Frisk spins their entire body towards where they heard the motherly voice, and the visage that greets them has them recoiling back, almost tripping over backwards. 

“I am Toriel, the caretaker of these Ruins,” Mettaton introduces with a slight bow. “I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down. It’s been a long time since the last human fell into these Ruins. Please, come with me. I will guide you through this worrisome place.”

He’s taking a few liberties with his script, which is fair enough. It’s Mettaton, after all. However, he’s not putting as much a spin on it as Aofil suspec-

Mettaton suddenly throws his arms out while jumping up on his toes. He spins around, causing his purple robe to lift up as he twirls around.

“For I am the Queen of the Underground!” he loudly proclaims, his voice echoing proudly throughout the large cavernous room. “I will treat you to a Royal Escort through this perilous purple place, as you have now become my subject, whom which I am sworn to host to the most magnificent and majestic m...”

While everyone’s eyes glare at Mettaton for not only going off script, but losing the track of his personal performance, two pairs stare at Frisk.

Asriel and Aofil’s eyes are locked hard on Frisk’s hand grasping at their chest. Their head is bent over, their shoulders heaving as their grip hardens. They don’t even notice their cover sliding off them and landing strangely piled onto their mattress.

Maybe they don’t care because...

No…

No!

Frisk!

“Don’t!”

Frisk bends over as they cough a choke.

No no no no no no no no!

But what follows isn’t a cry, but a chortle. A loud chortle, so loud that it interrupts Mettaton in his interpretative dancing to fill out the awkward silence he’s created. Frisk’s head is thrown backwards, revealing a gleaming grin that’s wide open in bursting laughter. They shake their head, mumbling incoherently through their guffaw. 

“Are you well, small one?” Mettaton asks, now seemingly back onto the original script, or as closely as possible. 

“I’m...I’m-” Frisk can barely speak through their laughter. Their head bends over as they try and suppress it with their hand. “I’m fine,” they manage to articulate after another while of interrupting snorts. “Yes,” they giggle. “I’m fine. Do lead the way, Toriel, caretaker of these Ruins.”

Their pause at Toriel’s name removes any doubt in Aofil’s head. Like a typhoon it sweeps the doubt away, never to be seen again.

Good freaking riddance!

Aofil sighs deeply of relief, feeling their shoulder sink into further into their costume. Asriel turns his head over his shoulder, and the two nod to signal that they both caught Frisk catching on. 

Great, now the even can continue without any more worries.

No worries at all.

Not even the slightest.

Perfect to the script, and no other deviations at all.

“Could you scratch my back, Asgore?” Aofil whispers as they present their backside to him. “It just started itching all of a sudden.”

“Strange,” he answers before offering a soothing claw on Aofil’s back.

Oh god…

“Yeah, strange,” they say after Asgore’s finished scratching.

“I’m worried how Mettaton will continue,” mutters Toriel with her...human...hand clenched at her mouth. “He must’ve bid his time acting according to the script while around us so that we would trust him to do it with Frisk too.”

Toriel’s hand constricts, causing the rubber glove to wail in pain.

“If he as much as lifts that robe over his ankles...”

“H-He’s d-doing it-t to not stain it on t-the floor, Toriel,” Alphys informs as if she’s delivery a death sentence to a dear friend.

The twitch in Toriel’s eye surely has the nearest geological station worried about an earthquake, but after a calming exhale, that would have the same geological station worried about the aftershock of said earthquake, she puts her balled fist against her forehead. A few bounces on it later she takes a deep breath through her nose.

“Guess we’re winging it.”

Winging it? 

“Haven’t we already been winging it?” Aofil asks to clarify. “Like, all the time? Ever since day one?”

“No?” Toriel asks back. “There was always a script.”

All eyes turn to Aofil despite loud mechanical clacks booming out of the computer’s speakers.

“I didn’t see any...” they defend. “I never head of one.”

“We’ve been talking about a script for two days now, Aof?” Undyne chimes in with a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you mean it figuratively.”

“If Aofil didn’t even read the backside of the paper with all of our roles on, why would they have read the script?” Asriel pretends to ponder.

“No,” Aofil repeats with their brow hardened against Asriel getting a bit much into the role of Sans, especially with him mirroring that smug smile of his. “I didn’t get a script.”

“But why not?” Toriel asks, mostly to herself. “I gave it to Mettaton who-”

Her fist again bounces on her forehead as she mutters underneath her breath.

From the computer comes a compliment on a hat. It’s followed shortly by a wavering “Happy birthday, Frisk… Enjoy your present...”

“I don’t want to say that I told you so, Toriel,” Asgore voices after a quick glance and a smile at Frisk mounting an ethereal top hat on their head. He quickly realizes that he might’ve entered into a battle he would’ve been better off not participating in, as the gaze shot at him from Toriel almost melts the foam his armor is made out of.

Aofil sure wishes their own red eyes could produce such heat.

“Ribbit,” emerges from the computer’s speaker.

Alphys spins on her wheel to monitor. “Good,” she concludes after Frisk passes the Froggit puppet with a quick wave. “The puppets are working.”

“Glad something is...” Toriel sighs with a quick shake of her head. “Will the puppets be able to handle things going off script, Alphys?”

She nods, causing her light panel flap to...flap. “They should be able to, and again, we can assume direct control should it be necessary,” she explains while motioning over the controller as if presenting a prize on a TV show.

Getting into the role of Mettaton, Aofil sees.

“So our worries are, for the moment, contained at Mettaton,” Toriel explains.

Judging by the reaction of everyone in the Lab, including Radentim scoffing as she and or he briefly halts her reading her and or his magazine in her and or his barber chair, Toriel just explained the blatantly obvious. No one wants to put her on the spot for doing it though, so the Lab falls into a heavy silence.

A while later it’s broken by a motherly voice. “Welcome to your new home, innocent one,” Mettaton wishes to Frisk.

The computer screen shows Mettaton motioning softly towards the purple house at the opposite side of the room he and Frisk just entered.

“Wasn’t he supposed to say that earlier?” Alphys mutters out. “Wait! They’re at Toriel’s house already?”

“AGAIN FRISK STUNS US WITH THEIR PUZZLE SOLVING SKILLS!” Papyrus cheers at the computer screen, his green striped sweater bouncing joyously as he does. “THEY DIDN’T EVEN HESITATE TO THINK BEFORE SOLVING THEM ALL!”

“Did you redesign the puzzles or did you just reset them?” Aofil asks to Toriel. “They’re an adult now, after all. They’ve had a couple of years to hone said puzzle skills.”

“We didn’t want to tarnish the cultural importance the ancient puzzles had,” Asgore explains with a slight tilt to his head. “The Ruins weren’t always the Ruins, and there’s much history there.”

Fair enough. 

Frisk tucks their hat down as they enter through the door held open by Mettaton.

Toriel’s eyes widen in sudden realization as the camera source switches to one inside the house.

“I didn’t hold the door open for them...” spills out of her mouth. “I must’ve hurried for the pie...”

“Are you alright?” Aofil wonders with a worried curiosity. Her being stunned like this can never bode well.

“Did-” Asgore clamps his own mouth shut with his hand before more can escape him. He takes a glance over to Toriel, but she’s lost in her own horrified mumbling to have noticed him.

“What, dad?” Asriel pries. “Something about mom?”

Asgore removes his hand. Asriel asking him might be enough of an alibi not to be set on fire by Toriel. He clears his throat. “I think your mom just realized that Mettaton gave Frisk a warmer welcome than what she did.”

“Why did I close the door behind me? It must’ve been the pie,” Toriel says in a desperate effort to convince herself. “It must have! For the surprise factor! Why else would I’ve...”

“Do you smell that?” asks Mettaton after carefully taking Frisk’s hat and placing it on a hat rack on the far end of the hallway using his extended arm. The friendly gesture has Toriel sweating at the eyebrows, and she tries to hide her eyes and head in her...human...hand.

Frisk takes a sample of the air.

“Surprise!” Mettaton applauds. “It’s a hearty breakfast!”

Frisk’s head tilts inquisitively.

“I thought we might celebrate your arrival, so I spent all morning preparing this for you.”

That’s a lie, but no one in the Lab is in a position to call Mettaton out on it.

“I want you to have a nice time living here, my child. You’re my child now, my child, so I will hold off on snail pie for tonight, my child.”

Toriel emerges slowly from her hand, her cheeks now blossoming like Aofil’s, if not more. She looks at Asriel.

“You did say that a lot back in the days, mom,” Asriel has to inform his mother with a heavy heart. It’s a bit incongruous hearing Asriel deliver such bad news to his mother with an ever present smile on his face.

Toriel sighs as she shakes her head. “I did not expect this...”

Aofil now has to vigorously curse their lack of useful arms. Before when their back was itching they just cursed their lack of useful arms normally, but now it’s vigorous.

Because they’ve no idea how they’re gonna hold in this splitting grin of theirs!

Luckily Mettaton’s flamboyant serving of Frisk’s breakfast distracts enough for Aofil to not be called out on their grievous giggling.

The hunger in Frisk’s eyes is palpable, as Mettaton dances in and out of the kitchen, bringing with him an entire smorgasbord of delicious plates. Frisk digs hungrily in, all the while Mettaton stands behind with his hands planted on the front of his robe.

“I’ll prepare your room in the meantime,” he calmly informs to Frisk back after a gentle tussle of their hair. “You just tell me when you feel full.”

Frisk’s seemingly insatiable appetite halts for a split second, their fork filled with egg and bacon hovering an inch from their lips. Their brow lowers for just a moment before they shake it off and shove their fork into their mouth.

“Bets on what that could be?” Asriel shoots over to the rest of the costumed crowd.

“Besides horrible table manners?” Aofil answers with coy. Had Toriel not been busy muttering under her breath they wouldn’t have made that comment, but if Asgore feels that it was safe to, then it must be for Aofil as well.

They’re not spared Asriel’s tired gaze though. Not as strong as his mother, since he’s only half of her.

Nice, they’re well on their way on the path of pushing out the fact about Asriel’s true nature. This even is already doing good for Aofil, which is good. 

They did catch themselves on being wrong though, but steady on.

One day they’ll get there.

“My most educated guess would be the cooking,” Undyne answers after breathing in clumsily through her buckteeth. “Since, you know...”

“METTATON HAD THE OVEN ON A BIT TOO LOW?” Papyrus hazards with a twirl of his fur covered glove.

Dammit, seeing that makes Aofil aware of the fur on their arm and how it’s been chafing against their costume!

And they can’t do a whole lot about it! Only twirl it slightly. It’ll have to do though.

Even if it doesn’t do anything, really.

“Sure,” Undyne nods. “Let’s go with that.”

A bit weird of Undyne to imply that it’s Papyrus’ cooking that’s at fault since the scrambled eggs Frisk was served was supposed to be sunny side up, and that could very well have been the source of the confusion. The half salvaged state wrapped around their fork.

But a certain blue monster insisted on using her magic to stir.

Sparks and intense aura doesn’t do well on the delicate surface tension holding an egg together. Hence, scrambled eggs. Goes down Frisk’s hatch without further hesitation so evidently the food isn’t the case.

Must be Mettaton mentioning the room, or more specifically, reminding Frisk that Toriel did so as well. It’s not the accommodation though, but what followed it. After Frisk realized what Toriel actually wanted them to do.

Stay there forever.

“You can leave the dishes,” Mettaton informs after having opened the door to Frisk’s room slightly ajar. 

Frisk still cleans up after themselves, putting their finished plates inside the basin filled with water inside the kitchen. They hold their hand on the knob of one of the drawers for a short second, but decides against opening it.

Aofil’s not sure what to make of that, and nor is Asriel. The two pout their lips in thought as Frisk heads back into the living room and down the hallway.

“I’ll be in the living room should you need me,” Mettaton says in passing to Frisk with a gentle bow of his head. His stapled on ears flop like two wet socks hang to dry in windy weather from the motion.

Frisk smiles back and bows their own head, but their smile quickly fades as they turn away from Mettaton. Furrowed thought replaces their warm smile, and it stays on even as they enter their prepared room.

A neat pile of clothes has been placed on the bed. Undershirt with a purple sweater, pants, and a fresh set of underwear.

The last part has Aofil worried why the video feed is still going.

And they should probably voice that concern.

They smack their lips. “Should we really be watching Frisk change clothes?”

The room trade glances with each other before all turning to Alphys. She freezes for a second before moving her hand over to the keyboard.

“Wait,” Asriel says as he pushes away Alphys’ hand.

Frisk moves over to the bed and picks up the pile.

“Just because you’ve seen them doesn’t me we shou-”

“Shh!”

Aofil cranes their head back from Asriel’s vicious hush. Before they can react, their eyes move up to the computer screen again.

Adult or not, they shouldn’t be watching this.

“Asriel,” Aofil begins, but when Frisk puts away the clothes, their voice trails off into an alleviated sigh.

Frisk lays down on the bed with their thumbs rolling along on their stomach. Their gaze is locked hard on the ceiling, dangerously close to where the camera is mounted.

“You think they’ve seen the camera?” Toriel asks.

Asriel shakes his head. “No, they haven’t. I think...” He pushes off from the computer desk with a sigh through his painted lips. “I think they might be thinking. Taking it all in.”

Seems to be the case, Aofil concludes as well. Frisk throughout expression is sunk deep. Even when considering the effect gravity has since they’re laid down on their back. 

Their head must be rushing with memories and how to interpret them. It’s a given that they’re feeling a bit hesitant, but to which extent Aofil can’t tell through the resolution of the camera. 

“What are they thinking, Aofil?”

They turn their head to Undyne’s yellow one, before shooting a look over to Asriel staring without as much as a faint thought that he should get into position since he’s supposed to be up on stage in the not so distant future.

He’s got a jacket on so he won’t be sick should Frisk take a bit more time to think.

“Why are you asking me and not Asriel?” Aofil replies with a quick tilt of their head.

“You’re a human,” Undyne answers as she adjusts her glasses.

Aofil’s eyes narrow instinctively in an attempt to get more clarity. It fails.

“It’s not that I can’t read what Frisk is thinking,” Undyne begins to explain after shaking her head slowly. “But,” she says through clenched teeth, “you know… You’re a human, and Frisk is too.” 

Undyne’s words has the rest also turning their heads to Aofil for the answer. Seems like they were all thinking it too, and are eagerly curious for Aofil’s answer.

Hm…

Frisk leans their head over the edge of the bed with their eyes resting on the pile of clothes they dropped onto the floor. They reach down while simultaneously sitting themselves up on the bed’s edge. The purple striped sweater hangs from their hands, and they look at it unblinkingly.

It should be obvious, even to the monsters, what’s running through Frisk’s mind like a torrential river. Judging by the way the deafening silence grows with each minute movement Frisk does, the monsters know exactly.

So why ask Aofil? Did they think Aofil would have a different answer?

Or maybe the monsters wanted to hear a human say what they themselves thought. To hear their own monster thoughts come out of a human’s mouth, out of Aofil’s mouth.

To wash away the guilt still lingering from when Frisk fell down, and the times before with the other kids? 

If a human thinks the same then the past is behind everyone, right?

Frisk’s birthday seems less for them with each passing second.

It’s more for the monsters than them at this point. Aofil don’t think that it was the intention, but it is what happened. It’s turned into an introspect for the monsters.

But hey, at least there’s cake and costumes.

Introspective can still be fun, right?

Frisk puts the sweater against their torso while looking at themselves in the mirror. Their eyes hang for a second before shooting over to the door. They put down the sweater with a sigh, and then run their hand down their pajamas and-

Oh good, the feed stopped.

Phew!

“Mettaton should be ready by now,” Alphys informs after coughing away the silence. “Asriel, you should be getting into position.”

He nods. “Right, Sans?”

“yes, you?”

“Still inside the Lab, Sans.”

He shrugs, and brings Asriel through a shortcut. He comes back alone with a cold breeze following him.

“prince has been planted.”

Alphys acknowledges with a quick nod, and switches the camera feed to one of a long hall. It’s the one underneath Toriel’s house, with Mettaton standing at the end of it in front of a large door. Footsteps are heard, increasing in volume.

Mettaton turns around, and comes face to face with Frisk standing half the length of the hallway away from him. Their striped sweater blends halfway into the surrounding scenery, but still they’re brightly illuminated.

As their large and warm smile lights up the entire hallway with its radiance.

“You want to leave, don’t you, my child?” Mettaton speaks softly as small square robots dressed up as flames emerge from behind him. “To celebrate your eighteenth birthday and become an adult?”

Frisk takes a step forward.

“Then prove to me.”

And another.

Aofil is offered a handful of popcorn from Undyne which they gladly take a mouthful out of. Her eyes are too glued on the screen to notice Aofil almost biting on one of her fingers.

“Prove to me that you can handle the Underground!”


	149. Hot legs and laughs

“Wow...”

The entire Lab draws a collective exhale, letting the mesmerized air out in a joint sigh. The thumping bass from Frisk and Mettaton’s fight still resonates like thunder that’s just passed by.

And what thunder it was!

So that was why Blookie was there, to do the music! Damn, he really gave it his all. Shocked Frisk for a moment, sure, but it wasn’t long before they started bobbing their head with the rhythm, just like the viewers in the Lab.

Aofil needs to remember to ask for the song from Blookie. It’ll be perfect for their workout. One of many great songs, hopefully, if the one for this fight is anything to go by.

On the monitor Frisk breathes out while leaning their hands rest on their knees. Their body heaves up and down as they recover from the fight through some heavy breaths. Well, it was more a dance than a fight, to be honest. Less flamboyant than what Mettaton would usually do and more…sophisticated. That’s most likely the closest word to use here. So different from his normal routine of being a star on stage.

He’s got range, gotta give him that.

A ballet, or a ball at a grand castle back in the days of kings and queens. Mettaton sure did take the role of queen to heart with his performance.

A bit too liberal with how high he should kick his legs while wearing a robe, true, but who can blame him?

Toriel, most likely.

But that’s for later.

Frisk did also put their best foot forward, and then their other, and then their best again. It reminded Aofil of when they took Frisk to soccer practice that one time so many years ago.

So many years…

Their dodging hasn’t faded one bit. Undyne’s work, most likely. That proud smile of hers is still very much hers even with the layers of paint and prosthetic making her look like Alphys. Even Radentim with his and or her many layers of makeup and skill can’t stop Undyne’s smile from flashing brighter than the sun.

“Awesome!” she shouts with her arms held up high in triumph. “Frisk takes the win once again! Ngahahahaha! So awesome! Just how we planned!”

“Yeah...planned,” Toriel is hesitant to agree. Her eyes are hard on Mettaton brushing off his purple robe. His many robotic flames gather around him, and after blowing kisses to Frisk, who blows one back, the flames retreat behind Mettaton’s back.

“I NEVER KNEW YOU WERE SO FLEXIBLE, TORIEL!” Papyrus voices in half a cheer, half a question.

As if being struck by the heaviest and bluntest object in the known world, Toriel’s head shoots forward with her eyes almost popping out of her skull. She coughs as if her entire being is about to escape her.

“COULD YOU KICK AS HIGH AS METTATON DID?” Papyrus continues while rubbing his chin tilted down at Toriel’s leg. “CAN YOU STILL DO IT? I MIGHT KNOW OF SOME HUMAN MARTIAL ARTS THAT MIGHT-”

Asgore pulls him upright again without saying a word. He can’t really, because whatever he would say would be the biggest mistake he ever did in his life. Agreeing or disagreeing wouldn’t matter. Even if he’d known Toriel’s flexibility back then, it would be better left unsaid.

For everyone’s sake.

“SHOULDN’T YOU BE IN POSITION, ASGORE?”

The painted, bony smile on Asgore’s lips widen into a relieved smile. “Y-yes, I should!” He motions for Sans with his hand, and just as Toriel is about to turn her head around, Sans and Asgore disappear with nothing but the breath of a relieved husband not having to answer his wife’s burning question.

A sigh so strong it could be felt around the world.

With a friendly elbow to knock the air out of Papyrus so that he can’t reiterate his question to Toriel, Undyne steps up to the Boss Monster with her brow so furrowed you could crush a walnut between the folds. 

“My robe...so...revealed...” Toriel mutters to herself. Her eyes quiver in rhythm with her mouth.

“It’s Mettaton,” Undyne reminds with a chuckle, turning to each other person in the room to get them to join in it. “He just went off script, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” the room agrees in unison.

“Off...script,” Toriel repeats under her breath.

“Yes,” the room repeats.

She nods to herself. “Yes, that’s...that’s what he did. Off script.”

This is all so goddamn amazing Aofil’s at a loss of words. They have to step aside for a moment to not let Toriel see their stifled laugh and quaking shoulders. Hearing Undyne comfort Toriel after Mettaton having pretended to be Toriel and kicking up his robe to-

Nope! Nope!

Aofil has to step outside.

They can’t… They can’t get this under…

The door closes behind them, and Aofil begs to any and all power that would listen to them that it’s sound proof.

Because they can’t hold it in any longer.

Their tail extends behind them as far as it can to keep them from falling over as their entire upper body flies forward in a throat destroying laugh. 

The entirety of Hotland laughs with them as their voice echoes on the vast cavernous space surrounding them. The heat from the lava flanking the stone platform the Lab is on has the air almost burning Aofil’s already destroyed throat as they breathe in greedily between spouts of giggles and snorts.

Aofil’s pained coughs is punishment for their laughter. Each one is like a pinch on their throat followed by a twist when they breathe in again.

They shouldn’t be laughing. They shouldn’t be enjoying Toriel’s confusion this much, but…

Their faint facade breaks immediately, and they descend once again into their tub of titter. 

Now even their tail gets into the action, smacking the ground behind them as Aofil’s arms would on their knees should they have them available to them.

Why did they put on the costume so long before Frisk gets to where Aofil’s supposed to meet them?

Just another giggle to add to their already side splitting pile of absurd amusement and baffled bursting. They don’t mean anything malicious about it all. It’s just so...relieving to them. All of the past years, with and without the monsters, even the years before the monsters even surfaced, are nothing now.

Like those years never happened, because how could the scenario of Mettaton dressing up as Toriel and kicking his leg so high up that Toriel becomes embarrassed for herself happen if all those years of hardship happened?

Or maybe…

A drop falls across Aofil’s view. Sweat? Or a tear?

Maybe it’s because of all the years of hardship that they’re laughing so hard. It’s all come ahead for them now. It’s all dawning on Aofil, all at the same time, so what can they do but laugh?

Aofil blinks, and as their eyes open, they can’t see naught but distorted colors and shapes.

Tears…

Radentim won’t be happy having to paint Aofil’s face again. He and or she has already washed his and or hers brushes and put those away in their cases.

Having to bother Radentim, asking her and or him to unpack her and or his kit again is like a corn of sand in comparison to the mountain of hardships the monsters and Aofil has had to climb, yes, but the mountain is behind them, and the sand is in their shoe.

Well, in their eye, technically, since they’re crying.

“You alright?”

Aofil turns their head over their shoulder and is greeted by the very much costumed Muffet walking up with worry planted firmly on her face. Her five eyes blink violently as she spots the tears in Aofil’s two eyes. Drops of water are shaken out from the glass in one of her hands, crashing onto the hot stone floor with loud sizzling and puffs of steam.

The shock reverberates all throughout Muffet’s many limbs, and the sympathy hits Aofil multitude because of that. “No, no,” they say while fruitlessly bending their head to try and dry off their tears on their orange striped sweater. “I’m fine, Muffet,” they say while stretching their neck as far as their skintight costume allows, which unfortunately isn’t far enough for their eye to reach their shoulder. “Just had to step outside for a moment. It’s not because of what it looks like though. I wasn’t crying.”

One of Muffet’s hands move up to indicate her own eyes. “But?” Her others begin to clench, especially around the glass of water and her wand which she carries in another hand, the crystal on which turning into a deep blue color with a worried glow to it.

“I was laughing,” Aofil explains after giving up on on trying to dry off their eyes. They should dry off from the heat surrounding them. “That’s all.”

The color on Muffet’s crystal turns a few shades lighter, but her grip remains as hard as before. “Laughing? But your tears...”

“Laughed a lot, that is,” Aofil explains with a small shake to their head. It’s not enough to get the tears away, as they’ve thickened from leaving streaks in Aofil’s yellow makeup. “Mettaton being Toriel, and Toriel reacting to it is just-”

A sneaky chortle interrupts their explanation. 

Muffet’s mouth bends to the side into a conflicted pout in response. Her feline tail bends underneath her legs, stopping just short of wrapping around her leg.

Aofil’s own tail is lifted up as they lurch forward in their haste to continue their explanation. “No, no I was laughing with them. I promise. I’m just so relieved that we’re able to do this, that we’re able to have so much fun without any swelling asterisks pulsating with each snicker and silly moment. Fun, without anything to worry about. Except Toriel seeing Mettaton kicking as if he’s trying to imprint his foot on the ceiling.”

Just a snicker for Aofil this time. They’re calming down.

Muffet nods along to that as her grip on her wand relaxes. “I’m glad too, Aofil.” It instantly becomes tight knit again as her face begins blushing.

Aofil hazards that it’s not because of the heat, even if it would’ve been a good guess. The glass of water must’ve been her excuse for the others to follow Aofil outside. It’s nice of her, even if it’s steaming away with each passing second. Aofil don’t think they should be drinking it now that it’s begun cooking.

They’re pretty sure why she came out to see them.

And Aofil is not gonna lie. It’s pretty clear to themselves that’s something’s been strung along between them and Muffet. Metaphorically, that is.

For now.

“We can talk later next week, Muffet,” they offer to her with a nod. “My place for some dinner? It’s about time I cook something, don’t you think?”

Her prosthetic cat ears pique as if a shot of electricity suddenly burst right through them. Her eyes shoot over to Aofil, and she retracts her upper lip once she realizes that she’s caught. She can’t be used to being the insect in the spider’s web, so her reaction is understandable. It has her mouth moving in all shorts of shapes as she fails to find one that’s comfortable.

Her fangs push gently against her chin again…

Those dimples…

“I’d...I’d love to, Aofil.” Muffet averts her head while putting the back of one of her hands up to her mouth. “Ahuhu~” she giggles with fluster burning hotter on her cheeks than the flowing lava snaking along around the rocky plateau. “I’ll bring with me some wine and cheese.”

“From the Crystal Cavern?” Aofil pries curiously.

“I’m afraid that I don’t have anything as fancy as what Mettaton gave me on our first-” She clears her throat. “During Mettaton’s show.”

“As long as you bring your company, Muffet,” Aofil assures with a smile. “That will be more than fine with me.”

It’s comforting saying something and feeling how much you actually mean it. Aofil can’t help but smile at that feeling bubbling inside them more than the water in Muffet’s hand.

Should they be worried that she’s still holding it?

“Fuhuhuhu~”

Guess not.

A gentle silence falls between the two, with only the calm bobbing of the lava and the faint hum of the Lab making itself known.

“We should probably head inside,” Aofil suggests after catching the silence with their ears. The heat is starting to get to them, which isn’t the most ideal of situations. “It’s still Frisk’s birthday, after all.”

Muffet nods. “It is, but first.” She walks up to Aofil and tilts their head to the side. With another hand she carefully dries off some yellow painted tears and flick them away. They sizzle away as they land on some hot rocks.

Aofil blinks to get the feeling of Muffet’s claw away from underneath their eyes. “Thanks.”

She drags a smile and turn to head back inside the Lab. Aofil hangs back for a couple of seconds as they still feel the roughness of Muffet’s finger on their eyelids.

Everything they teased Tylior about is flooding back to them now, along with a burning question more hot than anything Hotland could ever produce.

Did Aofil do it because they weren’t sure how they felt about Muffet?

Now that they think about it… Yeah, that must be why. All the way starting from when Tylior first introduced Sevoltne, Aofil’s been...jealous? 

No, not jealous. Curious, maybe. Intrigued? With Muffet they’re definitely intrigued, that’s a certain. Even from the first time they met her dressed as that one anime character. Not the being trapped and scared in the dark part. More the candle lit dinner part.

She was confident in herself, confident in her craft, and still is. However, there’s a part of...not vulnerability, but more...sensitivity with her patrons.

Or maybe that’s just towards Aofil…

Yeah, it’s just towards Aofil. From what Aofil’s seen, her other patrons are more like flies to her. 

Still, her confidence, laughter, fang dimples...

Guess Aofil’s no better than Tylior. Boy is he gonna enjoy shooting all those things Aofil said back to them.

Oh woe, what horrible thing to realize.

And even worse!

Aofil squandered asking Muffin about…things! Maybe Muffet’s favorite flowers? Favorite wine, cheese, clothes, anything?

Aofil chuckles again, this time over themselves. They’ve never felt life this before! This tingling sensation when thinking about someone else.

It’s not only Frisk that’s growing up today.

Aofil should’ve seen it coming, honestly. Muffet did it way before them. Although, she has more eyes in which to see, so that might explain it.

They should probably head back inside now before Muffet has to come out again and ask a second time.

The cool air of from inside the Lab breezes by Aofil as the door opens after registering their presence. They shiver for a second, shaking even their tail which they quickly drag out of the way of the closing door.

“You have some,” Undyne points out while flickering her fingers in front of her face. “Sweat?”

“Yeah, sweat,” Aofil answers after clearing their throat. It’s still a bit soar from Hotland. “Had to step out for a moment.” They turn their head to the computer screen. “Did I miss anything?”

The computer shows Frisk just about to open the large ornate doors leading out of the Ruins. They halt for a moment as the flat of their palms touch against the purple stone, and they remove their hands with a heavy sigh.

“They have their sweater,” Toriel thinks out loud. “Shouldn’t be the cold...”

“FRISK ALMOST FORGOT THEIR HAT!” Papyrus points out with a heroic throw of his fur covered index finger with matching claw. His proud stance has his ears flopping behind his head. “HOW CRUEL A FATE WE JUST BARELY DODGED!”

Frisk turns back down the long hallway.

After dragging a snivel from the sudden and vast temperature gap making itself known in Aofil’s nose, they turn to Toriel, who meets their inquisitive look. Aofil has to drag yet another snivel before their runny nose has the yellow paint seeping into their mouth. “It’s a good thing Asriel has a jacket on him. Otherwise he might catch a cold standing in the snow waiting so long.”

“Asgore though,” Toriel retorts with a snicker. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing like this.”

Oh yeah, Asgore.

Yeah, he’s gonna be having some heavy snivels himself after today. Some royal, kingly snivels that are gonna be heard throughout the street. Sure did so when he had hay fever last month or so. His sneezes had the windows in Aofil’s house almost shatter from the loud and intense sound. It’s a miracle the rest of his family can still hear things.

“Forgot my...” Frisk explains as they pass Mettaton heading back through the basement hallway. “Forgot my hat. Sorry,” they apologize sheepishly while indicating to their hat-less head.

They squeeze past him on the stairs leading up into Toriel’s house with another quick apology and mount their ghostly hat just as he takes the last step up on the stairs.

“How does it fit?” Frisk asks while running their finger around the ethereal rim of their hat. Mettaton smiles, and tilts Frisk’s hat just a bit to the side before retreating his hand, satisfied. He takes a bow. “Good luck in your travels, no longer small one.”

Toriel’s hand move up to her mouth.

“Good luck in your caretaking,” Frisk bows back, “Queen Toriel.”

“My child...” Toriel whispers.

Mettaton steps aside and waves Frisk ahead down the stairs. “Do you want some food to take along your journey?”

Frisk halts on the middle plateau and shift their head up, catching their hat just before it falls off. “I have a suspicion that I’ll be eating soon again,” they shoot over with a knowing wink.

“Oh darling child,” Mettaton flaunts while leaning on his elbows on top of the guardrail. “How wise you’ve grown.”

With a last wave, and a blown kiss from Mettaton, Frisk heads down the stairs again.

“You haven’t lost a single determined step since last time, my child,” Toriel whispers to the screen, her hand moving quietly from her mouth to her chest. “I’m so proud.”

“Frisk is the single constant in our bundled equation,” Aofil says with a nod to Toriel, who gives one back.

“They came back to me before exiting to the Underground,” Toriel remembers with a reserved nostalgia weaved into her words. “I was tending the flowers when I heard their steps. It took a while for them to muster up the courage, but eventually they came and sat down next to me. I told them...”

Toriel blinks away a tear.

“I told them again to be strong. They nodded, but stayed for a bit with me to help with my gardening. We found a snail, and I recited some facts about it to them as they listened eagerly. I thought...I thought that they might’ve changed their mind, and had chosen to stay.”

Frisk again makes their way down the long purple hallway, now with their ghostly hat slightly tilted on its side. Each echoing step they take has Toriel flinching as the sound sneaks in underneath her tucked in ears.

“They still have the same way of walking. It sounds almost exactly the same as it did back then. Hearing it now though,” Toriel says under her breath. “There’s no fear in their step. There’s no hesitant pauses. None of the worry what awaits after they open that door.” Toriel motions for everyone to lean in closer. “Listen.”

A collective shuffle emerges for a split second as the costumed friends and family lean in towards the speakers.

“You hear that?” Toriel asks, dragging a proud snivel in the meantime. “That excited gait?”

Yeah, now that Toriel mentions it… It’s almost as if Frisk is skipping forward. They’re still walking, but it’s barely so. They’re strutting, excited and eager to see what’s beyond the door!

“My child,” Toriel repeats with her eyes glittering from the light of the computer screen. “I’m so proud to be your mother. I love you with all my soul, Frisk. Thank you for being my child, my child.”

She scoffs, knocking away the thick tears that have been building up in her eyes. 

“Guess I do say that phrase a lot,” she chuckles. “Forgive this old Boss Monster, Frisk. She’s too happy to see you this determined to have fun. It reminds her that the Underground is behind her, child, and that everything that has happened after the Barrier broke is real, and not something an old self exiled queen has imagined all these years.”

Frisk stops at the ornate double door.

“A THREEFOLD CHEER FOR FRISK! HIP HIP!”

They check over their shoulder.

“Hurray!” cheers the Lab.

Frisk drags a smile.

“HIP HIP!”

And turn their head back to the door.

“Hurray!”

They put their hands on the ornate door.

“HIP HIP!”

And push it open!

“Hurray!”


	150. Hairy bones

“Remember when I said that it might’ve been a good idea to remove the camera in the bushes?” Aofil asks as the morphed visage of Frisk’s face is pressed up close against the lens of the camera hidden in the bushes just outside the doors to the Ruins. Would’ve been a good idea to remove that one beforehand.

The Lab is greeted to the wide and distorted smile of Frisk chuckling to themselves, each small shake from their chortle has their form morph, almost grotesquely, as the camera attempts to track and refocus.

“You can almost see the hairs in their nose,” Undyne points out and immediately after regretting that she did.

“Skipping a bit with your toothbrushing,” Toriel says in a disappointed hum. “Hopefully not something you’ve gotten from your brother, child,” she continues as she crosses her human-like arms. “You’ve just ruined your excuse that it’s because of Asgore’s tea, young human.”

Aofil’s not really sure what to make of Toriel sinister snicker. They’ve not heard her don it before, and in tandem with her now red eyes is bringing back the first thought Aofil had when they first saw the horned visage of Toriel and Asgore.

Devil’s wife, laughing at the rotting of the fallen human’s teeth. A large and valuable bargaining chip that she’s not gonna let squander. 

Her wig and rolled up ears above a pair of plastic human ones is a bit incongruous to the whole devil symbolism. Quite silly, simply.

Delightfully devilish, Toriel.

Aofil runs their tongue outside their own teeth. They’ve regained some glisten and white now that they’ve decided to go back to Golden Flower tea instead of coffee, but they’re not gonna fool themselves that their teeth are as white as the bouncing fur poking out of Toriel’s glove as she snickers to herself.

Maybe Aofil should ask Alphys if she can whip up a toothbrush to help.

Aofil doesn’t have the time to catch themselves actually wanting to ask Alphys for more robotic appliances in their home as a loud “Psst!” emerges from the computer’s speakers. Frisk winks at the camera. “I’ll play along. Don’t worry,” they say with a smile widened greatly by the lens. “Thank you, all of you.”

Heh.

Good, kid.

“You too, Frisk,” Aofil wishes back at the computer screen as Frisk heads off further into the snowy corridor flanked on either side by the dark silhouette of the surrounding forest.

“M-maybe we should’ve moved the camera like you said, Aofil,” Alphys sighs through her face panel. “If they didn’t know before they know now that we’re watching.”

“Nah,” Aofil retorts with a quick frown and shake of their head. “Pretty sure they had it figured out the moment Mettaton revealed himself. He kinda burst through the fourth wall, so to speak. Kicked a great big hole in it and threw his arms, and legs, up in the air.”

The leg addendum has Toriel muttering for a short second.

“A bit like h-he did back in the day,” Alphys says under her breath. “A bit too close to the-”

“Alphee,” Undyne states, interrupting Alphys with a figurative raised index finger.

Alphys nods. “Y-yes, t-thanks, Undyne.”

“Always, Alphys.”

The two smile warmly at each other.

“NO!”

Which turn into startled scowls.

“THEY MISSED THE STICK!” Papyrus makes it known the horrific truth with a mortified shout. He follows the large stick placed a bit too obviously across the snowy path. Frisk merely skipped over it, and as the overhead camera pans with them, the stick disappears out of sight. Papyrus’ finger continues along the wall to the left of the computer screen. “HOW WILL ASRIEL KNOW WHEN TO REVEAL HIMSELF?”

“Human,” Asriel says as he reveals himself by stepping out of the tree line.

Guess like that.

Frisk’s shoulder begin to heave violently as they stand at the lip of a wooden bridge with a large gate with incredibly wide bars stretching across it.

“Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?” Asriel continues from behind Frisk’s heavily bobbing form. “Turn around and shake my hand.”

Frisk takes a glance over their shoulder.

And immediately folds in half.

Asriel puts the flats of his palms up into the air as he shrugs. “Heheh… The old bridge of folding laughter trick.”

“They shouldn’t really be rolling around in the snow like that,” Toriel comments worryingly. “Can you tell Grillby to prepare some warm blankets once Frisk arrives at Snowdin, Aofil?”

“I’m more worried about their inability breathe currently,” they reply, which might not have been the best thing to say at this moment, as Toriel snaps her head back towards the computer, her wig following along shortly afterwards as if spun on the top of a spinning top. “I’m kidding,” Aofil says hurriedly with a quick lurch forward of their head to get back Toriel’s attention. “Was just a joke.”

“Right...”

Quite the pair of lungs in Frisk, to be honest. They show no sign of their laughter slowing down even the slightest.

Asriel shoots a quick look at the camera while nodding his head towards his wailing sibling curling up into a giggling ball. “Anyways,” he says after clearing his throat. “You’re a human, right?” As a courtesy, Asriel takes Frisk’s hat in his hand before they crush it by their wringing and guffawing. “That’s hilarious.”

He hangs it on one of his horn as if on a hat stand.

“I’m Sans,” he introduces while offering to help Frisk up on their feet. “Sans the skeleton,” he introduces properly as he lifts up a still chuckling Frisk up. He tilts his head down so that Frisk can take the hat off and place it back on their own head.

“Quite the furry looking skeleton you are, Sans,” they notice as they tilt their hat down as Mettaton suggested.

“Heh,” he shrugs, causing Frisk to laugh again. “Can’t fault me for being beautiful. Funny thing, actually, I’m supposed to be on watch for humans right now.”

“Is that so?” Frisk challenges after getting their laughter back in control, even though just for a moment.

Asriel brushes off a couple of mustard stains off his white shirt. “But...y’know… I don’t really care about capturing anybody.”

“Now your brother-”

“Now my brother, Papyrus,” Asriel almost shouts to overtake Frisk’s voice. “He’s a human-hunting fanatic!”

Frisk turns their head around.

“Hey, actually,” Asriel still continues. “I think that’s him over there.” He lifts his finger and hovers it right next to Frisk’s cheek.

“I don’t see-” Frisk begins smugly as they turn their head back, only to get a bony claw poking into their cheek. They shoot Asriel a pair of lowered brows, but he just shrugs it off.

“I have an idea.” Asriel throws his arm out towards the gate thingy behind Frisk. “Go through this gate thingy.” Frisk ain’t gonna fall for the same trick twice though, and they keep their head facing Asriel’s painted smile. “Yeah, go right through.”

Frisk shakes their head slowly.

“My bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.”

Frisk takes a step back, still with their eyes locked hard on Asriel’s. He follows along until the path turns wider.

“Quick,” he warns while spinning Frisk around with their shoulders, “behind that conveniently-shaped lamp!”

“Is that the same one that was there when Frisk first went through?” Aofil asks their surrounding monsters, their furrowed forehead mirroring Frisk’s in both depth and color. “Because it’s a bit too small for them now.”

Frisk scratches their cheek as they’re quite befuddled how to even begin folding themselves behind the no-longer-conveniently-shaped lamp. They lift their knee to their torso, but that just… 

Hm…

“They’re not as flexible as a Moldessa,” Aofil feels that they have to inform the monsters as Frisk bends their arm underneath their knee. They throw an aggressive nod at the computer screen. “Look!”

Frisk falls over on their side as their attempt to knot their limbs into shape proves fruitless. Their hat ploffs gently onto their face, and they sigh through it.

Asgore takes a step back out of view as Asriel shoos him away. Frisk needs a minute or so to figure this out, it seems. After managing to untie their limbs, Frisk throws their hands out at Asriel, who puts one of his own out of his jacket’s pocket and on his chest.

“I’m not the one about to be captured,” he defends in the same way the gate-thingy defended against intruders. 

He’s enjoying this way too much.

“They don’t seem to be giving up,” MK notices. “Not a lot they’ve given up on in life, to be honest. They’ve weathered worse things than this.”

Frisk again trips on their own swiveled legs and awkwardly bent arms, falling face first into the snow with their hat sailing quietly behind and landing just as softly. A puff of snow cascades into the air as they drag a determined huff.

“I DO WONDER IF FRISK COULD’VE HIDDEN BEHIND THAT LAMP BACK IN THEIR YOUNGER DAYS!” Papyrus thinks out loud loudly. “IT WOULD EXPLAIN WHY THEY ALWAYS ELUDED ME WHEN WE PLAYED HIDE AND SEEK!”

“That was more you refusing to look behind the curtains despite their shoes being clearly visible though,” Undyne teases with a chuckle.

“BUT I WASN’T SEEKING FOR THEIR SHOES, WERE I?” Papyrus shoots back.

“He has a point,” Aofil fuels with an approving nod and challenging look over to Undyne.

“You stay out of this,” she retorts quickly.

Aofil lifts up their foot in response. “Because I don’t have any shoes on?”

Before Undyne can once again make their disapproval heard loud and clear, Toriel hushes her and points towards the computer screen. Frisk has given up on trying to fold themselves behind the lamp, and is now in the process of making a snowman roughly their size. 

Roughly as in only-a-bit-convenient shaped.

Once Frisk manages to roll up enough snow, Asriel moseys on over and draws three horizontal lines on the head of the snowman. Two for the eyes and one for the mouth. Frisk leans around from behind the head and shoots a disapproving look to their brother, who adds a couple more lines to the snowman’s forehead.

“I thought I was supposed to be hidden, Sans the skeleton?” Frisk accuses.

“You will be if you bring your head back behind the snowman.”

“Frisk is gonna throw the head of the snowman at Asriel once Asgore’s scene is over,” Aofil remarks. “You can see it in Frisk’s eyes.”

The rest of the monsters turn their perplexed heads towards Aofil.

“You can,” they reiterate with a single nod. “Or I can, since I’m a human,” they try again.

That seems to have gotten the message across, and the monsters nod to themselves while mumbling that it sounds true to their ears.

Dear oh dear...

Why does Aofil love them so?

“Sup, bro?” Asriel asks as Asgore comes strutting in from the right on the monitor. His cape flutters with each proud and swaggering step fueled by annoyance.

“You know what’s up, brother!” he shouts back accusingly. The boom of his voice is still enough to rattle both the speakers in the Lab, and the spheres of snow of the snowman despite him pitching it up a few octaves.

Aofil’s not gonna be worried about their sinuses being clogged anytime soon if Asgore continues with that voice. It’s already beginning to loosen. “You got a tissue?” they decide to ask Toriel.

“It’s been eight days,” Asgore continues while puffing out his chest, stretching his foam breastplate to the brink of bursting, “and you still haven’t recalibrated... Your. Puzzles!”

Frisk puts a bit more snow on the neck of their shielding snowman before it begins to collapse. 

Aofil only now realizes that they don’t have any hands to take Toriel’s offered tissue that she absentmindedly offers over her shoulder.

Why does they always keep on forgetting about that small detail?

“You just hang around outside your station! What are you even doing?!?”

The head of the snowman falls off. A wet crash rings out as it lands, and the dented visage crumbles beyond recognition. Asriel and Asgore turn their collective heads over to the grotesquely mangled head lying still on the frozen ground.

Snow to snow.

“Yooo! Cool!” MK shouts with eyes widened in awe. “Live decapitation!”

Toriel’s harsh and glaring look has him cowering as if his head is up next to be lost. He’s wise in being afraid.

Aofil wouldn’t put it past Toriel after MK’s comment.

Frisk timidly replaces the snowman’s head with their own. They roll their hand to motion Asgore and Asriel to continue their spiel.

“Staring at this...” Asriel beings again slowly. He points through the pocket in his jacket towards Frisk. “...Snowman. It’s really cool. Do you wanna look?”

Frisk again has to hold onto their snowy body as Asgore stamps his boot into the ground, violently shaking everything in the near vicinity. Avalanches of snow fall from the treetops, throwing up clouds of glittering snow as they torrent into the ground. “No!” he shouts, finally knocking over the not-so-conveniently-shaped-any-longer lamp. It lands with a petered splat.

“I don’t have time for that!!” Asgore continues while continuing his stomping. The picture on the computer screen begins to wobble as the resonance begins to build up. “What if a human comes through here!?!”

“I want to be ready!!!” is the last the camera picks up before popping loose from its mount and falling down. Streaks of green, black, and white whirl past it until it plops into a snow mound at the base of the tree it was mounted in. It’s still pointing towards the stage despite its many rotations.

“Lucky,” Aofil voices. 

“I should’ve closed my eyes,” Alphys laments as she puts her hand on her stomach. She’s handed a glass of water from Sans which she gladly accepts.

Asgore’s stomping calms down a bit. “I will be the one!” he also shouts a bit quieter. “I must be the one! I will capture a human! Then, I, the great Papyrus...”

Papyrus drags an awestruck sigh hearing Asgore say his catchphrase.

“Will get all the things I utterly deserve!” Asgore proudly proclaims with a hand firmly pressed against his chest. His painted smile is lit up like the midday sun, and his small cape flows as if carried on the winds of glory. “Respect...”

“RECOGNITION...” Papyrus mouths along.

“I will finally be able to join the Royal Guard!”

“I DID!”

“People will. Ask. To. Be. My. Friend!”

Papyrus glances over his party of friends all nodding at him, and he drags a very happy sob.

“I will bathe in a shower of kisses every morning.”

“I...um...yeah...hm…,” the friends hum in unison.

“Bathe in a shower?” MK then thinks out loud.

“WE HAD A COMBINED ONE IN SNOWDIN!” Papyrus explains.

MK nods. “Right, gotcha.”

“Hmm...” Asriel pretends to think, seemingly unfazed by his father’s pretend tantrum. “Maybe this...” He walks over and puts the lamp back up on its conveniently-shaped feet. “Maybe this lamp will help you?”

“Sans!!” Asgore shouts as he begins stamping his foot again, knocking over the lamp another time. “You are not helping! You lazybones!! All you do is sit and bone...boondooo...” He sneakily pulls on his mitten while narrowing his eyes down on a note stuck underneath. “Boondoggle! You get lazier and lazier every day!!!”

“And what about the shed you promised you’d have repainted by the summer’s end, my dear King?” Toriel mutters out in a chuckle.

“Hey, take it easy,” Asriel replies to Asgore tapping his foot impatiently. “Befur you know it, I’ll be done with the puzzles.”

The eyes in the Lab turn to the real Sans. Or one of the two real Sanses, judging by Asriel’s quips.

“Don’t be so furious,” Asriel finishes off.

“prince wanted something new,” Sans defends.

Sure…

“Sans!” Asgore shouts after a second of confusion.

“Come on,” Asriel smiles back. “You’re smiling.”

“I am and I hate it!” Asgore sighs, the wind from it flapping the hood on Asriel’s blue jacket. “Why does someone as great as me have to do so much just to get some recognition.”

“Wow, sounds like you’re really working yourself...”

Again Sans is bombarded with pairs of eyes.

“Down to the bone.”

The eyes narrow, perplexed.

“couldn’t figure out something for that one.”

“Ugh!!!” Asgore throws out a bit too harshly for his throat. He coughs a couple of times from it. “I will attend to my puzzles. As for your work? Put a little more effort into it. Cartilage wasn’t built in a day, but it was built with effort!!!!”

Wait a second…

“WHAT?” Papyrus asks the baffled faces staring at him, including his own brother. “I CAN MAKE JOKES TOO!” he reminds his friends as Asgore wholeheartedly laughs in the background. “ASGORE ASKED SO NICELY! HOW COULD I SAY NO?”

Fair enough.

After a last laugh, Asgore exits the stage, hurrying off towards his next position with a thick cloud of snow following his hurried gait.

“I do believe it would be best if you got into your position now, Aofil,” Toriel says over her shoulder before turning to Sans. “So that Sans’ free to move Asgore and Asriel where they’re needed.”

“Sure,” Aofil shrugs. “I’ll get going.” They lean their shoulder down to Sans. “Anytime, bud.”

Sans puts a hand on Aofil’s shoulder, and a moment later the two find themselves in the middle of Snowdin. Less than a moment after that, the biting cold makes itself known to Aofil, and they bless the thick sweater that they’re wearing.

“Before you leave,” Aofil says as Sans let’s go of their shoulder. He tilts his head up curiously. “When you said that you planted the prince before?”

“yes?”

“Was that to gauge if they would reacted to Flowey?”

Sans’ head tilts to the side.

A very guilty tilt.

“might be best if i don’t answer that, to be honest. you’re looking at me like i’ve already have.”

That Aofil does.

They’re quickly left alone as evident by a whirl of snow from where Sans just stood dancing up their body and settling just inside Aofil’s collar.

And Aofil can’t dig it out since they don’t have use of their hands right now.

Dammit…

“Could you...” Aofil tries with one of the puppets, but they don’t get a response back. Guess they haven’t been activated just yet.

Come to think of it, it’s really pretty dang freaky standing alone in a town square with hunched over monsters around them.

Actually, it’s absolutely enormously freaky!

Aofil’s gonna head inside Grillby’s for them moment. Gotta get those blankets, right?

They hurry towards the small taverns as if their tail was just set on fire.

Inside, Grillby pauses his cleaning of a glass for a brief moment as Aofil enters with hurried steps. They check around for any other visitors, but the tavern is empty. Same as the bar, bar Grillby.

“You’re you, right?” Aofil asks as they walk up to the flaming monster. “Not a puppet?”

Grillby raises a fiery eyebrow as he run his eyes up and down Aofil. With a slow push, he readjusts his glasses. “Not since the last time I checked, no,” he says. His voice is a bit more...normal than Aofil would expect it to be. Not as crackly as his hair or as hypnotically dancing as the flames making up his form. “Anything I can get you, human?”

“Toriel asked me to ask you for a couple of warm blankets,” Aofil relays as they jump up on a bar stool, using their tail to find balance on it. “For Frisk. I guess a couple for Asgore and Asriel as well. Toriel is probably tearing the hair in her wig out for not asking me to ask you for one for those two too.”

“I have a couple at the ready,” Grillby informs with a quick nod to the kitchen. “I’ve had my business here for quite a while. Been prepared against the cold for just as long.”

Good to hear.

“Anything you want yourself, human?” 

“I can take a cup of tea, if you have,” Aofil orders with a smile. “Need to calm my throat before I begin with the acting.”

Grillby reaches behind him for the teapot already simmering calmly on a small fire. “This isn't the first time they've done something like this, by the way," he informs as he places the hot tea in front of Aofil. 

Again, why does Aofil always forget they can't use their arms... 

"How do you mean?" they ask to divert attention away from their disarmed situation. 

"There was this party they had a handful of autumns ago. The Prince was covered in black with a minty green robe and pointy hat. Something he’d figured out through some game he and his friends were playing during after hours in school. Cards, chess, or something." 

"Ok,” Aofil says while leaning in their lips against the lip of their teacup for a warm kiss.

"Frisk donned a ragged blue set of armor. They'd grown their hair out for some reason and it hang like disheveled drapes over their eyes." 

"Alright." 

"Toriel came over to my tavern up on the Surface to buy some food since she'd spent many hours getting the black out of Asriel's fur.”

“Did he use a dye meant for human hair or something?”

Grillby nods while blowing his flaming cheeks. “That he did.”

Oh boy…

“Toriel wouldn't say how many hours she struggled with it, but she did buy herself a drink that she sipped on for a while as she lamented what had happened earlier before heading home with the food."

Aofil's eyes widen, the yellow paint around their eyes stretching uncomfortably. "I see..." 

"Strangest was Undyne though," Grillby says with a hot exhale. "She wore a police uniform."

That doesn't... 

“With another eye." 

Oh... “Did it move?”

“I really wish it didn’t.” Grillby inspects the cleaned glass in his hand. “The things that scientist have made," he says under his breath. 

"Alphys?" Aofil shoots over, even though it's probably better if they didn't. 

"Yes, Alphys. Won’t stop going on about how she can help improve my business. Make it more efficient."

“If I had my hands free I’d raise my cup to that.”

Grillby snickers, a sharp orange line dragging across his lower face. “I appreciate the thought.”

“And I’m guessing when you got the question to attend Frisk’s birthday here that scene you just spoke of came rushing back to you?” Aofil pries while bending their neck down for another drink.

“Can’t be weirder than having the Queen come in and order a drink with hands and arms colored gray, sitting down with her head resting inside her palm, mumbling about how in the world she’s gonna get the bathtub cleaned up.”

“Did her hand leave an imprint on her cheek as she removed it afterwards?” Aofil asks with bathed breath. Please, please, please, let it have happened!

Grillby breathes in for dramatic effect. 

That bastard.

“Yes,” he finally says.

Yes! Oh! Perfect!

Aofil’s giggling has their tail pushing down onto the floorboards below to keep them from falling over.

The front door shakes, and through a nearby window Aofil sees Asriel and Asgore hurry along further into the town. They also spot the nearby puppets waking up and going on about their programmed business.

“You should probably head out now, human,” Grillby suggests. “I’ll keep your tea warm.”

“Thanks,” Aofil says as they jump down. “Gonna take a moment for me to get into character now.”

“Good luck with it,” Grillby cheers.

Aofil will give him some tip once their arms are back in their use.

Alright. Now to get into character and-

The door that Aofil opens flings into Frisk, and they stumble back while keeping one hand on their hat.

“Shi-” Aofil clears their throat. “Yooo!” they begin. “You’re a kid too, right?”

Frisk freezes. Aofil’s pitched up voice hits them harder than what the door into Grillby’s just did, and they blink.

Just blink.

“Oh...my...god...”


	151. Filibuster of puppets

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Frisk’s greedy inhale is like the desperate call of a sea of damned souls singing their lament, ringing out through the large cavern as if summoning more kin to their never ending torment.

Their laughter is a bit incongruous to that analogy though, but there’s really no other way Aofil’s ears can paint the horrible gasp the wriggling laughter machine just pulled.

Seems that they calmed down a bit now though. “Yooo! You done, fellow kid?” Aofil asks with a slight tilt of their head to test.

“Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Guess not.

Aofil blows through their lips as they lean their head inside Grillby’s again to check the clock.

Alright, Frisk’s laughter it’s getting quite silly now. It’s been like five minutes since Aofil bumped into them! Aofil drags their head out of the warm tavern again, shaking it in sync with the swaying door.

Pretty sure Grillby had a question he wanted to ask, probably even multiple ones, but Aofil wouldn’t hear any with Frisk’s current howling of their seemingly endless amusement.

Endless with breaks for breathing, that is.

Still rolling around in the cold snow to boot. Barely able to breathe, snow covering their face, gifted hat almost getting crushed as they roll around. They’ve made what can only be described as a trench in the snow by now. A hole, almost. 

A snow sarcophagus.

Although its inhabitant is very much alive. Heaving in air, and heaving it out even harder in unbelievably unfiltered laughter. Just...pure unadulterated guffawing.

Unadult alright, pretty childish now at this point, or something. Aofil can’t really think clearly with Frisk’s exasperated exhales occupying all vacant space in their ears. Not that they’re annoyed or anything. They fully well knew that Frisk would have a reaction akin to this.

As much as this though?

That they didn’t plan for.

Had it been up to them they’d let Frisk laugh it off, even if it would take the rest of the day if they continue like they are doing right now. Aofil would have time to get into that ‘I Woke Up Human’ sequel they’ve been putting off for quite a while now, even if they’d be forced to flip the pages with their mouth.

Or tail?

Thing is though, Aofil knows that a certain Boss Monster mom is watching Frisk rolling around in the wet snow in clothes already wet and cold from the previous time they flopped down onto the slippery slit. Toriel was quite worried about Frisk catching a cold before, so she’s probably already on her way with fireballs blossoming in either hand to warm up and dry off Frisk.

Aofil has to be careful not to make themselves imagine Toriel dressed up as them running with-

No. No. No!

Stop. Before they join in with Frisk.

Aofil checks over their shoulder towards Waterfall, but there’s no bright orange glimmer hurrying close.

Yet.

That won’t do though if Toriel comes running in with manifested motherly warmth in either hand.

It’ll ruin the surprise!

Besides, there’s a monster that can make drying fire much closer. Just behind one door that’s less than a shoulder’s width away from Aofil’s, to be exact. Alas, they’re not quite handy at carrying at the moment.

Hm…

Aofil’s tail produces soft pats as it bounces gently behind them as they think. 

Wait… Oh for-

The patting stops as Aofil cranes their neck up in an annoyed groan.

Constant aloofness! All the damn time from Aofil today. Maybe their costume is a bit tight around their head or something?

Curiously, they angle their tail up behind them. It does look like it could hold Frisk’s weight. Maybe? Aofil tries to bend it into the shape of a lasso...sorta. A hook might be enough? As long as they can get some form of grip it should be fine.

Them inspecting their tail has Frisk catching a second...no...third? Must be fourth wind at this point. Their howl once again has the puppets in the village turning their collective heads, and once again a cold shiver runs up Aofil’s spine as they see the unanimous turning. One or two would’ve been fine, but all of them? 

Aofil’s tail shivers to boot.

Even if they’re not wearing any.

Or does...whatever it is called that they’re wearing on their human feet to make them look like large yellow scaly paws count as boots?

“Tail!” Frisk shouts.

Oh right, getting Frisk inside before hypothermia sets in.

It’s the only word they’ve said properly in the span of their laughter. A good sign that they did, Aofil feels. Means they still have oxygen to spare. It’s a good thing Frisk has done their workout with Undyne or else they’d be unconscious. Blue like Undyne, but not in the good way.

Maybe Aofil should hurry up with getting Frisk inside before Toriel’s mom senses gives her the power to read minds.

Carefully, Aofil angles their tail next to Frisk’s leg. They move their hips as if trying to fit into a pair of jeans a couple of sizes too small, and in turn their tail begins to bend in the vague shape of a hook. It’s quite difficult with Frisk kicking their leg with each chortle and fit, but steadily enough, Aofil manages to encircle their tail around Frisk’s leg.

“Sorry if it feels a bit weird,” they apologize before taking a timid step to see if their tail’s grip will hold. Might be a bit of chafing on Frisk’s leg, but it should be fine. “Lift your head for me, please,” they ask their snickering baggage. “So that you don’t hurt yourself too much on the step.”

“Back so...” Grillby’s words trail off like a burning torch being submerged into water as he spots Aofil struggling with the door with their shoulder with Frisk in their tail’s tow. The color of his fire changes, turning a bit more brown as he removes his glasses to clean them off.

Doesn’t change the fact that Aofil is dragging in a howling Frisk through his front door using a prosthetic tail while painted and costumed like MK.

Grillby cleans his glasses one more time in another futile attempt to get more clarity.

“The blankets?” Aofil asks while nodding behind them to Frisk in their infinite laughter.

A few seconds of nothing but Frisk’s giggling and greedy gasps pass before Grillby remounts his glasses and heads into the kitchen. Faint questioning muttering can be heard along with shuffling of cloth.

Aofil unhooks their tail and lets Frisk’s foot drop to the floor. “I’ll get you some dry clothes as well,” they inform as they pass by the choking head. “We’ll resume when you feel you’re finished.”

“Y-y-eah!” Frisk manages to squeeze out of them in between their heavy fits. Their fist slam against the floorboards as they roll over to their side with their other hand pressed hard on their stomach.

And then, a silence falls like a dropped boulder dislodged from the cavern ceiling.

Is Frisk calming down?

No, they’re not. They were just breathing in deeply.

Aofil halts at the front door when they hear Grillby come back from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna see if I can’t get Frisk some dry clothes,” they explain as Grillby begins laying out the blankets for Frisk. He extends a flaming thumb, and Aofil heads outside.

They stop before taking their first step back out into the glistening and white landscape stretching into a dark horizon.

Oh…

Frisk’s hat. Somehow it managed to keep itself from getting rolled over. Looks to be intact, but Aofil’s expertise in ethereally constructed accessories might not be enough to properly assess the damage should there be any.

It’s standing up on its own, so Aofil’s gonna hazard a guess that it’s fine. They’ve gambled on worse things and come out on top.

Like how they’re gonna bring the hat back to Frisk.

“This too,” Aofil informs as they whip their tail inside the tavern with Frisk’s hat on the tip. It lands softly just next to Frisk shaking torso.

Damn, Aofil’s gonna miss having this tail.

Might as well use it as much as possible now that they can!

They shut the door to Grillby’s with it as they head out into Snowdin again.

Oh yes, that felt good.

“Isn’t my little Cinnamon just the cutest?” wonders one of the puppets in the form of a bunny monster as Aofil approaches it. The bunny smiles down at a smaller bunny in a leash, squeaking cutely as it bounces.

“Yeah,” Aofil agrees absently. “Listen, whoever it is closest the controls?”

The bunny’s mouth moves as if possessed before opening unnaturally wide for a second. Unhinged is too small a word for how it stretches the skin and fur around the mouth, as the metallic skull inside moves without concordance to the skin outside it, proving that the creature is not one of dust and magic, but of disjointed-

“Y-yes? Alphys here,” the puppet speaks with a smile that’s sudden and sending ripples throughout fur of the head, ending in a sinister dance of the two long ears stretching high like antennas.

Creepy as all hell…

“Could you send Sans or maybe Riverperson over with some dry clothes for Frisk?” Aofil asks after shaking the creepy feeling off. They lift up their tail behind their back, bending the tip to point over towards Grillby’s. “They have a couple of blankets around them at the moment, but I really think they should use a new set of dry clothes, just in case. They’re gonna head through Waterfall before they reach Hotland, right? I know they didn’t get a cold when they did it the first time, but this time around they’ve been rolling around in the snow for the better part of their journey.”

The mouth of the bunny monster again twists and turns unnaturally as the microphone is moved over to someone else in the Lab.

“How are they?” the bunny puppet wonders worryingly. “How’s Frisk? Any fever?”

Not that Aofil would be able to feel for it, and they might be racist yet again, but Grillby might be a bit biased when it comes to heat to tell if Frisk has a fever too. “They’re fine at the moment,” Aofil decides it’s best to say, “um...”

“It’s Toriel,” the bunny informs with a quick nod.

“Right, Toriel.” Aofil should’ve guessed it was, to be honest. “Well, Frisk’s laughing,” they continue while looking over their shoulder, “but you probably already know that.”

“We saw on the computer screen, yes,” the bunny again nods. “And heard!” it suddenly shouts with a different inflection to its voice. Aofil takes a step back in reflex. “Yes, and heard,” the puppet acknowledges with Toriel’s soft manner of speech again.

Wait...heard?

How much did they hear? More importantly, how much did Toriel hear? And much did she hear from inside Grillby’s?

“What I spoke to Grillby about...” Aofil prefaces while dragging air through their clenched teeth. How are they gonna play this? And why are they thinking about it after they opened their mouth?

“Did you speak to Grillby about something?” the puppet wonders with one of its ears bending down. “We were monitoring Frisk doing puzzles with Asgore and Asriel. The two are fine too, right?” 

Oh! Thank! God!

“Yeah, I think so. They’re waving at me at the moment.” Waving for Aofil to come over, yes, but still waving. Technically, Aofil isn’t lying. They mouth as widely as they can that they’re talking to Toriel towards Asgore taking a couple of steps closer. Not quite as more-than-unhinged like what the bunny puppet did, but it seems to get the job done as Asgore spins on his heel as if on ice and walks back to the snow covered house of Papyrus and Sans while extending his thumb over his shoulder to Aofil. 

The puppet again opens its mouth wide, and Aofil cranes their neck as far away from it as possible before they go deaf. “The puzzle solving part of their brain has grown as much as they have!” the puppet shouts with a cheer.

Must’ve been Papyrus.

The small bunny at the puppet’s feet begins to wrap itself around Aofil’s foot, and it’s only because of the faded giggling emerging steadily from it that Aofil notices. They step out of the leash spun around their ankle before it can be dragged tight. 

“Dammit,” the small rabbit curses.

Must’ve been Undyne.

Alright, before everyone in the Lab takes control of the entire puppet population her in Snowdin village to create a town meeting of possessive monsters, each one opening its mouth worse than the bunny did as their bodies slowly saunter up with microphone feedback oozing out like a ritual to steal Aofil’s soul.

Just thinking about it has Aofil wanting to tear out their soul and throw it as far away as they can. Maybe toss it in one of the presents under the tree and hide it there.

Or maybe just pop over to Grillby for a beer and wait for it all to blow over.

In any case, they’re starting to feel the Snowdin cold creep through their sweater, so they should get the show moving again.

“Who brings the clothes?” Aofil sighs out. “Riverperson or Sans? Should I head over to the dock and-”

“Already delivered it,” the puppet informs, almost smugly.

“Sans?”

“Now that I’m back in the Lab, yes. When I delivered I was Asriel, of course. Gotta keep up the show, right?”

Good.

“Right?” the puppet asks again, leaning into Aofil. 

Oh they know what Sans is playing at, but they’re not gonna dignify that with an answer.

Aofil nods to the large tree lit up with a multitude of lamps in various blinking colors. “I’ll get back into position then.”

“You do that,” the bunny says before its head slumps over for a quick second. It then shoots up again with a wide smile on its lips. “Bun-bun-bun-bun,” it sings gladly.

So. Damn. Creepy…

Aofil heads over to the...birthday tree? Must be that. There’s a yellow globe with Frisk’s features on it at the top and everything. It has to be a birthday tree, right?

“Awful teens tormented a local monster by-”

“Wrong human,” Aofil states as they pass a blue bear busy with arranging presents at the foot of the tree. 

“So we started giving that monster presents to make it feel better,” the bear continues, smiling earnestly to Aofil as it shares its tale.

“Still the wrong human,” Aofil...no...wait…

Why are they arguing with it? It’s a puppet.

“S-s-sorry, A-Aofil,” the bunny puppet apologizes as it saunters carefully towards the yellow painted human. “I o-only h-had t-time t-to program in h-human detection, not b-between humans d-detection.”

“Now it’s a tradition to put presents underneath a decorated tree,” the blue bear happily continues to explain while motioning proudly up and down the tree with a large and fuzzy hand.

Blissfully unaware that Aofil isn’t paying it the slightest mind.

“It’s fine, Alphys,” Aofil assures to the bunny puppet looking down at its feet. Aofil does so too in case the pet puppet tries to trip them again. “I’ll just tune it out.”

“G-good.”

And now to look away as to not see the bunny seize as it goes back to its programming. Ignoring it fully, not thinking about-

Oh for…

What’s he doing here?

Mettaton bows his head slightly as he passes Aofil. “How was my performance?” he asks while spinning his purple robe around. “Besides absolutely and utterly gorgeous and fabulous, Aofil deary?” 

Aofil can’t help but notice the footsteps leading deeper into Snowdin, continuing along towards the Ruins. Not Frisk’s imprints in the snow, but those shaped more like large paws very similar to what Mettaton has on his feet.

Some would even say exactly similar, Aofil being one of them.

“Did you walk all the way here?” they pry slyly. “Why didn’t Sans shortcut you back?”

“Great,” Mettaton says with a smile less natural than what the bunny puppet had. “Question! I can forgive the complete lack of communication during the performance as the others having the greatest of faith in my acting abilities, as they should.” His hands clasp the sides of his robe, wringing it like a wet towel.

Wetter than the depths of Waterfall with how much he’s doing it.

“Maybe they thought you were so in the role you’d rather stay in Toriel’s house,” Aofil offers as an explanation, despite having less than no belief in it. “Method acting even after your performance?”

“If you think I’m gonna pay you for that advice I’ll have you know that it’s a clause in MK’s contract, not a bonus.”

Alright, yeah. Bad call on Aofil for appealing to Mettaton, that’s on them.

“Guess that hospitality and generosity was only part of the act then,” they shoot back like poison from their tongue while dragging a plastered grin. “You almost convinced me there, M.”

“You always find ways to impress me,” Mettaton returns with a surprising amount of sincerity. As in, genuine. “If it weren’t for the nose, hair, cheeks, voice, a bit of flubbiness.”

A bit of what now?

“I’d confuse you for MK at a glance, maybe even two,” Mettaton congratulates while patting warmly on Aofil’s shoulder. “You really should sign up for one of my acting classes, maybe even some of my shows!”

Aofil recognizes that gentle movement of Mettaton’s hand closing in on his chest. It’s gonna open any moment now to reveal a contract. He must have a printer inside of him to print a relevant contract by a moment’s notice. 

Aofil recognizes, and they don’t like that they do. With a quick tug of their shoulder, they break free before Mettaton can...persuade...otherwise. “I’m busy,” they inform like they would a person waving a poll about something Aofil has less than zero interest in a busy mall when they just want to get across to the hardware store on the other side to find the specific battery used in their monster crafted fire alarm that for some damn reason isn’t available in the general store down the road from their house because of reasons far and beyond any knowledge, forbidden or otherwise, to man, or monster.

A handful of snow falls from a decorated branch of the birthday tree. It lands on Aofil’s head, and instantly turns into steam.

At least the Snowdin cold has now backed away from Aofil, mostly out of fear and hesitation to be near the suddenly fuming human.

Alright…

Calm down...

“I haven’t even told you when my classes or shows are,” Mettaton retorts as if heartbroken.

As. If.

“Busy,” Aofil repeats, their lips curling back through raw instinct. “Busy busy.”

Mettaton seems unfazed by the now deep orange color on Aofil’s face, and he clears his throat. “There’s no reason to be afraid about your abilities, Aof darling,” Mettaton assures with a motherly voice borrowed, or plagiarized, from his Toriel performance. “If you feel like you want to prove your value to me first, sweetie, then of course I will give you space for that.”

Not even close, Mettaton.

“I’ll leave you to it, Aof...MK.” 

Mettaton bows with a wink and heads off to the nearby dock. Quiet humming soon appears for a brief while before disappearing again.

Aofil shakes their head.

“Awful teens tormented a local monster by hanging decorations in its antlers.”

“I told you, I’m not-”

Oh, it’s Frisk the blue bear is talking to…

Aofil clears their throat as they pretend not to notice Frisk. “Yooo!” they act surprised when Frisk pass by them. “You’re a-”

Frisk waves hurriedly with their hand to get Aofil to stop talking. Their other is firmly planted on their mouth to keep their chortle in. 

Oh...alright…

Frisk shakes their head as residual giggling catches up with them. 

Seems like Frisk is gonna go straight past Aofil. Fair enough for now, but once in Waterfall though? Ho boy, that’s gonna be interesting!

And speaking of interesting, Aofil should get something for what’s coming up. While they hear Asgore engage a smoke machine as Frisk takes a peek inside the Librabry, Aofil heads over back to Grillby’s. “Come with me,” they ask the blue bear, who follows after wrapping up the last of its present.

“Awful teens-”

“Yes, yes,” Aofil interrupts.

They hold the door open for the bear and motion with a slight nod for him to head inside the tavern.

“Could I bother for the rest of my tea?” Aofil asks Grillby hanging up the last piece of Frisk’s wet clothes above him on a clothesline. “Just give it to my friend here to hold.”

Grillby is a bit hesitant at the notion.

“I’ll ask him to help you with the laundry afterwards.”

Suddenly Grillby’s not so hesitant. He even refills Aofil’s cup, and adds a biscuit on the tea plate which he hands over to the blue bear, who takes it without really knowing what’s going on.

“Back out again,” Aofil orders before pointing with their tail towards the door.

“Human!” Asgore’s booming voice echoes throughout Snowdin.

Aofil takes with them a present that seems sturdy enough to act as a chair by wrapping their tail around it. They drag it to the edge of the small village, where the silhouette of Asgore stands dark and menacingly inside the white mist flowing like a liquid theater curtain, eager to disperse and begin the show.

“Powerful! Popular! Prestigious!!”

Aofil nods for the bear to sit down next to them.

“That’s Papyrus!”

They bend the arm of the blue puppet in front of them so that they don’t have to strain their neck too far.

“The newest member...”

They take a sip from their tea and a nibble of the biscuit.

“Of the Royal Guard!”

Because this is gonna be good!


	152. Top of the heart

“Mind if I join you?”

Another sturdy present is placed next to Aofil. A blue one with an orange ribbon tied neatly on top of it.

Until Asriel squishes it as he sits down on the present, that is. It bends as more of his weight is put on it, but it keeps steady.

Somehow.

“I don’t have anything for you, unfortunately,” Aofil regrets to inform. “Didn’t know you’d be joining me. Otherwise I’d ask Grillby for another cup of tea.”

“And had your friend carry it for you?”

The blue bear waves friendly with its free hand to Asriel, who waves back. The bear’s expression turns neutral, and Aofil turns away from it before it unhinges its jaw again. Judging by Asriel’s mortified and disgusted expression, he didn’t have time to avert his now stained eyes. 

“D-did you find the remote?” the blue bear asks with a stutter that’s jarringly incompatible with its otherwise warm and calm voice. “I p-put it in S-Sans’ m-mailbox if you d-didn’t-”

“I got it,” Asriel interrupts with a quick wave of a black remote adorned with rubber buttons strangely labeled. He flashes it to the bear before pocketing it back into his jacket.

“G-good, g-good,” the bear stutters out again. “Yes?”

Aofil and Asriel glance at each other. Neither of them said anything, so why the inquisitive ‘yes’?

“Toriel wonders if y-you also f-found the p-power bar for F-Frisk?”

Asriel nods. “Yup, I did.”

The bear’s smile twists as it chuckles uncomfortably now that the conversation’s stopped. “W-we’ll b-be monitoring t-the fight n-now.”

“You do that,” Aofil wishes well. “We’ll watch it from here. Shouldn’t be interfering, right?”

“I g-guess n-not,” the puppet answers reservedly. “J-just make s-sure you get into y-your n-next position in t-time.”

“We will.”

The bear makes one last nod before its expression turns neutral again. Asriel and Aofil’s neck turn simultaneously, craning as far away as possible.

“Awful teens have-”

“I know,” Aofil says with hurry as they ease their neck back forward.

“Interesting that it doesn’t fall for your disguise,” Asriel ponders with a lowered brow pointed at the blue bear puppet holding Aofil’s saucer with accompanying cup of tea and cookie in its outstretched arm. He reaches into his other jacket pocket, and takes out a half eaten power bar that he unwraps by only his thumb before taking another hearty bite out of it. “Is that because Alphys’ programming is really good or is it because Radentim lack of good costuming and make up?” he asks with his food almost escaping as his tongue flickers to form his words. “Would be best if it was the former. I’m pretty sure Radentim snipped her and or his pair of scissors right next to my ear to threaten me rather than to trim down some unruly hairs.”

“Wasn’t that power bar meant for Frisk?” Aofil feels that they have to ask. Radentim being angry and all that they can handle, that’s not a big deal. Asriel eating the power bar meant for Frisk, ordered by Toriel, no less? 

Now that’s a bit more important to get to the bottom to.

“I’m hungry,” Asriel answers before taking another bite. It might sooth his appetite, but it doesn’t the curiosity blossoming from Aofil’s raised eyebrow. “I’m hungry,” Asriel repeats, hoping that it’ll convince Aofil if he just says it one more time.

Turns out it doesn’t.

What a surprise.

“But your sibling, who’s been walking through Snowdin solving puzzles and such, isn’t hungry?” Aofil challenges as they extend their eyebrow further up.

“Dad and I have been running ahead of Frisk to get into position. We haven’t the luxury of Sans’ shortcut or Papyrus’...whatever it is that makes him untireable,” Asriel finishes off by blowing his cheeks up. He tops off his argument with a third large nibble of the honey-glazed chocolate bar with various nuts and flakes dotting it like a muddy pebble beach, confident that it’s enough to persuade Aofil.

Turns out it doesn’t.

What a surprise.

“What if Frisk gets hurt and needs the food to heal up?” Aofil postulates with a quick nod and slight tilt of their tail. Although, do they really believe that Asgore would put Frisk in danger with this quote unquote, fight of theirs? 

No, but maybe Asriel does?

Turns out he doesn’t.

What a surprise.

Asriel finishes off the power bar, wrapping the foil in his hand while scooting the last piece to the cheek opposite Aofil. “Here’s the thing,” he begins as he shoves the bundled wrapper into his already stained jacket. “I’m hungry.”

Yes, he said that just now. Third’s time not gonna be charm, Prince. Wouldn’t even work if Asriel was Prince Charming, which he isn’t at the moment looking like Sans after getting tarred and furred. Quite the antithesis to charming, to be perfectly honest. Aofil’s had kitchen towels less dirtied after their failed attempt at apple sauce a la Papyrus served with spaghetti. Par of the course for Asriel since he’s supposed to be like Sans, yes, but ironically stained is still very much stained.

Very, very much stained. 

“And Frisk will manage,” Asriel assures as he crosses his blue covered arms over his even more besmirched and besmudged undershirt. “We’ll be heading over to Grillby’s in a bit after their fight with dad, so it’ll be fine.”

“I’m supposed to be close by there, right?” Aofil’s not entirely sure if they were supposed to head to that tall patch of grass immediately.

Asriel runs the remainder of the flaky snack across his mouth back and forth as his eyes shoot up to the side to think. “Yes...” he says unconvincingly. “...I think?” The piece stops at the corner, teetering on falling out as his jaw falls down to allow his thinking “Uuuuuummmmmm...” to spill out. “Yes,” he says with a bit more conviction, his mouth clamping down and breaking the power bar into a light corn flake fall dripping down on his shirt. “At Sans’ old station at the Waterfall’s entrance. Then you’re off to talk a bit with MK to set up his reveal.” Asriel throws his thumb over his shoulder. “Frisk and I do a mock shortcut to Grillby where we-”

Cascading air tackles its way through Snowdin like an invisible tsunami, knocking over the presents not sat on by costumed monsters and humans, and almost taking with it the birthday tree in its violent reveal. Asriel remains unfazed by it, and Aofil manages to remain on their makeshift stool by pushing against the vicious wind with their tail.

“Alright,” Asriel says after blinking the gust and light shower of snow out of his eyes, “now they’re starting.”

Aofil manages to shake away the majority of snow fastened on their face, the rest they also blink out. Brought with it a bit of a chill, that burst, but it did also clear the fog surrounding Frisk and Asgore, which must’ve been its purpose. Still, quite chilly, so Aofil should have a bit more tea to warm themselves up. Unless the tea was blasted away from the sudden and rapid typhoon.

Which is was…

Fantastic.

The cup of tea and biscuit that the light blue bear was carrying is nowhere to be found, the only clue that it was ever existent is a trail of drops in the snow behind Aofil. They must’ve dodged it in the last second as they bent down against the wind. A bullet pattern in the shape of a porcelain cup flying at high velocity. Quite the impressive magic, to be honest. Would’ve knocked out a human should it hit one. The tea might’ve healed the damage up instantly afterwards, but it would’ve sent a pretty clear message.

Exactly what the message would say, Aofil has no clue, but it would be very legible being thrown at their face and all that.

The blue bear looks down at the empty saucer in its hand, blinks once, and then moves its head up to Aofil.

“Awful teens-”

“Go back to the tree,” Aofil mutters out. They were really looking forward to that tea. They can still slurp up some of it from the dotted snow behind them, but it was more the warmth rather than the taste that had them giddy.

Biscuit looked nice as well…

Aofil sighs.

The puppet happily brings along the empty saucer with it back to the tree. It stops as it scans for any loose presents in need of wrapping, but no presents are present under the tree. Scattered like leaves they litter the ground, walls, and roofs of Snowdin, and the bear begins to collect the colorful boxes back to where they belong.

“The puppets are a bit inconsistent with what they can and can’t do,” Aofil voices with a slight disgust to their tone. The image of the bunny puppet’s unhinged jaw is still prominent in their mind. “But I’m sure Alphys did her best. Never been one for programming myself.”

“Maybe we should focus more on the program about to happen?” Asriel shoots back with a quick nod to the now defogged area where Frisk and Asgore are standing. There’s a snow angel behind Frisk, and some of it is still sticking to the felt on their back.

So much for dry clothes…

Asriel produces from his blue, stained jacket pocket a remote, which he points towards his costumed father. “Ready for some GREAT PAPYRUSNESS?” he asks as he transitions his voice to that of the titular friend.

“Papyrus...ness?” drips from Aofil’s tongue like a slightly not-closed faucet in the middle of the night on the other side of the house.

“Better than Sans,” Asriel shrugs. “Could never imagine something as silly as Sans being equated in the same sentence to ness.”

True.

Asriel presses a button with a slight flair of his hand, and almost immediately, music begins to emerge around Frisk and Asgore, the two bouncing along to the beat of it on their knees. 

Aofil can’t help but whistle along to it, and Asriel joins them as soon as he pockets the remote.

“You’re blue now!” Asgore shouts with pride, producing a blue heart made out of paper-mâché from behind his back. He throws it to Frisk, who catches it with both of their hands. “That’s my attack!”

Asriel again points the remote towards Frisk, and with the press of another button, they’re forced down on one knee.

“Careful with their back,” Aofil sings out along with the music in half a chastise. “They’re not a kid anymore, remember,” they continue along singing with the beat.

Asriel waits for another four or so beats to pass while bobbing his head side to side, each one bringing with it a wider and wider grin. “They’re not as old as you are though, so it’s fine,” he also sings along, ending it with a crescendo only found in church choir.

Aofil’s angry muttering is drowned out by the suddenly irritating joy surrounding them, both from the jolly music, and Asriel’s proud and smug grin emphasizing the one painted on him. They mumble under their breath, but that only validates Asriel’s point further.

Dammit.

Frisk pushes themselves up on their feet again, stretching out their back as they hoist the blue heart up over their chest.

Asgore winks, sending out a red, almost, kinda, sorta, bone shaped trident towards Frisk. Just like with Mettaton’s attacks the tridents are harmless to Frisk, just bouncing off their body like snowflakes. It’s the paper-mâché heart that’s at stake here, but despite the weight of it, Frisk still manages to dodge the quote unquote, attacks.

“Nyeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!” Asgore guffaws heartily, his voice making the entire cavern quake as he angles his chest upwards with one balled mitten firmly placed at his side, and his other hanging thoughtlessly on his opposite side. 

The music picks up as Asriel summons another track with the help of his remote, and the bobbing of him and Aofil turns deeper along with it. The music is too good to ignore and be unhappy with, even if it brought with it a reminder of the curse that is the passage of time.

Aofil’s lips are gonna be chafed to hell and back if they keep licking them in this cold to continue their whistling, but it’s worth it for the spectacle. Asgore’s colorful tridents glide along the snow effortlessly, hovering just above the glistening white layer to not make any visible strokes in the snow, but close enough so that it creates waves of shimmering ice crystal on both sides of his red magic.

The red ships of bone glide along silently, each with a different height to it. Some tall, some short, with Frisk moving their heart to avoid getting hit.

But to err is human, and Frisk is very much a human.

The heart begins to jolt around inside Frisk’s hands, and they dance awkwardly along to keep it still in their grip.

Asgore dabs some MTT branded cream behind his ear.

The heart eventually calms down, and Frisk manages to get it under control before another wave of red bones hurry along towards them. This wave they manage to avoid without their heart trying to wrestle itself out of Frisk’s fingers.

“How is it doing that, by the way?” Aofil asks Asriel.

“Hm?” he answers, clearly busy with observing the fight between his sibling and bone painted father.

“The heart,” Aofil repeats with an inquisitive nod towards the dark blue object in Frisk’s hands. “How is it moving? Magic?”

Gotta be.

“Small jetpack inside it,” Asriel explains. 

Oh…

“Magical jetpack,” he corrects.

Ah!

“Pointing down to make it heavy, to the sides to makes it move, that sorta thing. Doesn’t have to actually be heavy, just have to emit a force downwards so that it feels heavy.”

Someone’s been paying attention to Aofil’s physics classes. Now ain’t that some magic.

“I have some control over it with my remote,” Asriel continues while balancing the bottom of the remote on his extended finger. He flips it once and catches it without as much as moving his finger. He wiggles his eyebrows to Aofil, but they just lowers theirs to the narcissistic boast Asriel displayed. “Make the heart spin, make it heavier, lighter, and so on,” he begins anew after his failed attempt to impress Aofil. “And speaking of that...”

Asriel touches a couple of buttons with the remote pointed at Frisk. The heart has them spinning around, maybe a bit too…

“Maybe a bit too quick?” Aofil wonders out loud as Frisk’s heart has their sweater beginning to lift up from the centripetal force caused by their accelerating spinning. “Asriel?” Aofil voices with a bit more urgency as Frisk begins to lose control of their footing. Worse than Undyne after half a unit of alcohol.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit!”

That’s quite a worrying statement that just hit Aofil’s ears like a runaway freight train filled with goods that were promised to not be delivered inside a fright train. Had it come from Frisk it’d be understandable, what with their uncontrollable spinning, but unfortunately it’s from Asriel.

The one supposedly in control of the uncontrollable spinning.

Him slamming the face of the remote into his palm while his eyes begin to bulge out of his panicked face dragged into a state of horrid expression tells a bit of a different story though. One that’s a bit too in medias res for Aofil’s taste, and they’re just watching!

“The button’s stuck!” Asriel screams through his gritted teeth. 

Stuck?

Aofil’s head shoot back to Frisk, who’s now up on one leg with the blue heart at the end of their outstretched arms. Streaks of blue, yellow, and brown hair whirl by with each rotation. Their fingers are locked together, they can’t let go! Asgore can’t approach either, if he grabs and holds Frisk it’ll snap their spine and neck!

“Mom’s gonna kill me!” Asriel laments as if it’s his last.

“You’re gonna kill Frisk before Toriel gets as much as a finger on you, Asriel,” Aofil retorts as their adrenaline begins to spike. They realize a bit too late that it might’ve not been the best thing to do. “Just...” Just do what? “Point it up or something? Down maybe? Give it to me!”

Asriel hands it over to Aofil who stretches out their their hand and...and...

Oh…

Right…

The two lock eyes, but their collective embarrassment is short lived, as the brief whizzing of a blue heart zips by just above them, whistling like a bullet as it passes over their head like a jet on afterburners. The heart slams into the upper half of the birthday tree, snapping it with an echoing crack that slowly calms in intensity as the now torn upper half of the tree sails merrily in the air, throwing decorations and breaking the cables for the colorful light bulbs, blinking out just before crashing into the deep snow with a deeper thud.

The top of the decorations, the porcelain sphere painted and molded like Frisk’s head, spins like a bowling ball in the snow, creating a layer of snowy protection that shatters as it slams against the front wall of Grillby’s. The porcelain sphere lands in the snow next to a very startled blue bear, who drops the package in its hand as the snowball slams less than an arm’s length next to him.

It’s only now that the sound of the crafted heart hitting the far, far end of the cavern wall comes stumbling in throughout the town. Like a bouncing ball on a bass drum, the dull sound of the impact is scarily similar to that of a heartbeat dying off, leaving only a dead silent in its still wake.

“You think it made a hole in the bedrock wall?” Asriel wonders through a startled chuckle.

Aofil needs a few more moments before they can answer that.

After looking at it curiously, the puppet picks up the sphere at their feet, rotating it in its hands as it tries to figure out what to do with it. It’s head cranes back as the three thick black strokes of a felt marker pelt greet it.

“Awful teens have been decorating a nearby monster,” it says to the crudely painted human face in its hands.

Moments later, the door of the cozy tavern is flung open, and out pops the perplexed head of Grillby, his flaming hair bent into the vague shape of a question mark. He takes a brief glance of the silted impact on his wall, the blue bear puppet telling a story to a yellow porcelain sphere, the birthday tree snapped in half, and Aofil and Asriel breathing deeply as they also stare at the same destruction as Grillby does.

He adjusts his glasses.

And heads inside again.

“Maybe,” Aofil finally answers. “I… I don’t know.”

“We should,” Asriel interrupts himself with a deep swallow, “we should check on Frisk,” he repeats after a steadying breath. 

A good idea.

Aofil just needs to get their legs operational again. And their head. And their tail. And their-

“Give me your arm,” they ask of Asriel, who puts one around their shoulders. 

No, not like-

“No.” Aofil tries to wring the blue jacket over their shoulder and head, but Asriel doesn’t seem to catch on what Aofil wants. Neither do they, in a sense. “Over my mouth.”

“Wha-”

“Just do it.”

Timidly, Asriel moves their arm to Aofil. Their mouth and tongue begs for them to reconsider, but they can’t. They have to.

“Sorry,” they say, both to Asriel, and to themselves.

They then bite down on the arm, and scream.

A handful of tormentingly long seconds pass before Aofil throws their neck back to breathe in deeply. The cold, almost freezing air rushes through their lungs and head, giving them a mild brain freeze, but it also clears the rest out that they couldn’t scream out. They shake their head, “Right!” and shoot themselves up on their feet. “Let’s go.”

Asriel doesn’t move. How can he? The shock… Having your teacher dressed as your friend bite down on your arm and scream their lungs out? No mortal should ever have to go through such a task, such a mental gauntlet.

“Asriel?” 

Give him a second, dammit!

“Yeah...” he lies. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he continues lying. “Let’s go.”

Mental scars be damned, he has a sibling to save!

“Toriel’s gonna kill me,” Asgore laments as if it’s his last as Aofil and Asriel move in closer. 

Frisk sits with their head planted firmly between their palms, groaning, moaning, mumbling. It’s a miracle their brain isn’t pouring out of their nose. 

“You alright?” Aofil asks.

Frisk nods.

“Gotta have to say yes because you could be trying to shake your head but your sense of direction is all messed up.”

“Yes,” Frisk says. “I’m fine. I just need a moment. Little bit of warning before the next carousel, please?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder. Chaos, chaos. Might have to warn not only for Frisk’s sake next time.

“I’ll head inside the house with you and sit you down on the sofa,” Asgore explains as he lifts his spun child up in his large, fuzzy arms. He does so with the same care and ease he did when Frisk was but a child. It’s a calming sight in the midst of all this chaos. “We’ll do the date when you feel that the world is no longer spinning.”

“Just some water and a minute or so and I’ll be golden,” Frisk assures, but then puts their hand back on their head. “Maybe two minutes...”

As Asgore closes the house of the skeleton brothers, Sans’ mailbox falls over embarrassingly.

“We should head into our next position,” Asriel suggests before taking the lead. Aofil hurries after him.

No point standing in the cold when there’s more normal temperature around the corner. Or at the way’s end, to be more precise. Behind them they can hear the bear puppet repeat its speech to the yellow decorative sphere. Aofil was beginning to grit against hearing it repeat its spiel to them constantly. Good thing they’re moving on. The explaining voice of the blue bear fades away as the rushing sound from the Waterfall takes more precedent in the surrounding environment. It’s a calming sound, despite it’s somewhat violent pouring. 

“You’re to stand somewhere here,” Asriel points for Aofil at the first bend of Waterfall. “You know what to say, right?”

“Asking Frisk if they’re sneaking out to see Undyne, but not mention her name,” Aofil answers as they take their position opposite and a bit ways off from the meager station Asriel heads into.

He gives Aofil a thumb’s up before taking out his phone to occupy himself. 

He’s doing that on purpose to tease Aofil. He has to.

Aofil’s tired shake leads them to make eye contact with an orange puppet standing exactly opposite them next to a blooming Echo Flower.

No...

The puppet saunters over on its extended fin.

No.

Asriel looks up from his phone, his smile wide and shining like the crystals in the walls behind him.

No!

The orange puppet stops half a face’s length from Aofil. It points behind it.

“This is an Echo Flower.”

OH FOR FU-


	153. Tailing ahead

“…”

Aofil lifts their eyebrows.

“...”

They wrinkle their nose.

“...”

They flash their teeth.

“...”

Wiggle their ears.

“Ribbit, ribbit. Just between you and me...”

“Guess it’s just the ears left,” Radentim says after a thinking hum. He and or she pushes the Froggit puppet away with one of his and or her foot, and throws a blanket over its head. She and or he then spins Aofil back in the barber’s chair while she and or he rummages through the make up wagon.

The now thicker layer of paint sits a bit more heavier on Aofil’s face, but their features are now a bit more obscured, a bit more nonhuman.

“Can you hear out of...” Radentim’s voice trails off as a pair of flat cups are pressed against Aofil’s ears.

“What?”

“...uess not.” Radentim discards the cups and begins rummaging anew. “Maybe just a pair of fabric muffs?”

Aofil turns the chair over to the monitor. Frisk has just found out about the spaghetti Asgore’s hidden underneath his cap, and his heart melts as Frisk takes a great big bite out of it, swallowing it with delight.

Asgore puts his flustered hand on his basketball tee a couple of sizes too small for him. “Human...” he sighs, even more flustered, with cheeks burning brighter than Aofil’s.

And Toriel’s, but only barely.

Aofil’s spun back facing the mirror. “How’s this?” Radentim asks while mounting a pair of inner cups from a pair of headphones. “Comfortable?”

More or less.

“I think I can manage,” Aofil answers.

“Right.” Radentim leans over to fetch the brushes dripping thick with yellow paint. “Sit still, I’m gonna try and have them blend in with the shape of your head.”

The wet paint sloppily licking behind Aofil’s ear is a bit...weird. A bit too much like an actual tongue for their taste. Luckily they have the mirror to overrule their imagination. Had Aofil had their tail left it would’ve whipped in response to the shiver running down their back during the first cold stroke of Radentim’s brush.

Despite their extra layers of paint, Aofil feels naked. Like something’s been ripped away from them. It’s sitting curled up in a neat pile just out of reach.

Their tail.

Popped away from them with less of a thought as one would the electrical cable of a standing lamp in need of moving.

One quick tug, and then discarded.

“Soon,” Aofil mouths to it. Soon the two will be one again. So close, yet so far away. Each second spent apart is agony. It’s harrowing, the emptiness behind them. Cruelest of faiths! Damnedest of curses! Wail out! Rage! Rage against the injustice! The evil that’s been wrought upon Aofil, an eternity of torment, a horizon with nothing but dark and ominous clouds that roar thunders of mockery against them! Thei-

“Tilt your head for me.”

Aofil angles their head to the side.

“Thanks,” Radentim says before continuing to drag the newly wet brush as one would their feet through autumn leafs. 

Where was Aofil?

Oh, right.

Their tail thrown haphazardly into the corner like an ill accepted trophy. Scalped from them like a surgeon would cancer. Ripped and teared, until nothing was left! Where there was symbiosis there is now nothing. Where there was harmony, there is now discord. A yin without yang. A tailbone without tail. Now just exposed as a point of weakness, an evolutionary no man’s land, with their exposed skeleton hidden behind the faintest of skin and flesh. They’ve gone from a-

“Other side.”

Nice, it’s starting to come together now.

“Thank you,” Radentim nods as he and or she dips his and or hers brush into the small jar of yellow paint again.

Right, back to what Aofil was thinking.

They’ve gone from a whole to a half, maybe even less. Maybe they’ll never be whole again, even if they reclaim what’s rightfully theirs? The void created by the mere notion of the two being separated… No mere mortal should ever face such trials. Such...torment. Anger, nothing else can describe this unjust action. Fear, its reason for this heinous action. A reason summoned without logic or respect, without compassion, without hope.

“Should be good now,” Radentim informs through narrowed eyes. He and or she brings the puppet back as he and or she spins Aofil around to face the Froggit puppet again.

“...”

Aofil wiggles their ears.

“...”

Nose.

“...”

Lips.

“...”

Eyebrows.

“...”

Shoulders.

“...”

“Great!” Radentim shoves the Froggit away again. “You’re good to go.” He and or she removes the plastic cover laid on Aofil, and motions for them to hop on out.

“Thanks. I shou...woah.”

Aofil manages only one step before they almost fall over backwards. They manage to stumble themselves upright again by leaning against the wall, but it was a bit too close for comfort. Had they fallen they’d leave an imprint of their face in yellow paint on the Lab floor.

Radentim shoots a pair of very befuddled eyes over Aofil’s way. “Have you...” He and or she taps away the last drops of paint away from their brush on the rim of the small jar. “Have you gotten used to the tail, Aofil?”

Aofil looks up from their awkward squat to get their tail back into position. “What?” they voice while bending their tail behind them to compensate for the momentum created as they turn around to face Radentim. “What do you mean?”

Radentim keeps her and or his perplexed eyes locked on Aofil’s tail bending up to scratch the top of Aofil’s head with its tip. “N….nevermind. It was...” Radentim blows their lips in…just strange. “It was nothing,” he and or she lies. “Just don’t scratch where I just painted.”

Aofil whips their tail up to let Radentim know they understood, like a thumb’s up, but a tail’s up. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Yeah...” Radentim nods. “Yeah...sure. It’s about Frisk, isn’t it?”

The implicating tone sails merrily over Aofil’s head.

“Yeah, it is.”

Radentim just...no...and goes back to his and or her magazine which pages are turned with a very deep and exasperated sigh.

Aofil pays it no mind.

How could they feel any inkling of grim now that they have their tail back?

They whip it in a circle, cracking the air like a whip.

Oh yes…that’s the good stuff.

“Yooo...” MK’s face loses shine as he turns his armored torso towards the cracking sound. He shakes his head while chuckling. “You...look more like me, Aofil,” he notices with a reservation covering his voice more than the replicate Undyne armor does his body. “It’s...”

“It’s for Frisk,” Aofil informs. “The puppets took me for a human, but since I’m not supposed to be a human,” they shrug while tilting their head from side to side, “it triggers the puppets before Frisk arrives. Not really good when it’s supposed to be for them.”

MK hesitates an answer. “Yes,” he nods along, albeit without conviction, “I guess so. It’s just that, before you just looked like a painted human, but now you...”

“Now I’m more like a monster?” Aofil pries with their tail raised like a question mark. They’re unsure whether or not they did that on purpose.

“More like me, yeah,” MK mutters through lips unwilling to part from their uncomfortable bend. “But I guess Undyne feels the same looking at me, right?”

Faint green hue on MK’s scales aside, what with the blue paint being painted on top of his yellow scales, he does strike a rigorous resemblance. With the helmet over his head none would be the wiser. Until he opens his mouth, that is, or tries to throw cyan spears. The latter is gonna be interesting, not the least from the way his tail is painted to look like one. How is he gonna give the illusion of throwing them though? Snap his tail forward? Twist it? Jump along with it and-

“Aofil?”

They unbundle their tail before answering. “What?”

MK’s eyes and teeth hang for a second on Aofil’s tail. “Um...yeah! We’re soon up, you and I, right? At the tall grass when Frisk walks into it. I’ll threaten my spear after having a talk with Asgore, and then you two will jump out. We’ll meet afterwards and go over the ridge section, alright? Might be better to talk about it on location and stuff.”

“Where is Frisk now?” Aofil wonders while craning their neck around MK’s broad shoulders to see the monitor.

“Just arrived at Grillby’s along with Asriel,” Undyne shouts while nodding once towards the computer monitor bathing her in the warm orange light of Grillby’s tavern. Flickers from the titular owner’s head casts a pleasant nostalgic calm over Undyne and the rest of the monsters watching the screen. Like they’re staring at a healthy hearth.

Aofil can’t help but smile just as warmly. Despite the horrible jokes Asriel’s almost mocking impression of Sans that spills out of the computer, it’s something Aofil could just watch for hours. Their friends and family so wholesomely enthralled.

It’s nice.

With a cold breeze, Sans swoops into existence. “got the king on his pedestal,” he informs the room before beckoning MK and Aofil to him. “just you two left.”

With a stylish flick of his tail, MK flips the helmet resting next to him on the floor up on his head. “Alright,” he says as he eases it down so that it sits comfortably. He nods hard, knocking the visor down. “I’m ready.” His voice has a slight echo to it, a muffled echo. Ominous in a way.

Aofil’s more interested in the flick MK did. They could probably do something similar with theirs, they reckon with a curious hum. Maybe with the umbrella stand later? Yes, yes, and then-

“you’re not supposed to space out yet, aof,” Sans reminds after a loud snap with his fingers. “character outside the lab, not inside it.”

MK throws his head backwards, angling up his face plate revealing a pair of lowered eyebrows pointed hard at Sans. “What do you mean by that?” he asks as he leans forward threateningly, the red extension on the back of his helmet flopping down and hitting him in the eye.

“same to you, kiddo,” Sans chuckles as MK blows upwards to get the extension away. “in character only outside the lab.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” wonders Undyne, who’s suppressed giggling stopped dead after Sans’ comment. 

Before things domino further, Sans takes action, which must mean that whatever inaction he could’ve chosen otherwise would’ve sat pretty bad for him. That’s usually how the song and dance goes with Sans, with him lifting a finger being the equivalent of a five act interpretative dance in terms of effort spent.

“Howdy!” Asgore shouts while looking down from a rock cliff a few meters up in the air. “I heard that Asriel was just done with his and Frisk’s Grillby visit, so the birthday kid should be here in a bit.”

Sans shortcuts away again, causing the large patch of grass next to Aofil to sway. Like thin...tails…the strands move in a way that’s mesmerizing to Aofil. 

Maybe...maybe they’ve gone a bit too far with this whole tail business? If they’re seeing tails instead of grass that might be a sign that they’re-

“Hm?”

Aofil looks over their shoulder, seeing their tail shakes its tip from side to side before lowering itself back down again.

It has a good point. How can Aofil be crazy if a part of their body just said that it was fine? A crazy person wouldn’t be able to talk to their own body like that. Crazy means not normal, and you’re the epitome of normal if you’re aware enough of your limbs that you can have a meaningful discussion with them.

Makes sense to Aofil.

And their tail nods too.

Unanimous agreement. 

How can things be wrong when everyone thinks it’s a good idea? 

It can’t. Everything’s fine.

Fine!

Just fine.

Everything’s fine and dandy.

Just-

“Aofil?”

Aofil turns around with their tail scratching the side of their cheek over their shoulder. “What?”

Asgore and MK trade furrowed glances at the top of the rocky overlook. Asgore must’ve pulled MK up there. 

“You’re alright, right?” MK asks. “You’re not getting stage freight a bit? I mean…I am, a bit. Although,” he says after knocking his face plate up again with a quick flex of his neck, “you did act a bit before, and you looked quite calm with it.”

“What?” Aofil repeats, their tail whipping into a question mark before laying flat on the ground again. 

“I think I hear Frisk now,” Asgore hushes. “Hide in the grass, Aofil.”

MK turns around while Asgore hurries off out of sight. Mere seconds later, Frisk arrives, or that much Aofil guesses based on the small chuckle echoing through the room. They hear Frisk carefully entering the patch of long grass, just a step away from Aofil, who carefully steps back so that Frisk won’t spot them.

“Hi, Undyne!” Asgore enters in from his hiding spot. “I’m here with my daily report.”

“Oooh, menacing, MK,” Frisk giggles from the grass patch.

“What? Did I date them?” Asgore repeats after a hard swallow. “Yes! Of course I did! I dated them valiantly!”

Aofil can hear MK whip his tail from above.

“What?” Asgore’s voice continues. “Did I celebrate them? W-w-well… No.”

“Oh, dad...” Frisk sighs. “No wonder mom never let you attend those dramatic school plays.”

Is his acting that bad? Aofil doesn’t think so. Although, that makes them worried. If Frisk thinks Asgore’s acting is bad, and Aofil doesn’t, does that mean that their own acting is as out of touch as Asgore’s? Or at least, not conforming to what Frisk has set as acceptable?

What was that, tail?

It’s the kiddo that is wrong?

Yes, yes, you’re right. 

As always.

“I tried very hard, Undyne,” Asgore’s words ring out as if crying over spilled milk he got for complimentary for his tea, “but in the end...I failed.”

MK again whips his tail, sending some gravel down the cliff wall.

...And into the neck of Aofil’s sweater? What? You’re kidding? Oh for- Oh no, it’s chafing against Aofil’s spine. 

Dammit!

Aofil carefully angles their tail up the back of their sweater to shake the gravel loose. It works, but…now they can’t get it out. 

Double dammit!

“You’re going to celebrate the human’s soul yourself...” Asgore heaves a very theatrical sigh that would have the long grass flattened out should he have aimed his sigh at it. “But Unynde, you don’t have to gift them. You see… You see...”

“Don’t have to gift?” Frisk mutters as if chewing venom. Aofil can almost hear the poison sizzle against the stone ground as it falls from Frisk’s tongue.

Now, if they just...gotta...get...their...tail…

“…I understand,” Asgore voices, again very theatrically. “I’ll help you in any way I can.” The sound of his leather boots squeak fainter and fainter with each distant step he takes. Heavier does MK’s boots as he also exits stage back, melding into the dark.

“Yo...did you-” Aofil begins from inside the grass patch after Frisk has managed a few steps outside it. They come jumping out on one leg with their tail still bundled up with the fabric of their sweater. The weight of Frisk’s confused look is enough to trip Aofil, and they crash cheek first into the ground, knocking the air out of them.

Frisk’s squats down to the coughing human in monster dress and make up bending their knees up to their chest while coughing violently. “You alright?”

Everyone keeps asking that for some strange reason.

“Yeah,” Aofil assures after a steadying cough. They turn their neck awkwardly around. “My tail.”

Frisk is a bit reluctant to reach into Aofil’s sweater and wrestle with the yellow prosthetic thrashing about as if possessed.

Well, it kinda is, to be fair…

“Just bend it a bit,” Aofil asks. “A bit more...a bit…more...and…” With Frisk’s hesitant help, Aofil tail finally shoots back out of the bottom of their sweater, stretching the fabric into one size larger so that it hangs ill fitted on Aofil’s shoulders. “There we go!” they still cheer as they take strain on it to stand up.

They clear their throat.

“Did you see the way she was staring at you?” Aofil asks wide eyed and excited blossoming like a red-hot coal. “That...”

Frisk braces themselves.

“Was...”

But it’s not gonna be enough.

“Awesome!”

They fold in half laughing.

“I’m SOOOO jealous!”

And Aofil isn’t doing anything to help.

“What’d you do to get her attention…?”

Not in the slightest.

“C’mon!” They nod hard towards the nearby door. “Let’s go watch her beat up some bad guys!”

Frisk’s continuous chuckle leaves them unable to follow Aofil’s joyous jig as they hurry on down the path, their tail whipping back and forth with each theatrical stride.

A pair of large, red mittens emerge from above, grabbing Aofil by the shoulders, and lifting them up like they were a chess piece about to make check mate. Not a lot of excitement from the chess piece though, as the blood from their head rushes to collect at their feet until Asgore places them down on the stone ledge above the path.

“You-”

“Give me a second,” Aofil says while taking a deep breath. They can feel their blood pump back up into their brain again, and the world turning back into colors. “Alright, I’m fine now.”

“Sorry,” Asgore apologizes while moving Aofil away from the edge. “MK weighed a bit heavier in his armor.”

“It’s good now,” Aofil says after shaking their head awake again. They carefully peek back over the ledge, seeing Frisk giggling through their nose while traversing exactly where Aofil was lifted up. 

Frisk passes by the seeds for the upcoming bridge puzzle and picks one seed with them that they send down an open body of water.

“I’m up next a couple of rooms, right?” Aofil asks mostly to show that they know. “With the tall seaweed, but on land?”

“Yes,” Asgore answers with an absent nod as he’s busies his eyes with Frisk picking up a second large seed that they again send over the body of water while humming happily to themselves. A nostalgic sigh flows out of the large and silly costumed Boss Monster king. The calm blue of the Waterfall lies like a comforting blanket on him as he watches his human child so grown up. So happy wandering the Underground.

“We’ve come so far,” he again sighs, ending his heave with a chuckle that’s more crying than laughter. Good crying though, relieving for him. A king that’s seeing how far he and his people has come, and a dad seeing his child so grown up, and how far they have come as well.

You could push him over just by looking at him the way his shoulders are so weightless in this moment. He might even float away like a big novelty balloon that a small unsupervised child’s drawn all over with felt pen.

“You too, Aofil,” Asgore whispers while turning his shining smile their way. “You too.”

“Still owe me two packs of Golden Flower from last weeks poker, I’m afraid,” Aofil shoots over with coy and a disarming chuckle. “Thanks though...” Alright, gotta be in character somewhat! Aofil takes a respectful bow, “my king.”

Asgore shakes his head, still with his smile outshining the crystals dotting the cavern like blinking stars. “The Great Papyrus and the king will say the same thing to you then,” he says while bowing his head back. “You never have to bow to any of us, and you never had to.”

The third seed slots into place. Just one more for Frisk to fetch. Aofil should probably get going so that they’re in place.

“I’ll see you up ahead,” they bid to Asgore. “Papyrus.”

“Nyeh nyeh nyeh,” Asgore giggles under his breath.

The fourth seed slides into place as Aofil turns around. They can hear Frisk’s whistling rise in crescendo as the subtle popping sound of the bridge seeds unfold.

The crescendo quickly turns into a startled yell followed immediately by a big splash.

You gotta be kidding…

Aofil leans over the ledge again next to Asgore with his two large fuzzy hands shaking his heavy head. Frisk is soaking wet from the belly down as they drag themselves up on the stone path again. The almost ethereally cyan lighting coming from the, not any longer, still water and crystal that bathed Asgore calmly does nothing to suppress Frisk’s groan as they tilt their head back.

“OH FOR FU-”

Oh, the cups around Aofil’s ears just sunk down for some strange reason. They grind the side of their head against their shoulder until the cups clear the space around their ears. The light chiming noise from the crystal around them come back to their temporary noiseless world.

“ake ake ake ake.”

That must be Frisk’s echo. Certainly has that tone to it.

“Toriel’s gonna kill me.”

And that must be Asgore realizing what Frisk shouted at the top of their lungs.

Now what’s that orange light come careening around the corner?


	154. Disappearance through confectionery

“Please don’t do that voice again, Aofil.”

Frisk again crouches down near where Aofil is hunkered in the patch of tall seaweed.

“I don’t think I can handle it again. I’ve just had sorta lunch and my stomach hurts like hell.”

Heavy and clunky footsteps close in on the seaweed patch. 

“Please.”

The dark and intimidating suit of armor stops its advance barely an arm’s reach away from the patch. It turns slowly, extending the blue painted tail behind it to rummage through the seaweed. Aofil leans forward into its reign, and is pulled out for a brief moment.

“A bit too close to my throat,” they stage whisper to MK as they feel the edge of his tail push against the side of their throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers back through his helmet, easing his grip around Aofil’s shoulder before easing them back down into the flowing seaweed. He then makes a pretend last sweep with his tail before clunking away.

“Please,” Frisk repeats with a giggle already taking roots in their voice. They wait for an answer that will never come, and with a chuckle through a defeated sigh, they timidly step out of their hiding spot.

“Yo!” Aofil explodes as they leap out of the seaweed with a smile splitting their cheeks in two. The voice they’re putting on is also splitting their throat in twine too, but how can they resist this temptation being mere a mortal? “Did you see that!?” their joyous and breathy voice continues. 

Frisk’s angry eyes do little effect as the rest of their face teeters on the brink of erupting in laughter. “I hate you,” they manage to say before their snickering overwhelms them.

“Undyne just...”

“Stop!” Frisk yells desperately as they begin to fold up.

“...Touched me!” Aofil squeals, it being like a belt sander on full blast against their vocal chords. They might have to ask for some healing after this.

Frisk seeks support from the wall, the only thing keeping them on their feet. 

“I’m never washing my face ever again!” Aofil walks up to Frisk and leans their shoulder onto the heaving human. “Man, you are unlucky.”

Frisk shoves Aofil away all the while gasping for air through their cackle.

“If you were standing just a LITTLE bit to the left, human.”

“I can’t-” Frisk coughs. “Just stop!”

Aofil allows Frisk some room to breathe, but with each one they take, Frisk is sizing up Aofil, waiting anxiously for more of that horribly put on voice to begin again. They look down the path.

Aofil shakes their head. “Yo-o~,” they emit as a warning through song, making it clear that they know exactly what Frisk wants to do.

They can’t run faster than where Aofil’s voice will reach. They’ll just trip and fall face first laughing their head off.

“Don’t worry.” Aofil again leans into Frisk, this time closer. “I’m sure we’ll see her again!”

The two humans lock eyes. Aofil’s surrounded by thick layers of paint and prosthetic teeth and horns, and Frisk’s surrounded by wrinkles from their almost inhuman task of holding their laughter in.

“Yo?” Aofil pries maliciously. “Yo yo yo, fellow kid?”

Frisk’s cheeks tense to the point that you could grate diamonds on them. About to burst at the slightest stimulation. The slightest mention Aofil would do will leave Frisk unable to act.

Would they though?

Yes.

Of course they would.

“How about that L, O, L, and stuff?”

Oh that’s harrowing on Aofil’s vocal chords, but not as much damage as Frisk’s must’ve gone through as their upper torso bend like a well oiled hinge. A monstrous chortle puts even Asgore’s sneezes to shame, and the cavernous space rumbles as Frisk’s laughter howls throughout the blue tinted walls. Nearby crystals fall out of their sockets. Leaving the homes they’ve had for thousands, if not millions, of years because of Frisk.

And also Aofil.

Mostly Frisk though. After all, it’s their laughter that’s shaking the Underground to its core.

Core…

CORE.

Oh no! The cake!

“Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

Had Aofil not had their cuffs on their ears would’ve been bleeding right about now.

But yeah, the cake? 

It is Muffet’s baking though. It should hold an earthquake judging by her previous work. Sometimes not even a cake trowel can slice off a piece for serving. Filling almost on par with Papyrus’ risotto which has you cursing yourself for eating too much after one single spoon of it.

“Ahahahahaha-” 

And here comes the coughs. The mixture of laughter and pain, blended like the cheese to rice ratio in Papyrus’ risotto funnily enough. On first glance it’s rice, laughter in Frisk’s case, but after a while you realize it’s all cheese, and pain respectively. Frisk leans their back against the crystal covered stone wall, sliding down as they snort through both their nose and mouth. 

Aofil doesn’t feel bad though. Laughter is good for you. They’ve probably added like ten or so years on Frisk’s life from today, so whatever throat pain they experience now is negligible. Nothing a nice mug of hot Golden Flower tea can’t fix instantly. Net positive, which might be necessary once Frisk gets going on that CORE cake. The glaze alone looks to be sweeter than Muffet’s-

Aofil clears their throat.

The glaze alone looks to be sweet enough to rot the teeth in the blink of an eye.

“A...h...a….h….a...h.”

Although again, with the amount of times Frisk has run out of steam from laughing today, they might need that amount of energy to replenish themselves. Their stomach is gonna hurt like hell from the laughter, so what’s stomach pain from excessive cake added on top of that?

Anyways, now Aofil can exit the scene unnoticed since Frisk is busy filling their lungs with air only to immediately shoot it out afterwards.

Hopefully it doesn’t look bad on the cameras that Aofil is just leaving Frisk to their overwhelming laughter, but had it been a problem then Toriel would’ve already been here with fire blossoming in both her hands. She was very quick with another set of dry clothes for Frisk after they fell through those bridge flowers, so hurrying over here, which is closer to the Lab, would be even quicker for her. What is it now? The third pair of striped sweaters and brought pants that Frisk is wearing? 

Surely the monsters didn’t pack any more sets of clothing for Frisk to wear during their birthday. Toriel must be washing and drying them off in the Lab. Or maybe it was one of those boxes left behind? Aofil should ask once Sans shortcuts them back there.

“toriel wants a word.”

Speak of the devil. 

“since we’re all good friends i told her she could ask for a bit more than one from you.”

A jesting devil.

“That the reason why you seem a bit more hurried than usual, Sans?”

Speak of the jevil?

“we’re outside the lab so i go by asgore now, remember?”

Aofil is starting to regret speaking in the first place.

“but anyways, save your words for toriel.”

The gust from Sans’ shortcut barely has time to settle before Aofil is whisked away back into the glistening white hall of the Lab. Their eyes are assaulted by the jarring shift in light, and they crane their head back as their eyes narrow before adjusting. They blink hard a couple of times, and slowly they begin to see shapes again amid the large interpretative blobs of purple clouding their vision. One of the silhouettes is glaring hard at them. Had it not been for the wig and jeans shirt the white fur would’ve blended in with pristine white walls of the Lab.

Could’ve done with a smidgen smudge as to not suddenly blind everyone entering via magical teleportation.

Another thing Aofil seems to be comfortable with by now.

“Is Frisk hurt?” Toriel confronts. Not harshly, but enough that Aofil instantly knows that she’d like an answer.

NOW!

“Just laughing,” Aofil explains, still blinking out the light and overwhelming purple. “I’m their teacher dressed up as their classmate acting like said classmate years younger while straining my voice. I’d be folding in half too.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” the computer speaker howls, proving Aofil’s alibi. Frisk must’ve dug deeper to find a wind numbering in the tens by now. It’s really breathtaking what Aofil’s managed with just a few lines. Quite literally, in fact.

Aofil feels proud of their acting. Not many can incapacitate a human with nothing but thick layers of make up to impersonate a childhood friend, a robotic tail that answers to commands, and only a vague understanding of what language is hip nowadays with the late teens. Aofil has chosen well in not giving into the bastardization of their native tongue these youngsters seem so fond of doing.

And to any jury that might be listening, Aofil only used the bastardization on Frisk because they were acting like a said youngster!

Toriel keeps her eyes on Aofil for an additional second before averting them back to the screen, her wig following the motion half a second later. On the screen, Asriel is shrugging back at the camera while standing with his hands deep inside his pockets and watching Frisk roll around on the gravely floor. After half a minute of him looming above his writhing sibling he again shrugs to the camera and walks back off screen further down the path.

“Catharsis is just spilling out of that kid,” Aofil can’t help but comment with a friendly chuckle of their own. “Relief with each chortle. Maybe a bit over the top, but I mean...look at me.”

Aofil presents a goofy smile that has Undyne and Alphys covering their mouths.

“I had to avoid looking at my reflection in the water while I waited for Frisk. Otherwise I’d give my position away.”

“did you know that yellow sticks out like a soar thumb amid dark blue, almost violet surrounding?” Sans asks curiously, his hands scratching his golden glued beard with half an interest. “like, for an example, tall seaweed in the waterfall?”

“Ever the observant one, Sans,” Aofil mumbles under their breath and scowl.

“Complimentary c-colors,” Alphys informs despite...no...one...asking...why…did...she...even...

She closes the face lid, but it pops open again from her heavy sigh. Undyne does a favor and closes it again while smiling earnestly. “Just like you and me, Alphee! Brain and muscle!”

The large colorful squares on Alphys’ face plate light up bright red, and she spins around on her wheel, exposing a large flip button.

Aofil’s tail bounce with childish excitement. It’s very tempting. Just a quick flick and… and… Alphys EX? 

Sounds cool!

Although, Aofil’s expectations are tempered like ice on hot coal as they realize that it’ll probably be something akin to Mew Mew season one instead of the designs from season two. Compared to the robots in season two, season one’s designs are watered down.

And speaking of water. Water hitting the back of Aofil’s sweater, that is. They look up to find Frisk’s earlier set of clothes hung to dry on a taut power cable. Not dry just yet, evidently, and Aofil takes a step aside to avoid further moistening.

The water drops splashing against the tile floor next to the base of the computer though…

Maybe Aofil should watch the screen for now. It’ll do better for their anxiousness.

“What’s a star?” a strange beige monsters asks a passing Frisk rubbing the rim of their eye blackened by a telescope so kindly offered for use by a grinning Asriel. “Can you touch it?”

Mettaton clears his throat, informing the Lab of his blessed presence as he sits in front of the mirror in Radentim’s chair combing his long and flowing ears. 

“Can you eat it?”

He does so again, louder. His combing slows to a halt as he tilts his head angrily towards the group of costumed monsters and single human trying their best to ignore him.

“Can you kill it?”

The cough is softer, just enough to be heard, but not enough to imply importance to the last statement said by the beige puppet.

“Are you a star?”

And back up louder again the cough goes. Very similar to what Toriel expresses on occasions.

An opinion Aofil is fully well comfortable with never expressing to her.

They’re unsuccessful in keeping their smile hidden, and Mettaton quickly catches on. He leans into Aofil’s view, and they make the mistake of turning their head. “Don’t you agree?” Mettaton asks softly with his hands clasped on his purple robe ever to Toriel’s annoyance. She might not have noticed the coughs, but Mettaton’s imitation of her she notice like a single missing crumb on her pie set to cool on the windowsill.

With universal contempt and unbelievable disgust. 

Undyne saws the air in front of her throat while grimacing hard towards Aofil. Her extreme expression doesn’t jell well with her large prosthetic nose, and it almost begins to lose suction from her forehead as she exaggerates the ramifications of Aofil’s apparently life threatening blunder of acknowledging Mettaton’s cry for attention.

“Is Nice Cream Guy a puppet or not?” they try to divert by nodding against the computer screen showing Frisk stepping up to an ice cream stand with a blue bunny springing to life behind it, his ears straightening as he greets friendly.

“Nice cream! It’s the frozen treat that warms your heart.”

Aofil remember the first time they bumped into that Nice Cream stand. Puppet or not, the smile the puppet drags is familiar. For starters, it’s not stretching the fur and skin like a damned tug of war between metal and artificial skin. If only Frisk were to, allegedly, pull their face off like Aofil did Radentim’s previous work with them as that Mew Mew character, then Aofil could compare the horrified face still left on Nice Cream Guy.

“Three Nice Creams?” Toriel shouts at the screen. “I really hope one is for your brother and the other for courtesy, young human!”

“Maybe it’s for the punch card?”

From the way Toriel’s sneering Aofil also hopes that one is for Asriel, for Frisk’s sake. Toriel could probably melt the Nice Creams just by staring at them hard through the monitor the way she’s about to fume like Grillby. And then Frisk’s clothes would be stained and they’d have to get another pair which would…

And so on and so on.

“Nice Cream?” Asriel perks up as one is shoved into his hand. He quickly unwraps it and slides the sticky wrapper into his pocket, to Toriel’s dismay. Frisk puts theirs into the same pocket, furthering Toriel’s scowl.

“What else are they gonna do?” Aofil says carefully. “Litter?”

That seems to have gotten through to Toriel, but only a little. She crosses her...human...arms, and shakes her head with mouth in a strict pout. “I guess you’re right about that, Aofil.”

“H-he is supposed to b-be Sans,” Alphys stammers out. “N-no offen-nse,” she hastily adds while waving her hands in front of her.

“some taken,” Sans informs with a quick shrug.

“NONE HERE!” Papyrus also informs.

...Good to know.

Frisk beckons Asriel to follow them, and the two head off towards the cyan glowing exit to the next area of the Waterfall.

However, as the camera shifts over, presenting a labyrinth of glowing turquoise water silently moving underneath wooden bridges that cast long and wavy shadows upon the already dark walls, the two siblings are nowhere to be found. 

Alphys scoots forwards on her wheel to cycle back to the camera before, but still not Frisk or Sans dressed Asriel. She opens up her now slightly brown face plate to reveal her lowered brow. “W-where did the t-two go?”

She jumps back forward again, but the same still and calm visage is showing. Long tree glowing is a bright gradient from the bottom of their trunks from where they suck up the glowing water. Patches of ankle high grass highlighted with the same shining turquoise color swaying over a black mattress of rock and stone, like streaks of meteorite against the night sky.

Where could they be?

“We put other cameras in that room, right?” Toriel asks while trying not to sound hurried. Her mouth flaps faster than her words can escape it though, so it’s not exactly subtle. “Switch to one of those.”

“Same thing,” Alphys mutters through her metallic fingers pressed up against her lips and chin. Aofil has to look away as she flips through the different cameras a bit too fast for their taste. Their head is already beginning to split from the intense Lab light again, so watching the flickering screen any longer will surely be even more hell on their head.

“Could you pour some water for me?” they ask Papyrus while shrugging their shoulders. “Care to give me a hand?”

His fur covered one flies up to his even more fur covered chin which he rubs while emitting a thoughtful hum. “HOW WOULD ASRIEL REACT TO THIS PUN?”  
Aofil didn’t really mean for it to be one. “You’re still in the Lab,” they remind amid the frantic flashes of colors consuming their surroundings as Alphys continues flipping through the cameras. “You’re still you in here.”

“I STILL WANT TO PRACTICE,” Papyrus explains as he begins pouring a glass for Aofil. The glued fur on his chin stands up from the static created by him rubbing his hand on it. It’s almost like a tuft of white beard. It kinda suits him.

Would it suit Asriel though?

“LET’S SEE...” Papyrus again begins to think, folding his elbow over his other arm as he again begins to think. He’s yet to give Aofil the cup of water. Aofil should ask for it, but the way he’s in such deep thought… Aofil doesn’t want to be rude and wake him up from it. They’re still quite thirsty though. Maybe they can…

“I GOT IT!” Papyrus exclaims, knocking away Aofil’s tail just about to touch its tip on the plastic cup filled with water as he sweeps his hand in triumph. The sound has everyone turning their necks for a second, seeing Aofil stumble for balance, before returning to their search for Frisk and Asriel. “GOOD ONE!” he says with as neutral an emotion as he can. 

Not really at all.

“Sounds like him,” Aofil still says before none too subtly nodding towards Papyrus’ hand again. “The water?”

“OH! YES!” he remembers with a slap on his forehead. He holds the cup out for Aofil, who after some hesitation to come to terms with what they have to do, leans forwards and puts their lips on the cup.

“Would you kindly-” Toriel asks softly with her hand placed ever so softer on Aofil’s shoulder. Her feet, however, stand not so softly on Aofil’s tail, and a sharp tug is shot into their spine.

The static holding up the fur on Papyrus’ chin bends in submission to the cascading water splashing against him from Aofil’s startled jump.

Toriel’s...human...hands soot up to her face, covering the horrific realization blossoming on it. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

Aofil needs a second or so to come back down. They stare in shock and horror at their tail, but luckily it seems to be fine. No visible harm done.

Good.

My precious…

“Aofil?”

They look up from their tail. “Hm?”

“Are you fine?” Toriel asks while reaching for some paper towels. “Did it hurt?”

“Just became aware, that’s it,” Aofil replies. They don’t see any yellow paint running over their eyes, so perhaps they got lucky with the water spillage.

Papyrus though looks like he took water over his head.

Which he did.

Toriel hands Papyrus a couple of squares from the paper towel. “Here you go,” she says warmly. “Forgive me, it should’ve looked where I stepped.”

“DON’T WORRY, UM…TEACHER! I, THE BOSS MONSTER ASRIEL, HAVE BEEN THROUGH WORSE!” 

Papyrus dries himself off as best as he could. Meanwhile, Aofil and Toriel share worried looks.

“UNDYNE ONCE HOSED ME DOWN WHEN I COMPLAINED ABOUT THE WATER IN MY BOTTLE BEING TOO WARM!”

Had Undyne not had any make-up on her she’d been pale as a ghost, if not paler. Toriel’s vengeance is dampened due to her relief from Papyrus not delving deeper though, so perhaps she’ll live to see tomorrow. 

“Anyways,” Aofil says after stretching their tail for a bit to make sure it is undamaged. “You were saying?” they ask Toriel, who stops in the midst of rolling out a couple of new paper squares for Papyrus.

“Oh,” she perks up very similar to Asriel while simultaneously ripping the measured amount of paper towel squares.

To be fair, it would be Asriel perking up very similar to her.

“Yes, would you kindly go with Sans to your next position? Just in case you happen to spot Frisk and Asriel?”

Sure. “Sure.”

Maybe Aofil can get a drink from one of the streams flowing down the cavern walls. If it’s good enough for MTT to bottle and sell it should be good enough for Aofil to drink normally.

Wow…they must be really thirsty to consider that... 

“water we falling to?”

Aofil’s brows sink in concordance with the sudden lowered temperature. They tilt their head down to Sans, who looks up with a smile. The empty puddle devoid of the water the gust from his shortcut pushed away begins to seep back underneath his feet, and he takes a small step aside.

“i-”

“Don’t,” Aofil interrupts.

Sans shrugs. “just wanted to-”

“I said don’t.”

The two hold their eyes locked. The sound of the rushing water near and far makes the stare a bit more intense than it really is.

Sans smack his non-existing lips and tilts his head to the side while scoffing softly. “really makes you pond-er.”

Aofil looks down at their ankles and feet soaked in the water that Sans’ smugly satisfied shortcut sent splashing against. They heave a tired sigh.

But at least they’re alone now and can get some water. They spot a nice little crevice pouring through crystallized cracks covered in cold water. They take a step towards it, hearing the thin metallic crinkling as they put their foot down and-

Wait a minute.

Aofil turns their neck around, “Frisk? There you a-” but their words are plugged shut as Frisk shoves a Nice Cream into Aofil’s mouth.

“Let’s go,” they snicker while motioning Aofil to follow them.

Great…

Now Aofil’s gonna get even thirstier from this Nice cream. Taste nice though, a nice mix of blueberry and-

Aaarrrgghh!

Brain freeze!


	155. Waterfallen human

“Cou yo ho dis fa a couble o secovs?”

Frisk’s step is halted by their ears forcing them to stop. “Sorry?” their perplexed face asks as they turn around slowly to their slobbering teacher in a yellow monster costume featuring a tail.

Aofil ungracefully tries to slurp up as much of the escaping Nice Cream as they can, but it’s like trying to slurp of a rapidly receding ebb that’s always just out of reach from the desperately stretching lips. Just as the sea has its salt, so does the Nice Cream. It’s really beginning to not only assault Aofil’s mind by frozen means, but through salty means as well. It tastes good, that’s not the problem. The salt is worsening their thirst though, and they’d really appreciate it if Frisk could...just...please... 

“Coud you-”

A silence birthed out of terrible shock sinks over the two humans as if the entirety of Mt. Ebott were to collapse upon the two. Time stops for the two humans, terrified beyond being capable of action. Breaths held like babies out of harms way.

But time is still in abundance for the event entire nations would join in prayer to prevent happening. 

Yet, the horror continues before the two stunned and shocked humans’ eyes until...

Ploff.

The Nice Cream’s impact may be soft, like how it was served, but the sound it made? Although not ear shattering, its reverberations ring out the most acute of laments. It’s deafening in its consequences yet silent beyond any meaningful distance. The sound in its stead is of two gasps, drawn through mouths agape with terror. 

Just as the fall of the Nice Cream, the gasps quickly fade away as if never have been summoned from this frightening event. Replacing it, again fighting against the distant rushing of the Waterfall’s waterfalls. Two hearts shatter like thin sheet of Snowdin ice crashing against the rocky floor.

“Dammit,” Aofil voices without emotion. Theirs have been drained, there’s none left for them to express. 

Will it ever come back for them?

“What a shame,” Frisk offers in this dire situation. Heartfelt, even as their own isn’t capable of feeling at this moment.

Rage, rage against this unjust crisis! Frisk’s strength even in the most hopeless of situations still shines like a beacon of hope amid this dark hour. Their determination to keep going even when everything stands stalwart against them. 

“Damn shame.” 

Their condolence flutters like a lone candle left naked to face the icy storm tasting of blueberry as it relentlessly roars inversely proportional to how the Nice Cream ploffed as it landed.

“Yeah...” falls out of Aofil’s slacked jaw. “Damn shame.”

How could one ever return to a normal state of mind after such a-

“We can get you a new one if you want?” Frisk offers while pointing back the way they presumably came from. Quick shrug bounced as if nothing. “I still have the punch card for a free one.”

“Nah,” Aofil denies through their wrinkled nose. They smack their tongue, the impact of which reminding their head that it’s hurting. “I think I might help myself to some of Mettaton’s Reserve for free instead, actually.”

Aofil again turns to face the glistening water flushing between the crystal crevices behind them, their mouth watering for the water. Like a passionate kiss they angle their lips to the source of such bountiful healing of their headache.

Like nectar it begins rejuvenating their tired head.

“You know that the water in Mettaton’s Reserve is just tap water at a markup, right?”

A glare harder than the crystals bored into the cavern walls is thrown at Frisk from the annoyed teacher turning their head so fast it leaves a subtle green hint from their yellow face paint rapidly turning like a rapid streak of a paint brush on a dark blue canvas. Aofil’s turns their scowl over their shoulder, refreshing water dripping from their chin like the first formed cloud of a rainstorm. “Can I please just drink in peace?” they ask as much as they scold. “I’m really thirsty.”

Frisk throws up their hands and spins around on their heels while keeping the flat of their hands up in surrender. Whether they’ve got that from either Sans or Asriel is a question saved for when Aofil is not trying to soothe their skull about to force itself out of their head.

Aofil takes a fresh inhale of the cold and humid air before pushing their mouth back to the flowing crevice of water. As they, finally, begin to drink properly they feel each and every minute drop that flows down their gravely throat. Like magic, maybe partly because it might be some of it being taken from the crystals, the water soothes their headache combined from their thirst and sharp brain freeze like Toriel’s warm and motherly hand gently pushing away the hurt. 

Oh yes, that hit the spot.

Aofil retracts their craned neck while singing their relief through a pleased sigh. Their tensed shoulders begin to relax, and their tail curls up through the same relieved feeling up along their back. 

“You done?” Frisk asks with their arms still up and facing away. Their cheek peeks the slightest as they subtly turn their head. “Quenched your thirst?”

“Yes, I’m done,” Aofil informs after sucking up the few drops remaining around their mouth. Better to do that before the water has time to work on their make-up. The drops have a slight rubbery taste to them though, so Aofil blows them our of their mouth. They can weather the slightly off taste left behind by it though, and if they were to rinse their mouth from the taste it would just leave more drops on their lips and chin and the cycle would perpetuate.

They’ll be fine. It’s not like they ate moss or anything.

Nice Cream though, that they ate.

For a little while…

Like a single light blue and sugary gravestone on a field of desolate rock, what’s left of the Nice Cream lies in a bent pile next to a puddle that’s beginning to cloud from the streak of melted confectionery pouring into it. Its stick marks the grave of this gruesome event that will stand for generations to come.

If it crystallizes, that is. Aofil might put it as a conversation starter in their living room.

“And this one is from where I dressed up as one of my students while imitating him at a younger age to another of my students for their eighteenth birthday where their family and friends decided the best way to celebrate that important age was to remind them of when the heaviest burden was put on them.”

Alright, maybe not.

Would Aofil want to leave the Nice Cream behind to form a rather inconvenient bump in the path that would be quite easy to stumble upon?

Literally.

Although, judging by the way it’s collapsed on itself after barely a minute or so, that might not be the most likely of event. It’s also beginning to melt, its milky content snaking away from the small mound of blueberry flavor and coloring. The light blue treat mixes with the dark blue water to make a rather subtle off colored blue. Aofil wonders how it would’ve been if the Nice Cream melted into the glowing cyan water. Would it cloud too? Maybe it wo-

Two loud snaps originating from a yellow hand appears less than a Nice Cream stick’s length from their face, and their head instinctively pulls back. “Wha?” they mumble.

Was it their own hand? No, wait, those are still stuck inside their costume.

Oh right, it was Frisk!

“We can go back and get another one?” Frisk proposes again while taking a suggesting step in the direction of the cyan glow sneaking around the corner as if the early sun through a window. “You’re looking like you’d pick it up and finish it if I wasn’t here.”

Aofil glances down at the Nice Cream again.

It does look-

No.

No no no no no.

No!

Stop.

“Nah, I’m fine,” they answer as casually as possible.

“Should we keep going then?” Frisk again suggests with an implying step and hinting tilt of their head and eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“Then let’s go,” Frisk shines an amused smile, “MK.”

Right, back into character for Aofil. “Yoooo! Man, Undyne is sooooooo cool. She beats up bad guys and NEVER-”

“I was kidding.” Frisk throws a dismissive hand against Aofil. “Just be you for now, please. Not because of any laughter or anything. I just… I just want to talk with you a bit.”

“But-”

“I’ll go back to playing along after this,” Frisk explains with a nod as promise, “with the others. For now though, just be you, Aofil. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” They angle their head further along the path, deeper into Waterfall. “Something I want to talk to a human about. Walk with me?”

Alright? “Sure.” Aofil throws a nod down the path. “After you.”

Frisk drags a thankful smile and takes lead. Aofil quickly jogs up to them just before Frisk turns the dark blue corner. “Where’s Asriel, by the way?” they shoot over a bit less subtly than they wanted it to be.

“Should be waiting at the Lab now, I’m guessing,” Frisk answers with a casual throw of their hand towards where Hotland is. “Probably doing his best to not drown from mom’s overflowing questioning.”

“You mind if I make a bit of a puddle with some of my own? I mean, you should be used to getting your feet wet by now. Feet, legs, torso, head.”

“I’ve been moist my entire life,” Frisk answers with a hard stare.

The tone combined with Frisk’s very deliberate choice of words gets the message across to Aofil. They should drop this for now.

“Where did you and Asriel go, by the way?” Aofil instead pries. “We didn’t see you on the cameras.”

Frisk sidesteps a couple of drops falling from up on high crashing violently onto the floor below. They rummage a bit inside their sweater through their collar, and fish out the same remote Asriel used in Snowdin. “Borrowed this from Asriel,” they say while waving the remote like a fan. “It can control the cameras.”

Alright… “Wh-”

“Why?” Frisk interrupts as if knowing that Aofil would ask. They shrug dramatically. “I don’t know. Alphys might, but I haven’t met her yet to ask her. There’s like ten or so more buttons I haven’t the foggiest about what they do. Like, listen.” Frisk puts the remote up to their face while squinting hard to attempt reading. “Relinquish puppeteering,” they state with a slight shake of their wrinkled head. “Firstly, why so many letters on such a small button? Secondly, what does any of that means?”

Aofil shrugs. “I don’t know.” Technically they’re not lying. They tilt their head up to where they put one camera up yesterday. It’s blended into the environment, as per Alphys’ request, but Aofil can still spot it among the rocky outcrops surrounding it. Angled so that it would keep the entire length of this section of the trail in one view. A bit of a lens distortion at the top and bottom of the path, but it was within acceptable parameters.

“The Lab can’t see us now,” Frisk explains while putting the remote back. “Just a loop from five minutes ago. That much I’ve figured out from the buttons.”

Why would that be a function on the remote? Why, Alphys? Why?

“I’m guessing that was the case with you and Asriel just before you met me again, right?” Aofil hazards confidentially. Should go without saying, but Frisk wanted to talk so...

The birthday human nods as they smack their lips. “Yup.” Their affirmation echoes along with their loud smacking.

“Just to talk? Just the two of you?”

Another echo reminiscent of opening a vintage bottle of Royal Purple.

“What did the two of you talk about then? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Just talked,” Frisk shrugs. “About...what’s happened, you know?”

“What’s happened, specifically?”

“About the two of us.” Frisk eyes grow a bit distant. They almost stumble on a crystallized piece of rock, but their feet missed it just barely.

“You haven’t talked about it before?” Aofil continues prying while carefully steering a more vacant Frisk by taking a step closer or further away.

“Of course we have,” Frisk sighs out as they throw their neck back, “but this was more...talking… I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” Their head comes down with another sigh.

Aofil allows Frisk a couple of seconds to think. They’re not in a hurry.

“We talked about when I first traveled the Underground...”

“First first or just first?” Aofil asks to clarify.

“Yes.”

Nevermind then.

“It’s all kinda a blur, you know? It’s hard to put each small detail exactly where it belongs. I know what I felt during my...walks...back then, but it’s like trying to put a piece on so many puzzles, and with each one the piece only not fitting if I step back and see the whole picture, but then when I step back it all becomes as one single color and...”

Frisk stops walking.

Aofil does too.

“Again,” Frisk says while their face bends uncomfortably, “it’s hard to say, any of this. Asriel and I we...talked. That’s what we did. I know exactly what we said to each other, but it’s difficult.” They scoff, almost angrily. “It’s hard to say it again.”

“Already packed it up?” Aofil offers.

“I’ve jumped on that briefcase so many times and finally gotten it to close...” Frisk points behind them, at the weathered stone statue carrying an umbrella. “You and Sans came just as we rounded the corner into that room behind the statue.”

Aofil’s heard a bit about that statue. What it represented back when the Barrier was still sealed and Asriel was still…

No, keep it in the past. Although, with what Frisk is saying, perhaps the past has already been dug up.

“I replaced the umbrella in the statue’s hand,” Frisk says quietly. “The old one was so old, Asriel told me. He wondered if I would replace it for him, and I did.”

“What did he say when you replaced it?”

“He thanked me.” Frisk nods to themselves. “We hugged afterwards. It felt like the first time. When he was-” They stop and put their hands over their mouth and nose. Carefully they inhale through the gaps in their tensed fingers. “Sorry,” their shaky voice say during the waving exhale. “I...”

“Take another if you feel like you have to.” 

Again, Aofil’s not in a hurry.

Frisk collects themselves again. And again. And again. Each time, their rugged exhale has their hands quiver more and more.

Until a single tear casts its shining reflection underneath Frisk’s eye.

“Sounds like you need to hug him a bit more,” Aofil decides to gamble. Frisk’s breaths are harsh, true, but they don’t sound sad. 

They sound relieved. 

The lonesome tear is knocked off Frisk’s cheek as they scoff a chortle. It leaves behind a streak of glittering water as it arcs like a small crystal before landing and assimilating into a nearby puddle.

“I’m gonna hug all of you,” Frisk coughs out. “I’m gonna hug every single one of you for all of this. You all look so fucking silly I can barely keep myself together.”

Swearing? From Frisk?

“We went with Riverperson to New Home so that I could hang up the hat from Napstablook. It’s already had its fair share of close calls and I don’t want to risk it further,” Frisk explains with a slight twirl to their hand. It comes falling down as their smile does immediately afterwards as they take a long inhale. “We passed where I died. Just walked right over it. You know what we talked about though?” Frisk shoots over to Aofil like a shovel full of sharp spikes. They recoil back from the question, dipping the heel of their foot into a muddy plash. “We talked about how ill fitting dad’s Papyrus armor fits! He looks stupid! So stupid! The stupidest I have ever seen him look!”

Aofil’s neck and upper body cranes back as Frisk’s borderline maniacal expression is thrust upon them. Their tail now almost carries the weight of two humans as Frisk pushes their hands down on Aofil’s shoulders as they lean over, smiling cheek to cheek, their fringe, wet from their time spent in the Waterfall, hangs over their eyes.

A bit creepily, to be honest.

“It doesn’t matter!”

Aofil can only blink in response.

“Me having died doesn’t matter any longer! None of the bad that happened when I died in the Underground matters! It’s amazing!”

Aofil’s tail begins to shake violently as Frisk rolls the collar of Aofil’s sweater up into their clenching fists, dragging more of their weight up on the costumed human.

Perhaps Frisk is feeling a bit too relieved. Their smile has gone from joy to eccentric, almost maniacal. It’s starting to remind Aofil of the way that bunny puppet’s face stretched, and that’s not good, to vastly understate.

“I can’t describe to you how happy I am, Aofil! I am-”

Like the sound of Asgore clearing the thickest branches from the trees in his garden in early spring, Aofil’s tail snapping creates a deafening crack that’s only overruled by the loud thud and splash mixed with the subsequent pained groan from the two humans crashing down onto the wet and hard Waterfall floor in a flail of limbs.

Thank everything that is holy that the cameras are on a loop. Otherwise… No, Aofil’s not even gonna give that thought the time of day. They’re just gonna roll Frisk off them and see if they can’t lift themselves up on carefully with their tail. It cracked pretty badly, but maybe it can still move.

“Sorry,” Frisk says after a pained cough. They push their hand up to their forehead as they lean their back against the wall behind them. “I’m...” Their other hand comes up to their face, and they heave a weary sigh into their grimy and muddy palms. “I think the memories might be getting to me. It’s starting to blur.”

The memo-

Aofil’s balance is swiftly pushed down the list of priorities as they shoot up from their knees up on their feet. They stumble hard over to Frisk, slamming their shoulder into the rocky wall next to the bent over human. “Frisk? What do you mean by memories?”

Frisk shakes their head while keeping their hands still. “No, not like that...I think. I’m feeling overwhelmed, that’s all.”

That’s not something that’s only all. Not the memories. 

Dammit.

“Do you want to sit down somewhere that isn’t soaking wet?” Aofil suggests. “Catch your breath for a bit? Not here though. You’re sitting in a puddle, Frisk.”

Frisk angles their body away, but their pants are already darkened by water. “...Yeah,” they nod. “Not here. It’s too wet. Next room.”

Their tone really has changed. Aofil doesn’t like this. It’s too reminiscent of the confusion the monsters and humans had when the memories came haunting. This almost breathy speech that’s always teetering on asking “What?” to question itself. Face tensed into a perplexed frown as the mind is spending too much effort wondering and questioning what is true and what isn’t. Trying to separate oil from water, but never managing to.

“Hazy,” Frisk says as they stand up. “I’m feeling hazy.”

Aofil catches Frisk on their shoulder. “I got you,” they assure. Frisk’s arm runs over Aofil’s neck for support. “I got you, kiddo,” they repeat as they take a first step. Immediately they’re reminded about their ignored balance, and stumble.

“Don’t fall on your face again, MK.”

Aofil waits for a chuckle from Frisk, but none comes. Are they so far gone now? Can’t even tell that Aofil’s in a costume?

Fucking hell, this might actually be serious.

“Yo,” Aofil says without even thinking about it, “maybe we should call Toriel? You seem a bit pale, Frisk.”

“Who are you talking to?”

A large drop of water hits the back of Frisk’s head, and it slumps over. Their hand clutches at Aofil’s shoulder.

Yeah, this is officially serious.

Aofil eases Frisk down onto the ground. They’ve reached the dry part of Waterfall now, the overlook towards New Home. It’s gray castle and scenery is tinted almost turquoise from the surrounding crystals. The jagged from of the rocky outcrops stand dark and ominous against the soothing nostalgic form of the castle along with its almost pulsating light blue color. A lukewarm breeze surrounds the humans from the way towards Hotland.

“Give me the remote, Frisk,” Aofil asks carefully as they let Frisk sit up on their own. “I’ll get Sans over here to help heal you.”

With a heaving sigh and a clearing cough, Frisk reaches into their sweater and pulls out the remote. After pushing a button with some considerable effort, they bounce it a few times in their hand as while gazing into the distant shapes of New Home bathing in its muted palette.

“Don’t throw it.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Another breeze flutters by, this time from Waterfall, bringing with it colder air that clashes with the warmth from Hotland. The resulting gust has Frisk’s hair dancing as if static beyond belief. Once the gust has subsided, they turn to Aofil, who pulls back. Their fringe has split from Frisk’s eyes like a pair of heavy theater curtains.

No...

“It’s been a while since we talked.”

Why?

“Sit with me, please.”

“No!”

The sound of smattering, almost like rain, follows the stressed outcry. The puddles behind Aofil’s heavy breathing torso dance from the small layer of water knocked from the ceiling, rippling out into waves that swell up on the road.

A silence hangs against the splendor of the view from the outlook. A quiet against the roaring beauty stretching its glimmer from crystals sparkling like newly formed stars.

But for none to see.

It’s only yellow painted face to yellow born face.

Eye to eye.

“How?”

Crimson to crimson.

“Frisk told me you were gone, Chara!”


	156. Twinted fate

“Frisk says a lot of things.”

“Don’t!”

“They’re-”

“SHUT IT!”

Aofil’s voice will be heard throughout the entirety of the Underground. It might even pierce the insulated walls and doors of the Lab.

But let it. 

Let it topple the CORE cake. Let it shake loose all the crystals visible to make a brief star fall that will be witnessed by none. No human, no monster, no camera.

No living human, that is.

Chara keeps Frisk’s gaze set on the large castle in the distance. Theirs would be the only one to see the star fall never to be seen again. The impact as the crystals would shatter against the floor would be only heard by them. Aofil, despite standing right next to Chara, with lips curled in anger and eyes furrowed into a hateful scowl, would hear nothing. Their ears are too flushed with the rush of their heart beating with rage.

“Where. Is. Frisk?” Aofil spits from the bottom of their soul. The words chafe at the inside of their throat like razors, cutting their tongue so that it curls along with their lips into their peering frown. “What have you done with them?”

Chara tilts Frisk’s head down.

“Let me just-”

“No!” Aofil whips their tail around Frisk’s shoulders, turning the human around to face their heavy and sharp breathing. “There’s no ‘you’, Chara. We said our goodbyes.”

“We haven’t.”

They...

No. …No they didn’t.

That doesn’t matter though! Not now!

“You seem really damn comfortable being in charge, Chara. That wasn’t the tone you had last time! Don’t you dare tell me that things have changed.” Aofil drags a confused and fearful breath through their clenched teeth. “Why aren’t you quivering at the notion of taking control away from Frisk again?”

Please don’t say that things have changed…

Frisk’s burning red eyes tilt down. “I hugged Asriel.”

I?

No…

“How long?” Aofil’s frozen expression asks. The words spill out of their mouth like water in an overly filled cup.

Filled with exhaustion and anger.

Chara pushes the slump tail off Frisk’s shoulder. It lands with a heavy thud on the cold ground.

“They’ll be back.”

“That was not what I asked.”

“It’s what you wanted to know though,” Chara retorts before sliding one of Frisk’s extended legs back to lean their chin down on the water logged knee. “They’ll be back soon.”

“How long?” Aofil asks again. “I want an answer.”

Chara closes Frisk’s eyes for a brief moment. “Until I feel that I’m done,” comes a solemn answer accompanied by a sigh. “Signed Frisk.”

“No.” Aofil shakes their head. “That’s too vague for me, Chara. Bring Frisk back now.”

“I don’t feel that I’m done though.”

“You hugged Asriel,” Aofil feels that they have to remind. “That’s enough.”

Just leave!

“Not for me.”

“That’s not what I took away from it last time we spoke. I’m telling you it is enough, Chara.” Aofil slices the air in front of them with their tail.”I’m not in the mood to take any damn chances right now. Not now, not ever again. Go. Away. Leave Frisk so they can enjoy their birthday. Leave Frisk so they can enjoy their life. Your words, Chara. Go! Away!”

The last words are cast like curses from Aofil’s tongue. They don’t care though. None of this right now! No soul stuff, no memorybox solution.

NOTHING!

“We’ve never really said goodbye to each other,” Chara says with a smile summoned with difficulty. They can’t even muster it enough to tilt it over to Aofil. “Just wanted to say it.”

“Goodbye. Now go.”

Chara looks away. “Not really what I had in mind...”

“Too bad. It is what you get. I didn’t get the Nice Cream, but I’m gonna be happy with the slight taste I had. Go away now, Chara. Bring Frisk back.”

“Comparing saying goodbye to your twin with Nice Cream...” Frisk’s eyes close again, hiding the crimson color behind a pair of thin eyelids that open after a short while. “Frisk still wants me to be satisfied.”

“And you should be satisfied with that, Chara. You said that you cared so much for Frisk that the mere thought of taking something away from them hurt you. You told me how much you hated to be in control back in that bathroom, but here you are arguing to still stay in control. That makes me really worried, and I can’t imagine the worry Frisk is feeling right now.”

Chara puts Frisk’s hand on their chest, gently grasping the purple and blue striped sweater. “They trust me, Aofil. They’re not worried.”

“I am not gonna negotiate with you on this, Chara. Last time I spoke to you Frisk almost died, and so did I. It’s even worse now that you’ve interacted with Asriel. Wasn’t he the one Frisk and you wanted to absolutely not know that you still existed? Huh?” 

Aofil throws an ungraceful “Fuck!” over their shoulder as they would a sneeze to be courteous. Now though? It’s because they don’t want to look at Chara puppeteering Frisk. It brings back too much. 

THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE EVERYTHING PUT BEHIND THEM!

“He doesn’t know.”

“And how do you know?” Aofil snarls. No, you know what? “You know what? No, don’t answer. Let Frisk answer instead! Get. Away. Chara.”

“I know how you feel.”

“No.” Aofil again shakes their head. “No, you don’t.” They squat down and force eye contact. It’s the one and only time they’re gonna do this. “And I’m not going to explain why. I am not going to say anything more to you.” They poke the tip of their tail against Frisk’s chest. “We all need to blow off steam today. All of us, including Frisk. Them mostly. This is all for them, and you’ve already sullied it for me, and for Frisk. If you have an inkling of what you said back when the last time you took over you’ll bring Frisk back out right now.”

“Last time?”

Aofil’s eyes shoot wide opened from their angrily narrowed state. Shock now holds them open with force, not allowing Aofil to close them and lie that this is all just a bad dream. They have to stare at the truth with a single question swirling inside their mind.

“Last time wasn’t the last time you took over, Chara?”

With a pained chuckle, Chara puts up one of Frisk’s hands behind their unruly hair, brushing it away from the red eyes shining like two sinister dots. “Sorry, Frisk. Slipped your tongue,” Chara apologizes while again moving Frisk’s eyes over to the castle in the distance.

“How many times, Chara?” Aofil asks as their mouth clamps shut in fury. The one time they did in that bus station bathroom was already one too damn many, and now they’re telling Aofil they’ve done it more? “Answer me!”

Chara gently puts Frisk’s hand on Aofil’s tail, “I feel that,” and-

“There is no you, Chara!”

Aofil pushes down Frisk’s body onto the ground. They slam their knee down next to Frisk’s shoulder. It’s gonna hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears off, but that’s something to worry about after Frisk is back. Aofil bends down their painted face down to Frisk’s, their thick layers of paint proving little resistance to the angry folds blooming on their forehead. 

“I did this once with Asriel to make sure no Flowey was left behind,” Aofil snaps bitterly. “I pushed the face of what I’d done so much to bring back into the ground to make sure it stayed that way. I almost died, had my soul and body fused by magic! In that moment I had to make sure that he would be back. Not Flowey, not anyone else but Asriel would be left afterwards. If it was Flowey, then he’d pretend to be Asriel. He’d live his life as Asriel whether he liked it or not!”

The yellow tail trashes against the ground, whipping up dust behind Aofil. “I trust Frisk, but I don’t trust Chara. Whoever you were before, you are Chara now, and I’ll be damned if I let that go on. Frisk is the person that should inhabit that body. I don’t care who is behind the eyes, but as long as they’re not red, and as long as you turn your head and smile at the name Frisk and ignore when Chara is called, then all is fine!”

As if itself possessed, Aofil’s tail runs up the length of their back, breaking the teeth of the zipper as it goes. Like a second burst of rain, the metallic teeth fall around the two humans, playing a somber melody as they bounce on the rocky floor. Aofil rips their arms out of their costume, the two squished limbs screaming in discomfort after being freed from their long captivity, but the roar of the raging haze inside Aofil’s mind screams much louder.

They grab the collar of the blue and purple striped sweater of Frisk’s and wring the slumped head and face up to their own. “I’m more than willing to make sure that only Frisk remains after this, Chara. Just bring them back now, for their sake! How many times do I have to remind you that you were the one that didn’t want to be in control?”

Chara again tilts Frisk’s head towards the light blue castle in the distance. It doesn’t travel far before Aofil’s tail is firmly planted against the yellow cheek, tilting the head back so that the crimson can again face the crimson.

“Why did you come back? Why isn’t Frisk here? Why is it that you’re putting so much worry in me right now, Chara?” Aofil doesn’t understand! Their breaths turn into chokes, and they can feel their eyes begin to water with desperate tears. “I’m too tired for this. I can’t go through this again! What if the others find out? You said you could feel that Asriel was inside of me before. What if he felt your presence?”

“He didn’t.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“The other one who can tell he didn’t is Asriel then.”

Aofil throws Frisk’s body back down on the ground. Chara groans as they’re forced to brace awkwardly against the impact. They grit Frisk’s teeth and cough out the blow. 

“Maybe I’ll ask him then.”

Frisk’s eyes expand in shock. “No.” The red of their iris’ shrink to almost nothing, and the color drains from their skin, making it sickly green from the surrounding glow. “I didn’t mean that you would-”

But Aofil has already turned their now exposed back around, and with heavy steps they round the corner back into the dark blue of Waterfall. 

“Wait!”

Nope.

The yellow, panicked hand is thrown away as soon as it’s placed on Aofil’s heaving shoulders. “I told you I’d force your hand, Chara,” Aofil mutters harshly over their shoulder to Chara again reaching out for Aofil to stop.

“He doesn’t know!” they scream as Aofil again throws Frisk’s hand away from their shoulder. “Just listen to me, Aofil!”

A sharp and vicious turn from Aofil later, Chara finds themselves on the floor. Aofil looms over them, seemingly unfazed by the collision they caused by turning rapidly on their heel and tail. The splash from Chara’s fall barely has time to settle before Aofil’s voice again fills the echoing room like rushing water from a breaking dam into a plastic straw. “You see now why I can’t trust you?” they howl. “I called your bluff, Chara!”

Theirs is the crimson glowing at this point. Merely reflecting in the faded red in Frisk’s possessed eyes, blazing with anger. 

“I’m...I was trying to keep calm with Frisk’s emotions,” Chara tries to explain, pleading with hands cold and wet from being submerged into a puddle each. “Now they’re surging into me again! I can’t control them! I can’t...”

Thick tears join the drops of water from the shook ceiling, blending together as they conjoin in the puddles disturbed by the sobbing human sitting with knees tucked in and head bent down.

“At least now I know your favorite animal, Chara,” Aofil says like poison, curling their tongue in disgust with each syllable. Chara tilts Frisk’s tear streaked face up. “Crocodiles. You got the same tears as them.”

They again turn around with a heavy sigh escaping through their clenched teeth.

Aofil’s so tried of all of this!

“What can I say to convince you?” comes a choked question that would be inaudible hadn’t it been amplified by its own echo. 

Drops fall from the ceiling. Even the tiny whisper the question was summoned through is enough to shake the newly formed drops loose. Why didn’t they fall before? Why are they only now forcing Aofil to blink in reflex as they smash against their cheek, almost sizzling as they land? It’s so quiet, so weak, yet it was what it took to make the drops fall again.

Aofil tries to ignore the question, but with the echoes following them with each step, it’s like trying to walk away from the reach of the morning sun as it slowly peers over the horizon. Aofil has been burned too many times though by it. Its beautiful rays always brings with it shadows Aofil have to hide in to avoid getting burned. They’ve been burned too many times.

Too many...

Drops continue to fall though, some even plucking at the bridge of Aofil’s make-up covered nose. They shouted and shouted so much, yet that wasn’t enough for the drops to be shaken loose? 

So why did Chara’s question? 

“What can I say?”

Again drops being pestering against Aofil. Again they must ask why? It was even quieter than before. 

Aofil has to close their eyes. It’s gonna burn again if they look. It’s gonna hurt, it always does.

“I just want to say goodbye, Aofil.”

Drop. Drop. Drop.

Is Aofil crying now as well? With all the water running down their cheek?

“I just...”

So silent, yet so heavy.

Heavy…

Did Aofil mean what they shouted? What they threw in anger? Was it just hot air? Hollow words with no weight to it? Not enough to disturb the drops above?

Do they even think they meant it themselves?

“You said last time wasn’t the last time,” Aofil asks without turning their head, slowly opening one eye despite feeling their newly exposed skin frizz all over. It’s gonna burn, and it’s gonna hurt, yet they can’t stop their tongue from asking. “Why is it goodbye now?” They can’t stop themselves from wondering.

And drops begin to yet again fall.

“Because...I only come out when Frisk is about to...”

“Die,” Aofil finishes without emotion. Their eyes are completely opened now, staring directly into the sun.

Again.

As usual.

As always.

They’re not even shocked at the reveal. It’s like a purple dot dancing in their vision after too much exposure to the overwhelmingly bright light. It’s there, it’s intrusive, but Aofil doesn’t think about it.

“I’m here now so that they can heal back up. I’m keeping appearances. Well, for the others, that is. That’s why I’m in control, so that the monsters don’t have to worry.”

“From when? How long have you been in control, Chara?”

More drops.

“When Frisk was spun around in Snowdin. I was the one that let go of the heart.” Frisk’s voice grows louder with each word, accompanied with wet footsteps sloshing around in the water filled shoes slowly lifted and fearfully set down. “I also woke up with dad asking Frisk if they were alright.”

Aofil’s head tilts down as their sigh leaves them lightheaded. “And they weren’t?” they ask after replacing the air inside them clumsily. “They weren’t alright?”

“I could hear them again when Asriel and I ate at Grillby’s,” Chara explains as they stop just behind Aofil. “Then they...”

“Don’t trail off,” Aofil begs. “Please, Chara. Just say it.” They’re gonna be exposed for longer if they wave to wait. “I’m too tired to let you collect yourself, I’m sorry.”

“I..understand.” Chara takes a deep breath behind Aofil, unknowingly breathing out onto Aofil’s naked back. It’s warm.

But it’s not…

...

...It’s not burning?

“Then Frisk asked me if I wanted to walk a bit for them. They were still a bit tired from having been spun around like that. A birthday surprise for me, in a way.”

“Our birthday was months ago, Chara,” Aofil reminds solemnly over their shoulder.

“I said so as well.”

“And Frisk didn’t listen?” Of course they wouldn’t.

Aofil doesn’t have to see to feel Chara shaking Frisk’s head. The icy drops hitting their back with force tells it for them.

Again, it doesn’t burn?

“Do you remember what I gave you the last birthday we had together, Aofil?”

“No,” Aofil turns around to meet their twin, “I don’t.” They come face to face with the bright red light that have hurt them so much. Done them such incredible pain that they were forced to move away. Such pain that they had to lie to themselves just to get through the day.

But now?

It’s cold. It’s not burning, it’s cold from their newly exposed skin being introduced to Waterfall’s atmosphere.

Maybe… Maybe Aofil’s really is a monster now? Not just the costume, but inside them as well. In their heart, in their mind, in their soul. The whole of their soul, not just the part that is Asriel.

They finally kept the promise they made their parents.

Aofil has moved on.

They shine a smile towards their twin. “What did you give me?” they ask with genuine curiosity woven into their question.

And are showered in the crystalline water crashing down from above.

“A pendant,” Chara only manages to say before they pause to assert Aofil’s reaction to almost drowning in the flash flood from the cavern ceiling.

“Heart shaped,” Aofil finishes after swiping their plastered fringe from their eyes.

No red to be seen.

Frisk’s eyes again widen, this time in surprise. “So you-”

“No,” Aofil says almost as an apology. “Just a guess.”

Chara nods Frisk’s head painfully along with an even more pained smile. “Right, guess that’s my go-to gift.”

Chara’s been sitting Frisk’s body in that puddle now for quite some time. If the intent is for Frisk to get better, then Chara should probably stand up sooner rather than later. As Aofil’s gaze sweeps the water underneath Chara, they finally realize. “Oh,” Chara says before pushing up while drying off Frisk’s eyes. 

Doesn’t really help much with those wet hands, to be honest. Instead of streaks of tears there is now muddy strokes. “Could we go back to the outlook around the corner, please?” Chara asks while impatiently turning Frisk’s head a bit earlier than they planned to. “It’s...a good view. Brings me calm. I’m beginning to feel Frisk’s emotions wash over me.”

“Wash over you more?” Aofil retorts while stretching their sweater to help clean up Frisk’s cheeks.

“No,” Chara says without shaking Frisk’s head. Would be a bit rude to Aofil being nice enough to clean the runny mud with their own sweater. “Those were mine.”

Aofil still does not like Chara saying that. It sounds too much like Chara is going to stay. Aofil’s not one to lecture about lying about emotions though. 

That is something they still have to remind themselves of.

Aofil distracts the reason of their lamenting sigh by fruitlessly brushing off the brown stain on their yellow and orange striped sweater. “After you,” they shoot over casually to Chara after licking their thumb to perhaps help with the stain removal.

It does not.

Oh well.

They look up at the ceiling, at the stalactites pointing viciously down. One last drop disconnects from its mineral appendage, hitting Aofil between their eyes.

“Don’t push it,” they mouth with a slight chuckle before following Chara towards the outlook.


	157. For the first time since forever

“I do remember finding a box of yours in the attic,” Aofil says as they ease themselves down next to Chara again sitting curled up in Frisk’s legs. Their red, half-glowing eyes overlook the view of New Home and its castle in its blossoming, almost pulsating, cyan color. “Found a plastic mirror inside.”

Frisk’s arms clench the still soaked legs tightly. “I remember that one.”

“The one with the make-up on it?”

Chara move Frisk’s hand up to Frisk’s cheek, but stop halfway, restlessly rubbing the wrinkled fingers together while pinching the collar of the purple and blue striped sweater. “For my cheeks, yeah,” they whisper before returning Frisk’s hand back to the knot they have the long sleeved arms do around the wet pair of jeans.

“Mine too,” Aofil nods. They let their legs hang over the edge of the overlook. The sharp pressure against the back of their knees is the same as the edge on the plateau up on Mt Ebott at the Underground’s entrance. “It covered my cheeks as well when I looked in it.”

The Underground’s old entrance, that is. Not a lot of traffic going through there any longer. Well, to be fair, there wasn’t really a lot of traffic going through it before either. 

Less color though down here compared to at the plateau too. Not a lot of sun illuminating the nearby town. No trees acting like Mt Ebott’s beard at its foot and higher either. Same glimmer down here in the Underground though. The walls on the plateau glimmer as much as the crystals visible from the overlook’s cliff edge Aofil’s yellow painted legs are dangling casually over. A nice shimmer bringing the mind to imagining treasures vast and forgotten.

“We have the same ones.”

“That we do.”

“Well...” Chara sighs while burrowing Frisk’s chin further into the wet knees. “We had the same one.”

Aofil nods absently. “Yeah.” There’s a glimmer caught in their eye. A pocket of crystals, almost like a nest.

Hm…

Maybe Aofil can reach for them?

Yes, that they can, but a lot of them look to be rather stuck. This one though, just above their shoulder?

Aofil reaches over to one of the crystals that look to be loose enough to pry off its rocky cradle now that they have the use of their arms back. As they tug and twist to get the crystal loose, they feel the rather strange sensation their fur informs them of as the solemn wind howls a tired gasps throughout the dark cavern dotted with light. It brushes the white hairs like one would butter a warm piece of toast.

It’s reminiscent of taking off your socks at the end of a long walk, but amplified to the point where Aofil has to jerk their arm back to rub the sensation away. It is tingling at their arm like it was asleep, but it’s not in their arm. It’s on it, on their patch of fur. Like grass stretching itself upright again after some heavy rain. Aofil can feel every single strand straightening.

They’d rather not.

Chara watches their twin mutter uncomfortably as they angle Frisk’s head on its side upon the darkened jeans knees. They don’t say anything. They just watch.

“You want ít?” Aofil asks as they finally manages to pry off the crystal from the wall with an audible crack. They inspect their fingers to make sure the sound wasn’t from them.

Nope, still have all five left. On both hands too.

Neat!

Aofil brushes away the rocky dust from the crystal before rubbing the last pieces of stubborn dirt off with the help of their sweater. It is already destined for a very long wash, so what is one or two more spots on it? If monster clothing can manage Sans’ condimentary escapades it should be sturdy enough to polish a bit of crystal. Aofil offers the now cleaned crystal to Chara in their open palm. “I can find another one if you want this one.” 

Chara closes Frisk’s eyes for a second. “Frisk would like one, yes.”

“You can just say that you want one yourself, Chara.” Aofil leans over and balances the pill-shaped crystal on the curled up knee closest to them. “You don’t have to say that Frisk wants it if you want it yourself.”

“You said there wasn’t an I though, Aofil,” Chara heaves through a sob, halting Aofil like a sharp prick at the tail end of their spine.

They did, didn’t they…

Chara picks up the crystals in Frisk’s hand, clutching it close as they study the reflection in it. “Did you mean it?”

Aofil’s head slumps over in shame. “I don’t know.” Not because they’re lying, not because they don’t know if they did mean it.

But because they don’t know if they are lying. Were they lying earlier when they lashed out? Are they lying now? 

They don’t know, and they feel like they are being unfair. Keeping these things obfuscated, that’s what they were angry at the monsters for. Well, angry at themselves for not asking the monsters about it, that is. And here they’re doing it again towards Chara.

Again Aofil is blurring the line between monster and human even further, as always.

Heh.

Aofil looks down at their arm.

Fur-ther.

“Did you want to mean it?” Chara tries again while spinning the crystal in Frisk’s hand. Doesn’t matter how much they do though, they still only see Frisk in the reflection. Not a single stripe of the sides of the conical crystal shows any rosy cheeks on pale skin.

Only yellow. Only Frisk.

“I’m gonna say yes,” Aofil answers as they find another crystal that looks loose enough. They reach for it, but it seems a bit more stuck than it made itself out to be. “Not because I actually mean it, but because I want you to explain why you’re doing this. To me, to Frisk, to everyone. You are putting us all in danger by being here, Chara.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” Chara states into the crystal. “I’m still a parasite on Frisk, and that will never change. A parasite can’t live without a host though, so if Frisk is in danger I come out to make sure I still have a host to latch onto later. I’m like their second wind, but not in a good way.”

“Do you keep Frisk from getting hurt by coming forth into the spotlight for them?”

“Don’t try to make it a good thing, Aofil.” Chara pushes the flat of the crystal against Frisk’s forehead, kneading it in as if it would siphon out their headache somehow. “You...and I...and everyone...don’t want me to get more strength over Frisk. If I had a choice I’d...”

The crystal slips out of Chara’s loosened grasp, falling down into Frisk’s groin while gently spinning. It lands on its end, causing Chara to lurch forward with a groan.

“You alright?” Aofil asks while they snap their head away from the barely moving crystal still stuck in the cliff wall.

“I’m fine,” Chara says after a cough. “Frisk’s fine,” they correct while quelling a second one. “I hate feeling like this.”

“We all hate being hurt,” Aofil agrees with a glum nod.

“Not feeling hurt. Just...feeling. It’s too loud for me. Pain is deafening, along with everything else. Frisk is already a very emotional soul, and with mine on top of that...for now that is. Usually I’m at the bottom of it, you know?”

Aofil moves their hand in a circle to gently point out to Chara that they’re going off on a tangent.

Chara nods Frisk’s head understandingly. They drag a long inhale to get themselves back on track all the while clutching at Frisk’s temples. “Anyways, it’s like two enormous church bells in their ears whenever I begin feeling something, and then Frisk’s soul acts as a catalyst which flows into mine and then back to Frisk and then-”

“Chara,” Aofil says loudly to get through to their twin. They plant their hand hard, but not harshly, on Frisk’s shoulder. “You told me this before. You don’t have to again.”

“Just more proof of it, ey?” they chuckle without joy, again catching the reflection of Frisk as they tilt the possessed head down through a lamenting sigh. “If I had a choice I’d...” they repeat before picking the crystal back up in their hand. They meet Frisk’s eyes in it for a couple of long seconds. “No, I would still come out. I’d do it for Frisk. Of course I would! They deserve to not die, not after all they’ve done. They’ve died enough already.”

Aofil carefully lifts their hand away from the damp shoulder while keeping their eyes on Chara staring into the crystal.

“But they’re kept alive by someone that’s dead. They’re made to host longer by the parasite.”

“That’s a bit grim,” Aofil has to admit. They manage to get one of their finger underneath the crystal again, but it still won’t budge. They are fully aware that it is Chara behind Frisk’s voice, but hearing those word come out of Frisk’s mouth like that. They know they shouldn’t, but they’re starting to feel a bit for Chara now.

Maybe those drops from the Waterfall roof hit Aofil a bit too hard on their head.

“If I could manage Frisk’s emotions I would’ve scoffed at the understatement you just said. I don’t want to risk it though. I’m already teetering,” Chara says through gritted teeth. “One push and...”

They lean over the edge of the overlook.

“Jump back now or I throw Frisk’s body back, Chara,” Aofil states firmly with brows lowered sharply. That, if anything, they have zero hesitation about.

Chara hops back a bit.

“Good.”

“I wasn’t thinking of-”

“Don’t say anything more, Chara. Don’t make the image more vivid in my head, please.”

“Sorry,” Chara apologizes while looking away.

“So it is not a conscious choice on your part, Chara?” Aofil asks to change the subject to something less grim. It’s still somewhere on the highest echelon of grim, but at least it is not at the very top.

Or botto-

No!

Stop!

“I’m not even conscious normally,” Chara answers after holding their breath seeing Aofil flinch for a moment, “and this goes even deeper than me. I think it is Frisk’s soul not wanting to die, so it puts me out in the light to keep appearances while it sorts Frisk out behind the curtains. I’ve gotten quite good at imitating Frisk by now.”

Aofil’s face scrunches up as they fight their urge to scream. They. Really. Don’t. Like. Hearing. That!

Chara sighs as they see their twin again flinch violently. They lean Frisk’s head back from looking inside the crystal as they heave their weary exhale. “I know more about being Frisk than I do about being myself. I don’t even feel that I am acting the few times I’ve been in control.”

“Not. Helping!”

The surrounding cavern repeats their shout. The cyan colors turn more somber as their words bounce around, casting a dark veil of exploding bitterness.

Aofil shakes their head before their echo has time to quiet down. “Sorry, it spilled out of me.”

“I don’t mean it like that though,” Chara defends while impatiently rolling the crystal in Frisk’s hand as they think. “I...I am not me, really, I’m a part of Frisk. An organ. I’m me, but I’m fully dependent on Frisk. I said as much in the bus stop bathroom, Aofil. My time to remind you now, I guess.”

“Still...”

“I’m not holding it against you.”

“Thanks.”

The crystal begins to loosen a bit more.

“Please don’t ask how many times I’ve taken over from Frisk, Aofil,” Chara pleads after a short moment of silence.

“It’s gonna be harder living with knowing that than it will without. One of the rare times that is the case.”

“Usually it is the other way around,” Chara finishes with a thoughtful nod. “And speaking of that.” They reach into Frisk’s collar. “I should make sure the rest won’t know either.” The remote with its many strange buttons surfaces from the soggy fabric. “Hopefully this still works.”

“If it doesn’t with the three of our souls combined hope around it then I’ll throw rocks at the cameras until I get them all.”

Chara aims the remote upwards, and after a press of a button, they deposit it back inside of Frisk’s sweater.

“By the way, about the rest,” Aofil voices after letting Chara recover a bit. “Should I be worried that they’re gonna be worried about Frisk and I taking a long while to get to MK?”

“No,” Chara answers without thinking. It’s reassuring to Aofil that it was an instant answer, otherwise their imagination would’ve produced an ever worse answer and they’d been less inclined to believe. “Asriel promised he’d tell the others that Frisk wanted some human time with you.”

That’s good and all, but…

“Asriel made a promise to you?” Aofil asks over their shoulder. Not accusingly, but not curiously as well. Not a single drop of emotion in their voice. They have to save it for whatever Chara answers.

“He made it to Frisk,” Chara measly defends. They know it’s not what Aofil actually asked them. Another quick glance at the crystal has the thinly veiled defense crumble like a single sheet of wet paper. “Yes, he made a promise to me.”

The crystal in the wall Aofil’s fingers are wrapped around angles itself worse than before, lodging itself into another crevice Aofil couldn’t see in the faint light it reflects.

“Who else did you talk to? Besides me. Who of the monsters? Who of the Boss Monsters?”

“I’ve hugged mom, dad, and Asriel,” Chara admits while clutching their own crystal. “That’s what Frisk asked me to do. That is what they wanted me to do. Their birthday wish from me.”

Man, this crystal sure don’t want to come loose now, does it? Aofil has to dig their fingers in around it like they did their chest and soul. “I still don’t like you doing it. If there’s anything I’ve learned about your, Frisk, and my soul is that the monsters are keen on picking up on whatever it is that’s radiating off of our red hearts like a second sun.” Just get off the wall already! “Like a beacon of hope, Sans said,” Aofil forces out through their teeth clenched as they strain their arm and fingers. 

But it refuses.

“Did they notice?” Aofil questions with a growl. “Did any one of them notice?”

“No.”

Unfortunately, an instant answer is not gonna be enough this time for Aofil to believe it.

“Look me in the eyes,” Aofil commands firmly.

Chara slowly tilts up Frisk’s head again to meet Aofil. 

A good sign.

“Brush away the hair.”

They do so.

Another good sign.

“And answer me again.” 

Aofil takes a steadying breath. 

“Did Toriel, Asgore, or Asriel notice anything? Did they suspect that you were Chara and not Frisk?” And most importantly! “Am I going to have to fix something? Am I going to have to do something to convince them otherwise? Just tell me if something happened, Chara. I only want to know so that I can prepare myself.”

Not a single blink from Chara during Aofil’s questions. Not a single movement from their head. Just focused breathing. The smallest curl begins on Frisk’s lips now that Aofil’s finished, and as Frisk’s mouth begins to open to form the answer, Aofil’s eyes strain themselves to not look down. They have to watch the windows to the soul to believe now, whatever it is their ears hear.

“No.”

Aofil keeps their gaze hard on Chara’s windows. They’re opened wide for Aofil to peer into from outside. But there is nothing inside. Not a single grain of a lie which would be enough for the small piece Chara’s soul is.

“They didn’t suspect a thing, Aofil.”

Aofil’s arm bends just the slightest as the crystal in their hand jumps out of its second crevice. Still has a bit more to fiddle with though. “Good,” they say to Chara with a nod. “I believe you.”

“Thanks,” Chara returns with a subdued gasp. 

One of tremendous relief.

“You’re welcome.”

Another gravely crack rings out into the looming hollowness of the overlook. Aofil rolls their shoulder to ease out the sudden jolt. The second crystal popped out a bit more violent than the one they gave to Chara.

Strange…

They look down at it, but they only see yellow. Only MK.

Their MK makeup is not really the most robust any longer though. Half-melted by their emotional outbursts and the water and-

“Can you do me a favor, Aofil?”

“Hm?”

“It’s a small one, I promise.”

“Depends on the favor,” Aofil answers as they begin polishing their crystal. “What is it?”

Chara shows the crystal in their hand. The reflection of Frisk shines within it as a ghostly aberration. Like an old weathered photograph just underneath some moving water.

“These crystals are a bit like the Echo Flowers,” Chara explains while tapping their now yellow tinted crystal in Frisk’s hand. “They remember the last monster or human reflected into them. They react to the presence of different magic than their own environment, so a human’s reflection is more visible than a monster’s one.”

“Kinda like how the Echo Flowers don’t just repeat the folly around them?”

Chara tilts Frisk’s head from side to side. “More or less.”

“Huh.” Aofil nods to themselves. “Always wondered about that.”

“Can you...” Chara has to steady their own breath again. They swallow hard. “Can you take off your makeup and put your reflection inside your crystal?”

Aofil angles up their crystal to their face. Even under the layers of yellow paint, they can see their eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“I..I want to say goodbye to you as me, and if I see myself in a reflection while I do it...”

Chara tries, but they can’t grit Frisk’s teeth hard enough to hold back the thick tears forming.

“Frisk amplifying the emotions?” Aofil guesses carefully.

Chara nods reservedly through a loud snivel. That might mean that Frisk is getting their strength back. It’s not a large favor that Chara is asking, to be honest. Although, what if it makes Chara more aware? Maybe that will give them more control over Frisk?

“I can hear what you’re thinking,” Chara informs while rubbing Frisk’s arm. “And I promise that this is the only thing I want. I just want to say goodbye to you, Aofil. I want to say goodbye to you as twins. That’s...how I remember you as.”

The tears fall from Frisk’s chin like the drops did the stalactites around the corner into Waterfall. Splattering against the rocky ground violently.

“Please.”

Frisk’s body is almost shaking now with all the potent sobs quaking throughout the damp torso and limbs. Aofil can’t watch that, it’s too much for them.

“Just give me a second,” Aofil asks as they run their dirtied fingernails underneath the paint on the edge of their cheeks. “Might have to give it a moment so that my cheeks aren’t the same color as the rest of my face.”

Chara again looks away. “Maybe with those gone our parents could’ve loved us.”

Yeah, Chara is definitely getting a bit too emotional now. Very much so, in fact.

“They did love us, Chara,” Aofil begins before finding a grip and pulling off the yellow painted scales to reveal red irritated skin underneath. They discard the hollow and eerie mask over the edge of the overlook. They’ll deal with Radentim later.

For now though they have to get Chara a bit more stable emotion wise. Last time they succumbed to their and Frisk’s joint emotions things took a turn for the worse, to again understate it immensely. 

“They just had trouble expressing it. Dad, mom, they weren’t ready for us. Although,” Aofil pauses as they prepare themselves for what they are about to say, “I don’t remember the time when they weren’t ready, only you do.”

Chara nods once and hard.

“I don’t remember you,” Aofil continues while throwing their hand up, “and I don’t remember who or how they were before you disappeared. From what they told me, or from what my imagination told me as them when I almost died for the first time...”

They need another pause for that.

“On the day you and I decided to give Mt. Ebott a chance, our dad got a phone call that meant he could start over. With us as well.”

Chara keeps Frisk’s chin on the soaked knees, and the red glowing eyes locked hard on the distant castle humming in its turquoise color. They look to be calming down a bit.

“I haven’t given it much thought because of obvious reasons.” Aofil blows their lips as they join in their twin’s stare while keeping their crystal angled up on their cooling face. “It’s a damn mess, and the less I bring it up, the better.”

“It sounds very convenient,” Chara says quietly.

“It does, and the more I think about it the more it sounds more like my imagination than something real.” Aofil breathes out heavily. “Which I why I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair.”

“Maybe me forgetting everything that happened beforehand was their chance to begin again. They were devastated at losing you, Chara. Make no mistake about that.”

Chara only shortly hums.

Aofil does so as well before allowing a long silence to fall upon the two.

“Why does the castle calm you down so much, by the way?”

“I grew up there, with Asriel.”

“Does that make me royalty?” Aofil shoots over casually, half joking. Might just be what the two needed though.

A small smile grows on Frisk’s lips. “I think the piece of Asriel in you makes you more royal.”

“He’s doing a lousy job at it, to be honest.”

A chuckle.

A small, insignificant chuckle if it were from anyone else. What would be a groan and a dismissal towards one of Sans’ puns now instead explodes as a roaring laughter.

Guess this is gonna be as stable as Chara gets.

Aofil checks their crystal. Their image shows them, but it also shows their twin. It shows Chara’s pale skin, Chara’s rosy cheek, and after some tussling from Aofil, Chara’s long fringe. Aofil adds a smile to it too. 

After all, it’s what Chara is doing now.

“Here.”

Chara takes it in Frisk’s hands. They look down at it with Frisk’s eyes.

But they see themselves.

And this time, when the tears fall on the reflection of the pale human with the rosy cheeks, there is no paint to obfuscate the truth. Right now it is not a curse. It is not something that meant loss, it is something lost itself.

But for now it is back, in the briefest of moments it is back to Chara. Their own face, while they’re sitting next to their own twin.

Time to say their own goodbye.

“Thank you,” they whisper through the streams of tears running down their face in the crystal. 

Aofil extends their arms to invite their twin for the last, and also the first, time. If anything than to make sure Frisk doesn’t fall over slump onto the hard ground.

Chara accepts the embrace with everything that is their soul.

“Goodbye, Aofil.”

A long silent moment passes with the two twins sharing in the embrace with tears raining down from the sobbing human.

“I’m finished now, Frisk,” Chara whispers to themselves. “Thank you.”  
Frisk’s body turns limp in Aofil’s arms, their weight loosening into Aofil’s chest. Aofil carefully leans the now sleeping body down onto the ground with the yellow slumped head resting on one of their thighs.

Chara’s crystal rolls gently out of Frisk’s opened hand.

Aofil mirrors the warm smile on the crystal.

“Goodbye, Chara.”


	158. One more to celebrate

“Oh...my head.”

Aofil is pulled back from their half-conscious stare towards the New Home castle in its crooked, yet still somehow sturdy design. The cyan coloring emphasizes the bends on the large stone towers, making them seem more extreme than they really are.

Or at least, Aofil hopes they’re not as extreme as they are. Some of the towers look as if you’d be sliding down and popped out one of the windows should you get to the top floor. Middle floor because it bends down, perhaps?

That’s a discussion for another time though. Right now they need to make sure that the waking Frisk is actually Frisk. They push down with the heel of their hand on the striped sweater covered shoulder.

“Just say that you’re Frisk,” Aofil pleads to the dazed human still with their head on Aofil’s leg blinking hard while groaning. “Say it and it will be enough. I promise.”

“Just give me a second...” the soaked human responds, pressing a yellow hand up against the drenched forehead. “Everything is spinning.”

“I’ve been through the wrong one waking up once already,” Aofil unfortunately has to inform. “Just say that you’re Frisk, please.”

After a quelled heave comes a quiet answer as not to summon another violent burp. “I’m Frisk.” The answer is quickly followed by a disgusted moan.

“Good.” Aofil removes their hand pressing down on Frisk’ shoulder. “Finally some weight off my shoulders.”

Like a tree that wasn’t meant to be felled, Frisk is hoisted up ungracefully with a bit more than a few wobbles to their newly awakened person. Aofil hovers their hands around Frisk’s shoulders just in case they tilt too much the other way. While it might need a shove and a half for Frisk to tumble over the overlook’s cliff edge, it’s still not something Aofil would want to happen.

They can’t really think of anyone what would the contrary but that’s besides the point right now.

“Where are we?” Frisk asks through a sputtering cough. “Waterfall?” they guess as they move their head around to take in their newly awakened surroundings. “Why is there a pile of shattered glass over there? And there? Aofil?”

“No reason,” Aofil answers while pushing the remaining pile of pebbles and rocks next to them over the edge. It didn’t take an embarrassingly amount of throws to hit the cameras stationed around the overlook, but it didn’t take an impressive amount either. Had that been the case Aofil might’ve made a small stone tower to commemorate their ability to vandalize surveillance from The Man. 

Or The Monster, in this case. The Monsters, plural.

Like Undyne drumming her excited nails upon a clean pot soon to be dirtied by said excitement violently adding ingredients of various kinds and velocity, the pebbles hit the ground far below like piano keys playing a somber melody of their demise.

Unlike Undyne though, one must be aware of it happening for it to be heard. The sound doesn’t find you as in Undyne’s case, you have to find the sound. It would required half a boulder if not three quarters of one to produce the same volume as Undyne would with her previously tapping fingers playing her piano. The same excitement with the same ear piercing sound.

Not a complaint, just an observation.

“Is that rain?” Frisk asks as the echo from the pebbles find itself back up from the dark depths where not even the cyan glow can reach. “My eyes are really dry.” They rub their red eyes tiredly. It’s a red hue on their whites instead of on their iris, which is the better combination. Another calm to sooth Aofil’s tensed demeanor.

“Rain came and went,” Aofil says with a slow nod. They swipe their hand on their darkened spot on their chest where Chara pressed in Frisk’s face. “Came and went,” they repeat through a long inhale. “Hopefully never to be seen again,” they hide underneath the following exhale.

Frisk mirrors the inhale, if anything just to get used to the feeling again. “What did Chara want to talk to you about?” They move the unruly fringe hanging down over their eyes. The small swoop has something turning in Aofil’s head. With a mere flick of some hair, Frisk’s face goes from an almost acute appearance. Knife-like, almost, had Aofil not known the horrible implication that analogy would’ve made. Now its soft, round, and friendly as always with the fringe not casting those dark shadows over Frisk’s eyes. 

Did Chara know? Is that why they moved Frisk’s fringe over their eyes? Another way to have more control over Frisk? Or just to be a bit closer to the twin they wanted to say goodbye to? Does Aofil look the same? 

They flick their fringe too as subtly as they can.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” Aofil answers while massaging their thigh screaming its collective scream being held back by Frisk’s tired head sleeping on it. “So I gave them one. They seemed happy enough with it.”

“Thanks,” Frisk says with a thanking nod. “Glad to hear they got their wish fulfilled.”

The longing smile beginning to stretch Frisk’s lips doesn’t sit well with Aofil. “Don’t ever do that again,” they firmly ask with an accompanying shake to their head. “Just don’t.”

Frisk turns to see Aofil’s brow hanging so low their eyes almost becomes slits. They flinch back.

“You got it?” Aofil adds as they see that Frisk has understood their hardened furrow. “Never again.”

“Didn’t Chara say why they came out?”

The casual nature of Frisk’s retort sits worse with Aofil than what they’ve been doing for...well, they’ve lost the exact time, but way too long. Had they not been sitting on their tail they’d run the risk of hypothermia, maybe. Frisk should definitely get some fresh clothes though. Hopefully the set drying in the Lab has dried enough by now. Why Toriel didn’t hang the clothes to dry outside at Hotland is a question Aofil will have to ask later.

For now they can’t shake this feeling off them. Like the clinging wetness of their clothes it sticks to them no matter how hard they try to pull at it. They did their best not to let their thoughts fester. Chara was right about the castle being a soothing sight to look at. Aofil forgot the time entirely after they’d fixed the problem of not knowing which button on the remote that would loop the cameras again.

Frisk’s questioning answer has made Aofil aware of these thoughts they tried to push away. It’s not enough for Frisk to just say that they are Frisk now. They shouldn’t have to be this suspicious. They hate it, the feeling of distrust. It feels like betrayal, and it sickens Aofil. They don’t want to let this limb grow further. It’s already grown nerve endings and soft spots. “Yes,” they still decide to answer, “but from what I could tell your body were in good enough condition to straddle me like a play set and shrug off crashing afterwards. Why didn’t you take back control?” 

Please don’t let the knife come down on this limb they’ve grown to love.

Frisk’s eyes dart back and forth as if they’re glancing at an audience that’s in on a very obvious joke that Aofil isn’t. The faint glimmer from the castle has the subtle, irritating red in Frisk’s eyes turn back normal white for a split moment. “Because I wanted them to say goodbye,” they speak with a tone that’s almost mocking as to how obvious it is. Their playfully jumping eyebrows doesn’t really help either.

Aofil feels the sharp edge touch their limb, and they wince as it begins to peel at their skin.

“And you made this choice after making a risk assessment, I presume?” Aofil challenges with a harsh upwards throw of their hand. “Your head was spun enough to warrant Chara taking over, so maybe that wasn’t the most informed call you ever made, Frisk.”

Their skin has grown thick though throughout the years.

Frisk stays stalwart, as if standing up against a bully threatening their best friend. “Chara deserved it.” They extend their arm towards New Home while keeping their eyes locked hard on Aofil’s. “They are a part of me, and have been so for longer than they were their own, so their birthday wish becomes mine as well. Chara wanted to say goodbye to their family and see the castle again so that I gave them. Mom, dad, Asriel, you, and the castle.” Frisk punctuates by abruptly bouncing their arm from the castle to Aofil. “You were the only one they could talk to. I’m not stupid, Aofil, and neither is Chara. They wouldn’t have done anything to arouse suspicion. That would have jeopardized me, and everyone else.”

Jeopardized Chara’s host...

“Just humor me,” Aofil says with a plastered smile. “Why me? What makes you think I took this whole ordeal with stride?”

“You’re human,” Frisk replies as if to again remind the obvious. “The others are not. They won’t understand that Chara wouldn’t be able to be brought back. You know how much hassle it took to bring Asriel back. I don’t want mom and dad to even begin to think about building another Above Lab to research bringing back Chara, Aofil, and I’m sure you don’t either. They still love Chara. Chara was their child, and they will do anything they can to save their child if they’re allowed.”

What has gotten into Frisk?

Or better asked, what has gotten out of them?

Doesn’t give them the excuse to risk the memories though!

“And you will never allow them to, Frisk? They will never be the wiser?”

“No, they won’t,” Frisk shoots back, completely ignoring Aofil’s sarcastic tilt of their head and shoulders. “For reasons you are completely aware of!”

Alright, something is definitely wrong here. 

This isn’t Frisk.

It’s not Chara either. Something...in between? Aofil’s not sure. 

And they don’t like not being sure.

Aofil runs their eyes up and down Frisk’s stone faced expression. “Is Chara clinging onto your collective emotions still?” they prod to assess what Frisk might answer. Are they gonna be defensive of the emotions, or Chara? Maybe both? Aofil needs to get to the bottom of this, but they fear it might be deeper than what the pebbles fell before.

What melody will ring out from this piano piece? 

“Ah...” Frisk grabs their forehead with both their hands. “Shit.”

A very confused tapping on the ebonies… 

Aofil’s eyebrow almost flies off their forehead as they shoot up violently. “What?” spills out of their mouth one perplexed syllable at a time.

“Damn,” Frisk curses into the palm of their hands. “How harsh did I sound?”

Aofil wasn’t prepared for this amount of concern. Overwhelming, almost.

Through the small between Frisk’s pressing fingers an almost whistling sigh fights its way out. “Perhaps I did give Chara a bit too much leeway…” It is quickly followed by another more hollow sigh that’s accompanied by a subtle choke.

Oh...guess Aofil’s accusatory question was correct.

Ah, shit, indeed.

“How do you mean?” Aofil pries carefully after putting a steadying hand on Frisk’s quivering shoulder. The human leans back on Aofil for support while breathing hard inside their handy mask. “You gave them too much time?”

“Maybe...” Frisk answers after some quiet thinking. “Maybe they siphoned more than they were conscious of when talking to you. I feel a bit...empty. Like I have influenza or something. It’s not usually like this when Chara helps me recover.”

Aofil has to bite their tongue hard to not let it slip. Their pain is in vain though, as Frisk curls up harder from Aofil drumming out their contained energy onto the wet sweater shoulder. Just as hard as Undyne would her pot, but with the complete opposite emotion to it.

A minor scale for a major problem compared to a major scale for a minor problem.

“Shit,” Frisk again sighs into their palms before letting them fall down haphazardly. “Sorry, I should’ve waited a bit before answering you.” They drag a quaking inhale through their nose. “Chara didn’t do it willingly though. I promise, I feel that they didn’t.”

Aofil only shortly hums.

“Not a lot I can say to convince you, Aofil?”

Aofil looks down at the darkened spot where Chara bored Frisk’s head into. “Don’t think so,” they acknowledge with a nod. “Not now, that is. I need some time too, I feel.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” Frisk coughs out while straightening their back. “It was just supposed to have Chara be happy and then I’d continue like nothing happened, just how we usually do.”

“You saying ‘usually’ is doing everything but helping this situation, Frisk,” Aofil says before slamming their teeth back down on their tongue to keep it in place.

“Too casual?”

A single, firm nod is given as an answer.

“Guess I have to wait a bit more for my emotions.” Frisk curls up in their legs just like how Chara did. Or maybe Chara did it because Frisk does it? Or maybe Frisk does it now because Chara still has influence and-

AAAAARRRGGGHH!!!

And Aofil has knocked off all the rocks nearby already!

DOUBLE AAAARRRGGGHH!!!

“Here.”

Aofil grabs whatever it is Frisk is handing to them, and chucks it as far as they can. Its not a heavy object, yet it carries with it Aofil’s anger as it sails merrily into the dark depths underneath the overlook. Aofil catches only a mere glimpse of it as it spins on its axis from Aofil’s hard throw. A familiar reflection blinks as it reflects the glimmer of the surrounding crystals.

It is...was...Aofil’s phone.

TRIPLE-

No…

No, Aofil threw out their shoulder. They can feel that now. They can’t be angry now, they feel like they to fold over half to hold it in.

Dammit.

Their patch of fur begins to warm up, and the strange, almost sickening, feeling from it begins traveling up Aofil’s arm and across their torso.

And now they’re feeling too sick to be angry.

They heave a weary sigh.

“I thought...” they begin to explain, but trail off as they mimic Frisk putting up their hands to their face. Aofil blows their lips while they shake their head.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk again apologizes. “It slipped out of your pocket, and I-”

“No, no that was me,” Aofil assures while their hands slide down their brightening cheeks. “That was me.”

“Maybe...” Frisk angles their head downwards, leaning their forehead against their tucked in knees. “Maybe we should just be quiet for a moment?”

That sounds like a good idea. Aofil lean themselves back with their fur covered arm underneath the back of their head. It’s soft, and Aofil needs something soft to rest their head on for now. They can’t really lean on their other arm since they’ve injured that shoulder, so it finds itself resting gently on Aofil’s stomach.

A joint sigh is thrown against a warm breeze coming from Hotland. The two humans turn their heads to see if it was Sans, but to their immense relief it was but the wind.

Deary me…

This quiet was something Aofil needed. Frisk too. It’s not an anxious one like when Frisk was asleep but a couple of minutes ago. It’s more of an agreed silence. A cease fire, almost. The two sides agreeing to put things aside for a short while so they can recuperate.

Aofil is gonna eat so much cake later.

The monsters will stare at them like they’ve gone mad, and tomorrow Aofil is gonna feel like absolute shit because of that. However, it’s gonna be because they themselves made a bad decision, not because they have to take the weight from someone else’s decision. It’s gonna be because they did a bad, not because someone else did a bad that became a bad for Aofil as well.

So. Much. Cake! 

Aofil pats their stomach with their now healed arm.

Cake will be pouring out of their ears when they’re done.

They can feel a soothing calm flush throughout them. A mix of their fur completing its work, and their sweet tooth sharing the good news to Aofil’s stomach and head. They take the first breath of clean air in what feels as forever. Waterfall has been up to their ears ever since Chara told Aofil that they were back, and finally it has receded. 

All because of the thought of having some of Muffet’s cake.

Aofil scoffs a chuckle.

Yup, they’re definitely in love. Gotta remember to thank Muffet later for that.

And maybe a bit more.

So now that Aofil’s distracted themselves enough to think properly, what about Frisk?

Aofil rolls their head to the side, sizing the bent over human breathing deeply and sighing even deeper into their soaked jeans and sticking sweater.

‘Naive’ is the word that first pops into Aofil’s head. That’s what Frisk is. Naive about Chara, naive about themselves, naive about Chara and themselves. 

‘Hopeful’ is the second word that kicks in the door inside Aofil’s head, followed by ‘trusting’, ‘loving’, ‘selfless’, the list goes on. The list ends just as it begins though, with ‘naive’. It’s the only word that comes up twice, but sandwiched between it, the toppings to the naive sandwich makes the bitter bread seem puny, almost insignificant.

The beginning and end are the same, but the journey between Aofil can’t for the life of them find something wrong about.

Frisk is too good, even for their own…

That Chara and Aofil can agree on. That’s where the two think like twins would. Same same, but different. Chara from knowing Frisk inside out, and Aofil for knowing Frisk outside in, meeting at ‘naive’ in the middle.

Good kid though, will be a good adult as well. Just gotta keep the soul friend close and not let Chara wander off.

Oh yes, Aofil sure did need this damn silence. 

They push themselves up sitting with an involuntary groan. “Let’s get another Nice Cream,” they suggest after drumming on their legs. It makes a borderline splashing sound, and the cold has each slap reverberating into their bones.

Woke them up, at the very least.

“Did Chara get you one?” Frisk mutters into their legs.

Looks like Frisk needs a bit more silence. “I’ll get one for you,” Aofil offers while preparing to stand up. They slide one leg back and brace their hand on their bent knee. “Uh...there’s only one flavor, right?” Just in case Aofil picks the wrong one for Frisk.

“Are you angry at them or at me?”

Aofil’s leg slides back over the cliff edge. “I’m not angry, Frisk.”

“Just disappointed,” Frisk finishes.

“No,” Aofil says while struggling to hide their smile. Toriel must be using that line constantly, with each time saying it while crossing her arms and tilting her head down, her ears flopping forward as she says that she’s disappointed.

Maybe Aofil had a bit too much silence…

They take a breath to normalize themselves a bit closer to Frisk. They’ll save the smiles for when Frisk can summon one too.

“I’m tired,” Aofil explains while waving their hand in front of their face. “Face, body, soul. Weathered from everything we’ve done. Although, I can’t admit that I haven’t gotten a bit desensitized. Still, you should have talked to me about this before, I feel. Did you plan for Chara to come out?”

“No, we didn’t plan it, but once Chara was out I...”

Aofil puts as warm as a hand that they have on the back of Frisk’s head. Their finger can’t even run through the hair, it is so wet. “You said why earlier.”

“If you knew it would’ve been worse if I asked.”

“Worse for me?” Aofil asks to clarify. They get a meager nod in answer, Aofil only picking it up from their hand. “Yeah, probably. Blissfully unaware and all that.”

“Hm...”

“You made a risky call, Frisk. Just don’t do it again, alright? Chara can’t control your body properly, which is for the best. They thought so as well, didn’t they?”

“Yeah...” slips out of Frisk as if they’re fighting it back. It’s too true for even them to dismiss though.

“To be completely honest, I might’ve felt like Chara was about to jump your body off the cliff at any moment,” Aofil admits with guilt overflowing. “I only really played along.” Their face freezes for a split second. “Chara can’t hear us right now, can they?”

Wait...why does Aofil care?

“No,” Frisk answers after closing their eyes for a few long seconds.

And why this overwhelming relief inside Aofil?

That turns into a sinking disappointment? A realization? Chara can’t hear Aofil saying that they don’t care, but that also means they can’t hear Aofil-

Maybe…

Oh…

So that’s how it is.

“Can you make them hear us?” Aofil wonders carefully.

Frisk lifts their head with a small gasp. They turn it slowly to Aofil smiling sheepishly back.

“Just for a moment?”

Frisk again closes their eyes. They nod a second afterwards before slowly opening them again. Something small tugs inside Aofil. Could be Asriel reacting, or it could be Aofil. Anyways… “Thanks.”

“For what?” Frisk can’t help but ask back.

“You bringing them out. In the end it all worked out, right? So all in all your mistake was...good. I’m not saying don’t do it again, I don’t think any of the three of us would want this to happen again, but it did, and Chara and I got to say goodbye to the other. You’re a good person for sharing your birthday like this, Frisk. Thank you.”

Frisk tilts their head over towards the New Home castle. “Thank you,” they mouth back.

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

That was both Chara and Frisk speaking, Aofil can tell. The only time they’re gonna humor Chara and Frisk sharing the body, just once.

Their only one time for Frisk’s only one time.

It will sink away in due time, and Aofil has an idea how to kick start that progress.

“Let’s get some Nice Cream,” they again offer as they stand up. They offer their hand to help Frisk up. “I want something to snack on for your battle against MK.”


	159. Human to human

“Be sure to tell all your friends!”

Aofil throws their hand over their shoulder in a quick wave towards the Nice Cream puppet smiling behind its stand.

“Just a minute first, please,” it asks friendly while beckoning for Aofil to come closer. Its smile grows impatient, and its ears begin to tug from side to side. Is it looking for reception perhaps?

“I think it might be Toriel,” Aofil whispers to Frisk as they hand over their unwrapped Nice Cream for Frisk to hold for a moment. “Perhaps best if I take it.”

Frisk nods in agreement, turning the corner to sit down on the box to wait.

With eyes forced close and hands pushing hard against their ears, Aofil gives the puppet some time to dislocate its jaw and whatever other eldritch possessions it has to get out of its system before it’s entirely remote controlled.

They only open their eyes and remove their hands when they feel a clumsy tap on their shoulder.

“Your costume!” the puppet whispers harshly. “What happened?”

Aofil looks down on the hollow suit of scales they’ve tied around their waste underneath their sweater that they’ve bored some arm holes out of. “I...” they begin while scratching their cheek. “I tripped.” Their casual shrug has the forced holes through their sweater unravel some more.

The puppet’s head moves back in distrust. “That was part of the script though, Aofil. Your costume should’ve survived you tripping in it,” it explains. Well, it interrogates, that much is clear. Aofil can’t really blame whoever is behind the mic. They have a few suspicions, but it is hard to tell right now with the tone of voice of the puppet. Its cheerful and uplifting demeanor does not lend for the actual tone of its words to come through so easily. It has Aofil bracing for when it does.

“Did Asriel explain why it took so long?” they decides to ask before they’re asked it themselves. Gives them a bit more room to maneuver their answer in what’s surely to be one hell of a storm. Again they brace.

There’s a brief pause.

Uh oh.

Aofil takes an instinctive step back.

They can feel Asriel freezing in fear all the way from the Lab inside them. For being just a sliver of soul from a monster, it grips the part of Aofil’s soul that is human like an iron fist. Must mean that Asriel’s heart is about to burst out of his horns to escape the situation going on over there.

Or maybe Aofil is just bracing themselves for the Nice Cream Guy puppet to unhinge its jaw again.

One or the two.

Maybe both.

“He...”

Oh that is way too long a pause to be anyone else but Toriel. Not something Aofil can cheer about though. Sometimes being right is the worst outcome.

“...didn’t.”

Aofil takes a second step back.

Frisk peeks their inquisitive head around the corner, Nice Creams occupying both their hands. They shrug a question to Aofil before nodding to the Nice Creams.

“Toriel,” Aofil mouths over their shoulder while sawing in front of their throat. “Asriel didn’t explain,” they stage whisper over.

Frisk’s eyes grow into plates. “Mom’s gonna kill him.” Their iris contract as if they’re staring directly into the sun. They’re staring at something about to burn more violent though. “You gotta get him out of there!”

Aofil should. Asriel still has a role to play in the script, and Toriel might not realize that until it’s too late. Besides, Aofil left their resurrecting pants at home, so bringing Asriel back again will be a bit more of a hassle this time.

Yes, a very bad call on their part not to always keep those pants on. Naive, almost, but they need to be washed at least one time.

Too bad they chose the time where Asriel’s at the risk of dying.

And Aofil isn’t morbidly curious enough to see if a child version of them takes over akin to Chara when Asriel’s in mortal danger.

“Speaking of Asriel,” Aofil anxiously chuckles to the puppet after clearing their throat of their heart, “could you send him along with MK for the fight?”

Another long pause, each second passing stretching further than that god damn love triangle arc in the first Mew Mew season. Too long, that is. Way too long and way too melodramatic.

“Why?” flows out of the puppets mouth like a waterfall of poison. Whatever nullification of the tone the puppet’s demeanor and friendly outlook did is washed away underneath the slow and rugged movement of its robotic mouth spilling a torrent of malicious vile and bitter.

Aofil has to take a moment to collect themselves. The puppet has now inherited Toriel’s hard stare, colder than the depths of Snowdin. What Aofil is seeing is a step down from what she’s really doing though. The monitor in the Lab must be shattering under her intimidating gaze.

If the CORE cake is still standing after this Aofil will be mighty impressed.

“He...” 

“He?” the puppet repeats.

“He and MK were to cooperate during the fight, correct?” Aofil conjures out of a hat made out of air. “Using the remote?”

The puppet’s head begins to violently nod, almost slamming into its Nice Cream stand. Aofil gives the freezer on wheels a slight tug, just in case. They’d rather not see the mechanic structure underneath should the puppet crack the fur off its face against the sharp edge of the Nice Cream freezer.

Aofil has accidentally seen enough Mettaton pin-ups to know that robots aren’t their thing.

“Stop,” the puppet commands, seizing its nodding with an abrupt halt that has its ears almost tearing away from the top of its blue furry head. “We’ll speak about this later, Asriel.” The puppet sighs. “I trust you and Frisk have already done the routine enough for your part, Aofil. Come back here after Frisk’s fight with MK.”

“Will do.”

Aofil turns around before the puppet has time to seize itself back into control. They do it in the nick of time, as Frisk immediately averts their eyes as they turn their head back around the corner. Blindly, they hand over Aofil’s Nice Cream back to them. “Why does it unhinge its mouth like that?”

“Beats me.”

Frisk shudders with a tensed grimace.

“I think Asriel forgot to inform Toriel,” Aofil explains with an exasperated exhale as they unwrap their frozen treat that will hopefully warm their heart. God knows they need some warmth right now.

“He might survive courtesy of your soul inside him,” Frisk adds while opening their own treat. “Gonna be close though.”

Before they have time to sample it though, the box underneath them bounces to life. In their startled confusion their Nice Cream arcs gracefully away from their scared and opened hand before landing in a nearby puddle with a splat.

Oh, how err it is to human. How err it is to enjoy a Nice Cream, apparently. Aofil better hold on to theirs tightly before they drop theirs a second time. Seems to be tradition for the humans of today to drop them on the ground like this.

With lips pouted in annoyance, Frisk opens up the box, which expands their rounded lips into a slightly surprised expression. “Oh.” They retrieve a pair of warm towels and a dry set of clothes that they bounce in their arms. “I guess one towel is for you.”

“Maybe Toriel isn’t so angry after all,” Aofil comments before putting the entirety of their Nice Cream inside their mouth to free up their hands for the towel Frisk hands over.

What they receive is indeed fluffy, and indeed warm, but it’s not much a towel as it is a shortcutted Asriel smiling maniacally as he throws himself towards Aofil.

“You just saved my life!”

The sudden gust of wind combined with the large pairs of fuzzy hands desperately grabbing Aofil’s shoulder has them gasping, inhaling their Nice Cream while an overbearingly relieved Asriel shakes their body like a paint blender.

“Mom was about to kill me!”

Aofil can only gurgle viscerally in response. “Gah! Ahk...stahg!” Their painfully cold guttural noises falls on deaf floppy ears though that smack with the same sound as Aofil’s tongue perilously trying to vacate the Nice Cream from Aofil’s freezing throat.

With a vicious cough the Nice Cream is launched with the same cyan color Undyne’s magic has when she conjures spears during the frantic scenes of Mew Mew.

Ploof.

“Sorry, I-”

Asriel’s hasty apology is interrupted by Aofil inhaling as much air as they are capable of plus a bit of interest from the temporary panic quickly subsiding. 

“We’ll just go...” he says while quickly turning on his embarrassed heels. “Right, Sans?”

But there is no Sans.

“He went in for some Nice Cream,” MK explains after throwing up his helm’s visor with a quick snap of his neck. “Yo, Frisk, excited?”

Frisk nods with a knowing smile. “Can’t wait.”

“Neither can I!” MK replies. “It’s gonna be awesome to be Undyne proper! Prepare yourself, human! Ngahahahahaha!”

“I can tell,” Frisk closes off with a friendly chuckle while taking the two Nice Creams handed to them from a sauntering Sans. “You have her laughter down to a tee.” They unwrap one and hand it to MK who gladly chomps down with an eager bite.

“She was eager to teach me.”

“I can imagine.”

“they didn’t have cough drop flavor, aof,” Sans laments with a heavy heart after dunking on Aofil’s back. “but you’re not picky, are you?”

Aofil can only cough in response.

“figured as much.” Sans hands Aofil another unwrapped Nice Cream. “dammit,” he sighs before Aofil can grab the stick, “i forgot the punch card.”

“I’ll fetch it,” Frisk offers as they nod inwards the road to the Nice Cream stand. “Gotta change either way. You shortcut away now.”

Asriel meets their sibling’s eyes for a moment before averting, leaving a concerned frown on Frisk, who sends it over to a recuperating Aofil.

Does Asriel know?

“Eh...” Asriel chuckles as he notices the rather weighty human eyes laying hard upon him. “I was just thinking...”

The eyes fall heavier upon him, and Asriel’s forced to sigh in admittance. “Sorry for ruining the immersion,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile. “Kinda broke the fourth wall with a sledgehammer back in Snowdin.”

Oh!

The heavy eyes fly off into the sky, they’re so relieved!

“Don’t read much into it,” Frisk assures with a long arm around Asriel’s neck. “You’re not smart enough too.” They dangle the fourth unwrapped Nice Cream in front of Asriel’s bent down muzzle. “Nibbles, Azzy, otherwise you’ll get brain freeze.”

With a brotherly shove, Frisk’s arm is returned to them. The unwrapped Nice Cream stays though, and is quickly unwrapped and shoved into the now bent upwards muzzle. “I-”

Like a fourth dimensional structure, Asriel’s muzzle begins to bend in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible, almost inverting inside out. He grabs his temples with an audible bleat that bounces throughout the entirety of Waterfall. The embarrassment from his cryogenic cry heats him up enough for his brain freeze to stop as abruptly as it started. His eyes dart across his surrounding party, all with Nice Creams teetering on falling out of their gaping mouths.

“Heh,” he produces.

Immediately after he grabs both Sans’ and MK’s hands.

“you only have my beautiful visage, but not my magic,” Sans reminds with a smug smi-

“SHORTCUT!” Asriel shouts back.

Like a silent snap, the three monsters vanish, leaving a small vacuum that’s filled in by the air around it. It sweeps at Frisk and Aofil’s hair, and the two share a look. Aofil’s tail comes up to scratch at the back of their head.

Oh! Nice! It’s still working!

“Good to see that things are as normal,” Frisk says after a couple of silent beats. “I don’t think he suspected anything. I’ll be redressing and fetching that punch card now.”

“Normal in our case,” Aofil corrects after nodding for Frisk to go ahead with their clothes switch. They lean themselves on the wall next to the entrance. “As far from the human condition as possible, that is.”

“You’re the one in love with a monster,” Frisk shouts from inside following a loud splat of damp fabric.

That’s not untrue…

“You and I are so closely connected with monsters that I’m surprised that we haven’t been able to do magic of our own just from the amount of magical residue we’ve had put on us.” Aofil slurps up some eager drops of melted Nice Cream about to escape from their lower lip. “Well, you more than I, to be honest,” they add while moving their Nice Cream like a brush on an invisible canvas.

A rather interpretive motif manifests upon the imaginary canvas before Aofil realizes that their Nice Cream is about to slid off its stick. They put it back safely inside their mouth.

“Your soul though,” Frisk retorts with a careful pat on their now dry chest.

True, though.

“Pray tell,” Frisk asks as they pop their newly inserted Nice Cream out of their mouth with an audible plop. “Don’t you mean disappointed instead of surprised?”

“Ehhhhhhhh...” Aofil shrugs slowly, “not really. I mean, I only recently let Toriel heal me like she wanted too. Last time I had actual healing done on me was from my dad.”

“Right,” Frisk nods with a sharp inhale as they realize the sore spot they accidentally prodded. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m over it. Thank you, though.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Frisk says while straining their mouth not to.

“About my dad’s magic?” Aofil hazards a guess. Not really a lot of other questions that would be as inappropriate as Frisk’s congested expression makes it out to be.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t remember.”

“It’s more that-” Frisk shuts themselves up by taking another long suckle on their Nice Cream. They seem to be two minds about this. Looks like the mind that holds them back also coincides with the mind that enjoys Nice Cream. Could be that both minds enjoy the Nice Cream and Frisk stuffing their mouth is the two meeting halfway?

Aofil steps over the sharp crystal their last Nice Cream produced without as much as a thought.

“You’re curious that humans might have the potential for magic still?”

Frisk shakes their head, breaking off half the Nice Cream in their mouth. They glance at the exposed stick with half the joke visible. The punchline is still hidden underneath the piece that is left, but slowly sliding off. “I’m worried, if anything. What with the last time war happened and all. By now we’d noticed if monsters could still absorb souls after the Barrier broke, and we haven’t a single one. We haven’t done any experiments, but you know...”

“Pretty sure we’d heard something about humans being capable of magic too by now, or maybe even by the time I left Ebott,” Aofil answers with a shrug.

“So your dad was just a one time happening?”

“What he told me when I was...dying...was that he got it from the Barrier. Like you said, it’s gone now, so...”

“Yeah.”

“Or, you know, the more human answer would be that I was hallucinating my dead family, including Chara. They didn’t have any recollection of the event, so evidence pointing towards biology rather than magic, it seems.” Aofil tenses their forearm while cupping their fingers, but nothing happens inside their impromptu magical cage. “Asriel isn’t doing a lot for me either, and not to brag or anything, but I would probably be the first one to show any symptoms.”

“Well, Asriel isn’t doing a lot of magic for himself, to be honest. I haven’t managed anything either.”

“Not for lack of trying?” Aofil pries with a raised eyebrow.

The answer arrives in the form of a sigh, stamped through loose lips. “Not at all. It’s good that you’re a bit more comfortable talking about this, Aofil. I don’t really have any other human I can talk to about this.”

Dang, Aofil’s blood sugar must’ve been lower than the depths underneath the overlook. Just a couple of minutes ago they spat poison about thinking about their family like this, and now they’re debunking it heartily. Nice Cream sure does warm the heart, and spikes the blood sugar. Spiking means coming back to normal in this case though, if only for a little while.

“But what about that builder guy?” Frisk perks with their mouth almost frozen to their Nice Cream.

“Scared and panicked, most likely,” Aofil answers solemnly after some short but intensive thinking where they only realize their cold lips when they begin speaking. “He didn’t have any scars on his exposed stomach like the pastor has across his back, so again, biology points away from magic.”

“Scars?” Frisk taps their lower teeth against the exposed stick, making it bounce rhythmically like a one sided seesaw. “Huh...”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if humans began with some research into magic though. Don’t think, and hope, that it’ll lead anywhere, but the interest sure has been sparked one way or another. I’ve seen plenty of monster taking interest in human matters, so the opposite isn’t really a stretch of the imagination.”

“True.”

Aofil’s eyes narrow as a thought strike them harder than Undyne would her training dummy. Their mouth curls just like how Undyne’s training dummy would when she’d turn away from it. 

"Of all the magic around, all the sparkles, fire, and colorful explosions and objects the monster can make manifest, the most I've ever seen any of the monsters have fun is when a couple of kids from a couple of classes under yours rode a wonky supermarket trolley across the store's gravely parking lot."

Frisk has to take their Nice Cream out of their mouth lest it falls out of its rounded and perplexed shape.

“That younger human and the posse of monsters they always surround themselves with? ‘Fun Gang’, I think they’re known as in their class.”

Still wide opened.

“Large, pink lizard monster, a bit of a bully and chomps chalk loudly as if trying to vanish out of class from the ensuing smokescreen,” Aofil begins as they move what’s left on their own Nice Cream to their cheek. “Another one is blue, smaller, rounder, much rounder. Quite the character, although he very obviously takes a lot of it from his friends. Big into cards though, apparently. Third is...kinda like a smaller Asriel, except not.”

“Like a...”

“Goat, yes,” Aofil finishes off Frisk’s hesitating describing. It’s better that they say it since they have history of being clumsy with not equating the monster with animals. They’re already tainted, where as Frisk is not. “I’ve learned enough to not assume that he’s a Boss Monster, and I’m sure Toriel would’ve told me beforehand if that were the case. Big pink glasses and a bit smaller pink horns. Very well spoken for his age and makes friend faster than a blink. He gave me a slice of cake once when I substituted for Alphys, so I’m living proof to that.”

“New Mew Mew release? That why you had to substitute?”

“I watched it later with her and Undyne so it was fine. I really shouldn’t have had the cake while watching with them though, it was way too sweet and I had to brush my teeth twice as long to get the taste out of my mouth.”

Frisk shakes their head. “I don’t think I’ve seen him in school. I would’ve noticed someone looking like Asriel. Wouldn’t other monsters take notice too?”

True…and strange.

“Or I could’ve just have missed him,” Frisk admits with a casual shrug. “And really, I’ve only seen a fraction of what the monsters can look like, even having lived in the midst of them.”

“If you say so.”

“What about the human?” Frisk pries further, now with a very curious lean forward which endangers their remaining Nice Cream from slipping off. “There are a few more than one now in the classes under Asriel’s and mine.”

“Kris...I think the human’s name is,” Aofil answers after some thinking. “Almost slipped your name towards them a few time.”

“I think I’ve heard that name before. How do they look like?”

“Has terrible dark brown hair that looks like a bird’s nest with an accompanying Waterfall of hair going down their almost sleepless face?” Aofil adds to their description while covering their eyes with their hand.

“Oh!” Frisk shines up. “Right, that one.”

That one?

“Asriel had Kris as a sorta school big brother one year.” Frisk explains after seeing Aofil’s furrowed expression emerge as they remove their hand. “To help with smoothing over being a human at a monster school, you know?”

“You don’t remember your brother being a school big brother to a human?” Aofil challenges with a very perplexed falsetto.

“It was just for a couple of time a semester,” Frisk defends with a dynamic throw of their hand and completely vacated Nice Cream stick. “Like I said, humans are becoming the norm now, so it’s good that I’m mixing them up, ey?” 

Whatever you say...

“I’m...guessing that’s a bit later in the semester,” Aofil thinks out loud. “Guess I’ll see it in a while then?”

This semester is their first one teaching for Toriel’s school so there are quite a few events they’ve not yet experienced. Well...not first first semester, but now first semester

“Right, right,” Frisk realizes with a couple of quick nods. “Well, anyways, Asriel got Kris as his human, and I got a deer monster named Noelle as my monster.”

“Is she the one who’s dad is in the hospital?”

“Not anymore, he’s been discharged.”

Good to hear.

“Susie, the lizard, and Kris tried to skip class by offering to fetch some more chalk when I did my substitution. Kris’ face turned almost as pale as mine when I waved the three full packages I’d brought in advance, halted Susie at the door too. You could almost hear the heel of her feet slamming through the floor and the door handle being crushed inside her hand. Alphys told me before that the two liked to volunteer for that.” Aofil’s smug smile drains into a thoughtful sneer.

“Fetch chalk from the storage room further down the crossing after the entrance?” Frisk wonders while playing a bit on their Nice Cream stick fastened in their teeth.

“Yeah… I mean, where else would they get the chalk from?”

“The few times I’ve seen that Fun Gang, besides Ralsei that is,” Frisk corrects with a slight twirl of their stick, “has been around that storage room.”

Really? “Really?” Aofil asks back while scratching their lobe with the end of their own Nice Cream stick.

“Yeah, that’s why I remembered when you described Kris’ hair. I see them there almost every day at the end of the lunch break.”

“End of the lunch break?” Aofil asks to clarify. They did send Kris and Susie off around lunch to fetch some supplies from that room, if anything just to have the two get some color back onto their faces. Come to think of it, Aofil didn’t see Lancer or Ralsei until after the lunch break.

Same thing every single time Aofil’s substituted for Alphys…

Oh…

Oh!

Of course! It’s so obvious!

They’re just in different morning classes.

The thought did briefly glance off Aofil’s mind that perhaps the storage was an entrance to another world or something, but pretty sure another Barrier wouldn’t have been able to be erected in a newly built school, and in the storage room of all places.

Aofil allows themselves a brief chuckle.

Silly thought.

“Seven!” bellows MK with Undyne’s imposing poise, turning Aofil’s brief chuckle into a long one as they see the darkened and intimidating silhouette standing on top of the smaller mountain within a mountain.

“I’ll be exiting stage right then,” Aofil informs Frisk. They offer to take their empty Nice Cream stick as well which Aofil pockets. Out of the corner of their eye they see Asriel wave them over. “Good luck, human,” Aofil finishes off to a chortling Frisk before heading into the shadows and off stage.

“Seven layers of cake, and this birthday will become complete!”


	160. Soaked soul

“Six. That’s how many layers we’ve baked so far. Understand? Through your seventh and final soul extract, this world will be transformed into the most splendid of feasts. We will return to the Surface to celebrate! First, however, as is customary for those who make it this far...”

“Pushing it a bit with the speech and cake motif, aren’t we?” Aofil whispers to Asriel who hushes harshly back, stopping just short of spitting in Aofil’s face.

“I shall tell you the tragic and unsweetened tale of our people,” MK says as he dramatically turns on top the large and spiky miniature mountain. Aofil’s gonna just tell themselves that the monsters have prepared for if MK were to slip and tumble down so they’re not worried that it might happen. Granted, he has armor on him, but it would still leave some bruising once he reached the ground.

“It all started, long ago...” MK begins with a solemn sigh akin to when he got his nose stuck inside a large beaker a couple of weeks ago during one of Aofil’s lessons. Same echo to it too. Hopefully less wild swinging this time. Well, uncontrollable wildly swinging. There’s no doubt that wild swinging is about to happen in glorious splendor. His dramatic pause goes on for a few more seconds than it should, leaving Frisk looking around to see if they’ve missed something. “No, you know what?” MK shouts while whipping his head down towards Frisk turning their head back and smiling eagerly. “SCREW IT!”

Frisk begins to rub their hands in anticipation.

Only to realize their palms are sticking together from the residue melted off their recently eaten Nice Cream. They squeeze their hands together as if touching for the first time in their life.

“WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU THAT STORY!”

“Dammit...”

Aofil cocks their head to Asriel looking down with a vacant stare to his eyes and with his lower jaw hanging as if on a windy piece of string as his painted furry hands move in panicked bursts from pocket to pocket. Each time he pushes against his puffy jacket with his hurried hands it sighs like a groan.

“WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE?!?”

MK tilts his blue head back, pointing it up towards the ceiling while he screams his lungs out.

“Do you have the remote?” Asriel asks in half a panic to Aofil, again just short of chucking a fine mist of spit in Aofil’s face.

“No, Frisk has it,” comes a quick answer all the while MK keeps screaming. “Ain’t got pockets since I wasn’t supposed to use my arms for today.”

“NGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Shit.” Asriel springs out of the hidden crevice, silently tiptoeing along his long steps. He moves like an old cartoon, stretching his legs further than they should be able too. That could also be the way the skeleton paint on his legs extends into thin white stripes with each step he takes.

“NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAHHHHHhhhh!”

Just keeps on screaming, doesn’t he? Sounds like MK is starting to run out of air though. His cheeks are beginning to turn purple.

“NNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

As subtly as he can, Asriel carefully taps on Frisk’s shoulder. After some quick gesticulation Frisk hands over the remote which Asriel hurriedly presses on.

“Nnnnnngggaaaa-”

A flash illuminates the top of the mountain, and amid it MK takes a desperate and greedy breath. He coughs violently before taking another, so violently that he almost knocks away the light with his hacks.

Maybe Aofil should be the adult that they are and make sure that MK is alright before things continue.

“YOU!”

Too late for that.

MK spins around on his heel so that his back is exposed for increased dramatic effect. His extruding spikes are painted a bright red to coincide with the long wig fastened on top his blue painted head with a suction cup. Menacingly, he turns his cheek to expose his one opened eye. Asriel presses another button while backpedaling back to the hidden crevice, and a smaller, more focused flash has MK’s yellow eye glimmer. A nearby speaker makes a soft sound akin to flipping a coin.

Aofil can’t help but let an impressed “Nice” spill out of them.

Because it sure is.

“You’re standing in the way of everybody’s hopes and dreams!” MK declares with authority pushed through his quavering voice filled with excitement galore. “Your reserved it’s-fine-I-don’t-want-presents-schtick won’t work on me, human! I am going to give you something that will be remembered for so long you won’t even dare to forget it!”

Frisk has to let that threat sink in for a bit before they shake their amused head with an accompanying chuckle. They seem to be looking forward to it.

“Because I. Am. Undyne!” MK roars with delight. “I am the coolest, strongest, and coolest monster!”

“I think he might be going a bit off the script now,” Aofil points out to a returning Asriel. They get a knowing nod back as an answer.

“Can’t really blame him,” Asriel adds as he squats down next to Aofil in the crevice. “He is his childhood hero now, after all. He’s been waiting for this ever since we used to play ‘Undyne & Human’ when we were smaller with Frisk.”

Oh yeah, Aofil remembers that. Shame they didn’t this time around. 

Yeah...deep shame…

“It was to help me get used to things,” Asriel explains with a slight tilt down of his head. “Eventually I got around to being ‘King Asgore’ without crying from the guilt that came rushing back to me. Seeing MK go all out like he tried to when we were kids is fucking amazing. I can’t really put it any other way.”

“Right...”

Aofil’s sudden thoughtful expression has Asriel scouring in the dark for any rocky protrusion sharp enough to warrant such a hard and vacant stare. “Is there a rock stabbing you or was it me swearing?”

Aofil hums a question mark as they meet Asriel’s eyes. “Oh, no,” they realize. “I just fell into some thinking, that’s it. You swear how much you want, just not in my classroom.”

“Fluffbun fine by me.”

“Don’t push it, prince.”

“Now!” MK bellows through a monstrous cackle. Monstrous even for monsters, that is. “Prepare yourself, human!” He spins around, exposing his cyan painted tail, knocking a foam spear down the mountain for Frisk to use. They pick it up with a boasting spin to it before wrapping their hands tightly around it.

They’re not gonna drop it anytime soon with the Nice Cream glue coating their hands.

“Ready to beat your heart with Undyne’s?” Asriel shoots over with a smile while flaunting the remote in his hand.

“I’m part monster so I guess I have to,” Aofil answer with an approving nod as they tap their chest respectfully. “Go right ahead.”

And with a quick press, the cavern is filled with music. Energetic music, awesome music. Music you can fight to, music you can inspire to.

Sounds just like Undyne.

“NGGGGAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

And that does too.

MK descends the small mountain on eager and excited steps which cushion his rapid landings on uneven spikes, immediately jumping to the next one without pause for thought or balance. Maybe he’s trying to be quicker than gravity? Seems to be working, despite the logical side of Aofil’s brain protesting violently against that ridiculous notion.

Well...yeah...it’s the monsters, of course it’s gonna be ridiculous.

Hm…

Maybe Aofil is starting to concede a bit too much ground to their monster acceptance when they’re willing to hand wave away a fundamental rule being broken just on a whim. That’s for later though when the spectacle and cake devouring is over.

At the bottom of the mountain Frisk awaits with foam spear in hand, knees bouncing in rhythm with the music, and with just a wide a smile as MK has.

“Less spinning this time?” Aofil wonders with a bit of hesitation lining their words. The cloud their words form is white and fluffy, just as the monster they asked the question too, but the lining is dark. They realize that a bit too late, but hopefully Asriel won’t see it where he stands now. His focus is now entirely on the battle that’s right about to ensue, which might help as well.

“No more souls for Frisk to hold, no.” Asriel throws an absentminded nod behind him. “It’s in the corner if you want to see what it looks like. We took out the magic contraption inside it, much to Alphys’ not-really-protesting-but-still-a-bit-lamenting sigh.”

He could’ve just said ‘defeated sigh’, but whatever.

Aofil rolls their head over their shoulder as they reach with their tail towards the corner Asriel nodded at. There is indeed something heart shaped there, but it’s quite hard to pick up with their tail. It just slips off like an ice cube rubbed in soap.

“You doing alright?” Asriel pips over with a small and subtle stare. The rhythmic thudding from the heart slipping out of Aofil’s grasp is a bit annoying, to say the least. Had it been in rhythm to the music it would’ve been fair enough, but it’s not. Not even to the backbeat.

Aofil retorts with a pair of lowered eyebrows. “You ever tried to wrap your tail around something this flimsy?” Their eyebrows shoot up immediately as they hear their own words.

Oh…

Wow…

Now that was a long time ago. Damn, Aofil’s gone full circle now. ML, all the way back then at the hospital. Aofil promised him they’d make sure no one’s bullying MK. Well, no one’s bullying him now, so promise fulfilled?

Aofil can’t help but scoff a chuckle as they bring their tail around to look at it. What a strange life they’ve had. Not one they’d wish upon anyone else, but it’s the life that was given to them.

For better or worse.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Asriel is quick to defend seeing Aofil’s face melt into solemn thoughtfulness. “I’ll just keep watching the fight then...” he says reservedly after waiting for an answer that will never arrive. 

Aofil didn’t even hear the apology.

“NGAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!” MK taunts while whipping his spear textured tail against Frisk who blocks it with their own spear. Meanwhile, the song begins building its crescendo, and MK takes a step back, hunched over with a grin stretching his yellow dentures and blue cheeks to breaking point.

The light dims, as if sucked into MK, and even the music begins to slow down. Right before the buildup is about to release, MK almost inhales it into himself, and the air begins to thicken. Like a mist, but invisible, thick as soup. Aofil runs the flat of their palm back and forth, and it’s almost like they’re stirring it. “Smoke machine?” they laugh over to Asriel, who…

“Asriel?”

His eyes are closed, his head tilted down with peace and content taking root on his relaxed features. MK is the same, head bowed in respect for some unseen miasma spreading itself out like fog slowly migrating over a lake on a cold morning.

Frisk meets Aofil’s confused, yet still eager, eyes with their own mirroring the exact same emotion. They tap on their chest before motioning for Aofil to do the same. 

Their soul?

Their heart…

Beating as one.

Is that what Asriel’s doing? Beating his own with MK’s? Can the monsters all do that, or is this just MK’s magic?

No wonder Mettaton hired MK if he can captivate an audience like this.

Aofil’s curious now though. The fur on their arm is standing completely upright like a brush. It pricks Aofil’s probing finger as they run it carefully over the tops. Does this mean that they can beat their own heart with MK, so to speak?

This fog, this aura, can Aofil join with it? They are already, in a way, with Asriel, so perhaps the opposite is possible too? Is it even a good idea for MK to be allowed to use the soul of a human? Isn’t that a fusion of sorts? Maybe not, if Aofil makes sure just to lend, and not give?

They did say to Asriel that they were ready to beat their heart with MK.

Aofil closes their eyes and relaxes their body. Their head tilts slightly down like Asriel’s does. Not as much though, since their nose isn’t a large majority of their head’s weight.

Wait, Aofil’s done this before…

Yes, yes they have. Sorta. Back before. With Toriel, Alphys, and Undyne. In the Town Hall, in those bean bags they dragged out of that storage they had to pick open.

There’s something similar here as well, now in the present. Something is gently bobbing inside their chest, as if floating carefully on the calm surface of a tranquil lake. Up, down, up, and down. There is a small current quietly asking for Aofil to follow along. Like a small raft, their soul is tenderly pushed with the current. Aofil can almost hear the quivering of the small waves their soul pushes aside as if politely moving through a crowded room. They can almost see the cracked reflection in the magical water their soul floats along on like a bob without a rod. A red heart with a zigzagging white tendril that’s twisted like a vine filling in what’s missing from the red.

The disfiguring reflection from the increasingly rapid water makes the scar on Aofil’s soul straight. They sigh at the sight.

“Your imagination is vivid,” comes a laughter from beside them. Not one, but two voices, laughing in unison. One is Asriel’s, letting the warm tone he’s gotten from his father dance along the calm from his mother as the current caresses him closer to Aofil. That other voice though... 

It’s almost like a whisper, easily mistaken from the wind if there was any. It’s not a voice Aofil can mistake though, not even in the most violent of storms. 

They’ve heard it too many times not to recognize it even as the quiet and subdued nature it has now.

It’s their own.

From when they were a child.

“Asriel?” Aofil asks through their soul. Again, they hear it speak in two voices. Their own as it is now, loud and clear. Their other is quieter than Asriel’s second one, more subdued, less powerful in comparison to Aofil’s own voice.

A sliver of a human child’s in comparison to a sliver of a monster child’s.

“We’ll keep this between us, right?” Asriel asks with a friendly chuckle. It reminds Aofil of when they snuck some candy to their bigger brother. They used those exact words, with the exact same childish laughter to it. “And before you ask, no, I don’t associate this with Chara.”

Aofil nods even though their mind is too busy taking in their surroundings to fully understand what Asriel meant by not associating Aofil with Chara.

“I promised Frisk,” he appends with another chuckle, albeit one out of courtesy rather than catharsis.

“Is this MK’s magic?” Aofil wonders, the small goat inside them wondering the same. It gives their curious query a hint of wonder to their wonder, and Aofil can’t help but be swept by it as well. “It’s… I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Can’t say I’ve done something like this before,” Asriel admits. “I think this is your doing, actually.”

“Mine?” the younger Asriel asks through Aofil, his awestruck wonder overpowering even an adult human.

“No, Aofil’s,” Asriel corrects.

“Oh,” Aofil says in the younger Asriel’s stead. “I see.”

“Can’t say that it’s comfortable hearing someone else imitate me for a change.”

Aofil looks around again to sate their and the smaller Asriel’s curiosity. The horizon has turned a subtle playful pink as if very early morning. It glistens as it grows, turning the cracked reflection a uniform pink, as if the two parts have melded together. Aofil looks over to Asriel.

“Different different, but same.”

“Yeah.”

They pause for a brief moment, only realizing their voices after their words escaped them.

“Is this also part of my vivid imagination?” Asriel hears his younger self ask.

“You’re asking a monster who can’t do magic on his own about this, you know?” Aofil hears their younger self answer. “I am not gonna say that it isn’t though. That much I am certain.”

“Must be a bit of yours as well,” Aofil voices with the one that isn’t their own. “If just a little bit?”

“Careful,” Aofil’s younger self warns, “if you pretend to enjoy sounding like a monster goat I might think you might want to become one. Imagine how you’ll sound then?”

A sharp silence springs up between the two bobbing souls.

“Don’t,” Asriel demands, but it’s like a child trying to beg for a cookie before having finished their vegetables. “I’ll say something embarrassing in your voice if you do what I know what you’re about to do.”

There is nothing Asriel can say that will hold the tiniest candle against what has exploded with relentless glee inside Aofil’s mind. Something they never knew they’d longed for, until know. 

“Like...like...uh...”

And they couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Don’t, Aofil,” Asriel repeats, his own voice having returned to him in this desperate time of need. It is quivering with more fear than Aofil could ever muster as a human. “Not that.”

His desperation falls on deaf ears though. Aofil won’t acknowledge the demand, they won’t negotiate on this. They never got to hear it before, and they’re never gonna hear it again in the future.

For this moment, and in this moment only.

“Just because I said that this will be kept between us doesn’t mean that you shou-”

A bleat flows from Aofil through the voice of a kid so fluffy and cute they’re afraid their soul will melt and become like a spot of oil on MK’s magic water. They’ll dissipate content having finally heard the spring morning call of a magical goat kid.

“Oh...my...god...” they say quietly in an attempt to take in the most adorable sound they’ve heard in their entire life. 

But to no avail.

“Did you have to?” Asriel asks through a defeated sigh.

“I did, yes,” Aofil explains very thoroughly and intricate to rule out any doubt.

So. Damn. Daintily.

“Heh,” Aofil chuckles as a thought strikes them. “I was kidding myself.”

Asriel’s soul does its best to try and submerge itself underneath the water, but like a nibbling fish stealing the bait, his white and red bob comes bouncing out the water again with a long and weary sigh.

“Yoooo!”

In what must be the middle of the lake, a pink heart bounces eagerly.

“You’re here!”

“MK?” Aofil asks the bright soul.

“Aofil? Wow! Your soul is as pink as mine!”

Actually, now that Aofil thinks about it. “Why is your soul pink, MK? Aren’t monster souls white?”

“My soul was white a couple of minutes or so ago, but then I was dropped into this lake and became pink. Yo, maybe it’s your red soul coloring it a bit, Aofil? Since you’re a human? I know I can’t make something this visual by myself.”

Not like Aofil would know. “Sure,” they answer. “Asriel said this was my imagination or something.”

“Not really Undyne-ish...” MK whispers a bit too loud. He immediately clears his soul throat… Or something… “Could I borrow some of your soul? The both of you?” he quickly perks uo, his soul expanding as if taking a breath. “Just for one attack? Please?”

“That’s kinda why we’re here,” Asriel chimes in. “I asked Aofil if they wanted to beat their heart with Undyne, and so here we are.”

Wherever ‘here’ is. Some aura perhaps?

“Is this your magic?” Aofil knows they shouldn’t really ask a monster that, but with the three of them being souls in this dreamlike moment, it’s as good a time as any to pop the question.

“Sorta?” MK answers as if not understanding it himself. “M has helped me develop it for his shows to cut down the special effects budget.”

Aofil was correct in that guess.

“I kinda invite monsters to join together in imagining stuff, and stuff. It only works if they want to though.”

“So like Radentim but with imagining instead of making a new image?” Aofil hazards a guess.

“...I guess.”

Good enough.

“It’s strange that you’re here though, Aofil,” MK voices with a bit of confusion to his pink aura, muting its color the slightest. “Since, you know, you’re not a monster. No offense! I only planned for Az to help me, that’s it.”

“We should hurry up with this before Frisk gets worried,” Asriel cuts in without letting the smallest thoughtful beat pass lest more questions are asked. “So how do I do this, MK?”

“Just...um...float into me?”

He doesn’t sound convinced that his idea would actually work.

“I’ve...not done this before, and with a human soul here, that might be a bit too much...” MK’s glow softens further, almost exposing the scars on Aofil’s and Asriel’s souls. “I promise I’ll be careful? Asriel’s being a Boss Monster is enough for what I had planned, but if you want to help, Aofil?”

“That’s fine,” Aofil answers after a long and metaphorical stare from Asriel. “Let’s not put Frisk in any danger.”

And just like that, Aofil finds themselves in the crevice again. They tap against their chest, but the lake is gone, and so is the misty miasma.

They’re still a bit wet from before, but not drenched like they’ve recently been bobbing in water.

Their eyes must’ve gotten used to the dark from being closed because they have to squint when they look over to Asriel. His head is still bowed down, but now his hand is raised, his cupped palm pointing towards MK.

And speaking of MK…

“HUMAN!” he roars, cyan lightning shooting out from him like crackling whips.

“Oh yes!” Frisk returns with an ecstatic cheer.

“NOW I’LL SHOW YOU THE POWER OF ANIME!”

Asriel’s soft features turns into a betrayed grimace. It summons a wide grin on Aofil’s face.

“Bleating or anime, Asriel? Pick your poison.”


	161. Battle against a true friend

“Wham!”

Aofil mouths along to the glorious battle playing out before them.

“Schwing!”

They’re a kid again. Monster goat kid or human kid, doesn’t matter in the slightest at the moment.

“Boom! Pam! Wham!”

MK’s cyan lightning brushes past Frisk’s cheek, illuminating their stretching smile. They thrust their foam spear against their opponent glowing with a pulsating aura around him. It’s being squeezed out the seams of his dark armor, sprouting like glowing volcanoes spewing magical smoke that weave into long and crackling ropes that absorb MK’s excited breathing like springs.

Pretty sure Undyne is taking notes so viciously the paper she’s scribbling on is at risk of catching fire.

“I, Undyne,” MK declares with tears in his eyes, “am the strongest and coolest monster!”

He slashes upward with his tail, letting his painted spear clash against the foam one in Frisk’s gripping hands. The clash stops just short of devolving into a monologue from MK.

But just barely.

The two combatants push away, regaining balance by hand from the human, and cyan tendril from the monster. Subtle tapping from the gravel the two friends disturb by their hard braking is like the first drizzle from an approaching hail storm, telling of the violent event about to unfold.

The impressed moment of silence is interrupted by Aofil misjudging the volume of their cheer. “AWESOOmmee...” After their upraised arms fall down as quickly as their smile does they slink back into the crevice with their tail between their legs.

If only they were a goat kid then they could explain away this embarrassing display they just made.

Aofil bleats quietly to themselves.

Nope, didn’t work.

They bleat again through their pouted lips.

“Yooo!” MK forces through his gritted, uneven, and yellowed teeth. “Human! You’re strong to be able to stand against Undyne!”

“She’s really cool!” Frisk shouts back while pointing menacingly with their spear folded under their outstretched arm. “But she’s not the coolest monster!”

A blinding light surges through the many long tendrils flowing out of MK. It forces the armor off of him in a flash of purple magic. Before anyone can realize the complementary coloring of MK’s yellow skin and his purple magic, a new set of armor is forged around him. It is as rugged and spiky as the small mountain behind him, darkening into an obsidian texture that solidifies with a crackling shine to it.

“What! Did!”

Despite it’s perceived hardness it expands and contrasts rhythmically as MK breathes in deeply.

“You!”

His eyes glaring harder than his armor.

“Say!”

A tidal wave of air slam against Frisk, but they weather it like it was nothing. They flick their head to the side to get their ruffled hair out of their eyes. “The truth!” they reply as they thrust the blunt end of their spear against the ground. “I challenge your declaration, Undyne!”

“Oh boy...”

Aofil snaps their head away from MK’s huffing to Asriel wobbling down onto his rear with one hand providing much needed support for his spinning head.

“MK took a bit too much from me there.”

Uh oh.

Around MK, an iridescent shine of purple and cyan flash, like on the surface of a soap bubble, flow in front of his lowered posture. With a more compact sound than what his conjured armor produced, a shield in the form of the delta rune is formed. Cyan wings and symbols dot the crystal-like purple magic forming the base.

Behind it, MK’s tendrils begin to hover, the same combination of purple and cyan slowly dancing up the tendrils. The magic twists together at the tip, forming identical crystals as on MK’s shield.

“She! Is!” he roars, sending his tendrils against Frisk. “The! Coolest!”

The slender attacks whiz by Frisk, throwing their hair with the draft the violent magical vines bring with them as they almost grace Frisk’s confident smile pushing their cheek outwards. With their spear tucked behind their back and held there vertically, they spring from their defensive position now that the tendrils are recopurating. 

“She is not!” they shout back, closing the distance towards a fuming MK. He swipes his tail, it’s edges having turned sharp with one side cyan and the other purple.

Frisk’s foam spear is sliced in two as it connects with MK’s tail, but it is not enough for their momentum to be halted. Frisk connects what’s left of their spear with MK’s shield, shattering it upon impact. MK staggers back as shards of purple and cyan crystals quietly float and evaporate around him. He is forced to retract his tail behind him to keep balance.

“Because I know of another monster who is much cooler,” Frisk reveals to MK after the echoing shatter calms down.

His face drains.

“The coolest monster who dresses up as his favorite heroine to celebrate a human’s birthday.”

It tries to reform, but only begins to turn and quiver.

“MK’s the coolest, isn’t he, Undyne?”

“MK is...”

The tendrils go limp, falling down around Frisk like garden hoses deprived of water. Their smile drains just as quickly, and they look worryingly against MK who’s plated shoulders sag amid heavy heaves.

“He is...”

MK coughs a sob.

Oh no…

“He’s fine.”

Aofil jolts to the side, almost hitting their head on a nearby stalagmite. Their eyes lock against Asriel, who’s hand is now firmly pressed against his chest. “MK’s fine,” he repeats with a calm that can only be from his mother. “I think I might’ve overwhelmed him a bit.”

“Shared feelings?” Aofil guesses.

Asriel nods. “Yup, but they’re mostly his.” He motions over to Frisk walking slowly up to MK with a sympathetic hand outstretched. “Look.”

The yellow hand connects gently onto MK’s shoulder through the cloud of broken crystals floating silently around MK. The tender touch from Frisk’s hand is enough to startle him, and to send the crystals falling down onto the ground where they shatter a second time before fading away. As he sees Frisk’s warm smile though, he throws himself into their embrace, wailing for the entire Underground to hear.

“He is my coolest monster,” Frisk comforts as they drag MK closer to them. “The coolest and bestest friend a human can have.”

From the waterworks Frisk throws open, the tendrils regain their strength. Their ominous glow combines into a bright cluster as they envelop Frisk and MK.

“Are the two gonna...” Aofil hints as clumsily as possible.

“No,” Asriel shuts down with a tone that indicates that Aofil should be grateful Asriel even acknowledged their inquiry.

The point hits Aofil like an arrow through their heart. “Right...” They clench their teeth in an attempt to halt their tongue.

But it fails.

“But I’ve seen the two before and-”

“You gonna take the hint or am I gonna have to shove it down your ears with a pneumatic drill?”

Aofil is forced to throw up their palms as a sign of surrender. “I get it, I get it.”

“Good.”

“Why pneumatic drill though?” Aofil’s curiosity forces them to spurt out. “Not anything magic instead?”

“...Please?” Asriel begs with a tired tilt of his head. Doesn’t get through to Aofil though.

Since it wasn’t drilled into them with a pneumatic drill.

“Asgore planning some handyman stuff around the house? He did discuss a greenhouse one night he offered me some whisky.”

Like a pneumatic drill set to ‘really annoyed’, Asriel slams down his large and fuzzy hand on Aofil’s shoulder, bending them down as if stomping down onto a balanced seesaw. “They. Are. Just. Friends.”

Guess that’ll do it.

“I must have Noelle and Kris on my mind then,” Aofil tries to deflect with a hastily dragged smile.

“Kris?” Asriel brows sinks as if tugged down like a pair of heavy curtains. “The human in a couple of classes under?” His hand comes off to point downwards along his question, making Aofil’s shoulder spring up like the seesaw was stomped down on the other side.

Same rusty squeaking to boot.

Aofil should stretch when they get the chance. 

Not that they enjoy admitting that.

Or that they’re going to get any sympathy from Undyne when they decline to sparr tomorrow.

But anyways.

“Yeah,” Aofil nods as they roll their shoulder, “the human kid with the horrible hair.”

Asriel’s eyes glance up to Aofil’s head for a second before returning back down. “Sure,” he voices unimpressed.

“I heard you were like a big brother to them?” Aofil again deflects, albeit with a bit more of a huff to their sentence. “School thing you were chosen to.”

“School thing, yeah.” Asriel shoots a look over to MK and Frisk to asses before he continues. The two are still in an embrace, MK having fallen onto his knees, still sobbing hard. 

“I love you so much, Frisk.”

Aofil and Asriel’s eyes connect.

“Friends,” Asriel repeats, forcing out each syllable with vigor. His tongue pushes against his baring teeth like water against a dam.

And cracks are beginning to show from the pressure.

“Kris was very quiet when I first met them.” Asriel takes a steadying breath. “A human pine cone in the monster fruit salad, so to speak.” His gaze wanders off like it forgot that it left the stove on.

Aofil can see where this is going from a mile away. Even with Mt. Ebott’s girth and gravel in the way it’s clearly visible on the obscured horizon. “Reminded you of a certain monster pine cone in the monster fruit salad?” 

Asriel scoffs. “At least now I don’t have to make anymore tortuous analogies.” He nods absently. “Yeah, Kris was a bit like me the years after I came back when I first met them. I still talk to them from time to time.”

“Frisk made it out that you just had them around like a bad smell until the whole thing was over.” Maybe that was some residue from Chara when Frisk said that?

“Well,” Asriel sighs as he crosses his arms. It’s very much Asgore shining through him now, effortlessly imposing, and getting his point across with just a gently movement. “Frisk has their secrets, and I have mine.”

“Like perhaps Frisk being in love with MK?”

Asriel’s head slumps down so quickly it’s like it’s detached from his neck. The thought only manages to go halfway up Aofil’s spine before it fizzles out though. They even manage to halt their tail from stretching itself in fear.

“MK’s not the best when it comes to keeping his aura in check, so to speak,” Asriel explains while rubbing his wrinkled forehead with two of his fingers. “I mean, you noticed it and dove right in a minute or so ago, didn’t you?”

“As if I understood magic enough to know that would happen,“ Aofil defends with a small bow and added gesticulation of their hand. “I only know as much magic as you do.”

Asriel tilts his empty palm up towards his furrowed face.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Aofil again defends hurriedly. Shit! They chose all the wrongs word there, didn’t they? “Sorry.”

“I’d noticed if him and Frisk were dating,” Asriel says while joining his hand back into his folded arms. “I would have noticed it from Frisk too. That level of secrecy isn’t something that would slip me by.”

“I love you too, MK,” Frisk comforts while letting MK’s tail wrap around their waist.

Two fingers find their way onto Asriel’s forehead. They are not enough to hold in his fatigued sigh, and are quickly joined with the rest of his hand.

And his other.

“For fluffbun’s sake...”

“Should you really be swearing on your dad’s name like that?” Aofil is quick to pick up.

Like smugly leaning their elbow on a house of cards.

“It’s been a swear since long before my dad,” Asriel regrets to correct while bearing his teeth to emphasize. “Could you just trust me on this, please?”

The way Asriel almost stabs Aofil in the throat with his horns as he snaps his head over has Aofil nodding along for some strange reason. “Right, I’ll drop it.” Asriel must be hiding his father’s intimidation quite well if they are able to stand up against Asriel trying to weasel more points on his homework.

Turns out asking if his sibling had feelings for a monster was the line, who’d knew?

And here Aofil was under the impression that things were becoming easier with humans being in relationships with monsters.

Maybe they’re reading a bit too much into this.

...Maybe.

“Anyways, Kris,” Asriel clears his throat, “we had lunch together one time when the school’s cafeteria burned up again.”

“That happens often?” Aofil should make a mental note to bring with them lunch as often as possible if that’s the case. They haven’t experienced one yet, but they’ve not been teaching at Toriel’s school for that long, so maybe one is bound to happen next week or something.

“We get vouchers and stamp cards.”

Well if that’s the case maybe Aofil should roll the dice on it not burning up rather than the opposite.

“Just the students,” Asriel appends like a black mark.

Guess that plan went up in smoke long before any fire got out of control. Aofil should begin planning on bringing lunch with them every day of the work week from now on then. 

Lovingly wrapped in spider silk and topped with a neat little bow.

Ahuhuhuhu~

Aofil can feel their cheeks begin to blossom.

Looks like they’re still in love.

Nice.

“Anyways again,” Asriel tries for a second time while rolling his wrist in the air. He pauses for a brief moment to again see how MK and Frisk are doing.

“Remember when we used to play ‘Human & Undyne’?”

MK again crying his soul out on Frisk’s supporting shoulder has Asriel confident that he’s fine.

“I’m not really sure what got over me, but I asked Kris if they’d like to grab a bite at Burgerpants’ diner. I got a shrug as a response which was really as much as I could’ve asked from them.” Asriel looks over to the side while he quells a giggle. “Had Kris’ ears been long and white I would’ve thought I’d be looking in a mirror.”

Aofil manages to resist their urge to bleat again.

“Then we...talked, I think. I got some things out of Kris, which was more than anyone else had. Pretty much confirmed my suspicion that they were the same pine cone as I was before.” Asriel places his left index finger on his right pinky finger, pushing it down like a piano key. “Not sure why they were here.” He moves up a note. “Doesn’t belong in this world, and they knew it.” And another. “Felt like they didn’t deserve the happiness given to them.” He finishes of his explanatory chord with a hard press, his left finger bouncing off as if jumping for joy. “And blames themselves for not handling it better.”

Asriel sighs through his lips. “It was so strange hearing it from an outside perspective. From a human too! I don’t mean it as...you know...” He tries to explain by rolling his wrist against Aofil since his words appear to fail him.

They get it, motioning calmly with their hand while nodding. “You’re both just kids. Not even I handled it in a good way. We’re all to blame.”

“I’m sorry I was so angry at you when you came back, Aofil,” Asriel solemnly admits with his head tilted down. His ears flop off his shoulders, hanging just as deep as his head. “I hadn’t gotten over Chara, no matter how much I told myself that I had. You showing up looking and feeling exactly like them just...”

“It’s fine,” Aofil states hard. They have to nip this before it starts sprouting again. They’ve already talked about Chara with Asriel before. “It’s fine,” they repeat while flexing their palm open. “Continue with your lunch with Kris,” they calmly ask after letting some silence clear the air between them and Asriel.

“We kept talking. I tried to give advice as best I could.”

“From what I’ve seen Kris seems to be with good friends now. Them and their ‘Fun Gang’. Heard of it?”

Asriel shakes his head.

“Well, that’s what that group of friends call their group. So maybe Kris just needed a big brother for just a day? For only a lunch? You did good, Asriel.”

Asriel glances up to catch Aofil’s smile, but the one he catches isn’t smug or anything like that. It’s sincere, as sincere as Aofil can do. They mean it. God knows they’d needed their own big brother for all that’s happened. Kris got a moment, if anything, and it sounds like it’s what they needed if riding wonky supermarket trolleys with a color coordinated gang of friends is what it lead to.

“Thanks.” Asriel nods. “Frisk and I are both on the same page mostly, so I don’t have any experience with being the bigger sibling. I was the smaller one when with Chara, but that was a long time ago.”

“Can’t say how that holds up to the time I spent with Chara, unfortunately,” Aofil apologizes. “I got to be both the smaller and bigger sibling afterwards though with what I remember.”

Asriel’s fingers carefully tap against each other as he sits slightly bent over nodding to muster up strength. “What did happen to your family, Aofil?” He turns his head to meet Aofil meeting his eyes with theirs. Both their neutral expressions mirrors the other’s.

“You asking for yourself to know or to help distance yourself from Chara?”

“Both, I guess,” Asriel answers while averting in shame. He doesn’t really know exactly why he asked, but he knows he wants to know. “If you don’t want to answer then I won’t ask again, but I feel that I want to know what happened to my long gone sibling’s parents though. More so now after I talked with said parents at the church.”

“Yeah,” Aofil nods. “They’ve been helpful along this, for lack of a better term, magical journey.”

“Heavy journey?”

“That too.”

Aofil sure wishes that a leaf would fall down in front of them now. Then they’d know if they really should tell Asriel. Not a lot of chance for that to happen now that they’re hidden in a crevice in the Underground.

Guess they have to ask themselves if they want to.

Do they?

Aofil takes a steadying breath.

“If you’d asked my parents they’d deny that it was my fault,” they begin while resting their gaze on MK and Frisk hugging for support. “They’re not here to deny though...”

“What happened?”

What did happen?

Car accident? Climbing accident? Robbery? Sickness?

Murder?

Aofil’s fault?

Them being the reason their family died?

Their fault that their little sister passed along shortly afterwards?

“I don’t know.”

Aofil turns their head back to Asriel to show the tears forming in their eyes. Asriel doesn’t offer to wipe the tears away. He lets them flow.

Because they need to flow.

“My little sister survived. I had to take care of her, and I couldn’t have done that if I knew what happened to our parents and our big brother. It would’ve been too heavy for me. It would’ve been too much. I’m not really the strongest when it comes to holding up the world, as you’ve seen.”

No answer, but it’s out of respect. Now is not the time for cheering up, it is time to vent.

“When she...joined them...then what was the point to know? Only I was left, and I didn’t want to know. Maybe if I-”

“Stop.”

Asriel’s hand again pushes down on Aofil’s shoulder, but this time it is warm. Soft. Secure. There to bring them back to reality.

“No ‘maybe’, Aofil. Maybes is what Chara and I decided to act upon. Maybes is what created Flowey. Maybes...”

“Maybes got you back.” 

Aofil can feel Asriel tighten his hand on their shoulder. 

“I get what you mean though. Thanks.”

Asriel returns his hand to himself. “Good.”

“So no, I don’t know how they died. Sorry.”

“You said enough by explaining,” Asriel assures with another of Asgore’s warm smiles on his lips speaking calmly like Toriel. “They were good people.”

“They were different from Chara’s parents. I’m different too from the Aofil that were their twin.”

“I’ve figured that much,” Asriel says while tapping his skull. “You’ve done good for us monsters and Frisk though, so I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Aofil agrees while drying off their tears through a forced huff to get their emotions out of them.

“You could calm it with the assigned homework though.”

Not in a million years, Asriel.

“A monster family,” Aofil whispers. “Who’d known?”

“And a monster spider partner.”

Fuhuhuhu~

And there Aofil goes blushing again.

“Oh boy,” they cough out while rubbing their face. “Weren’t we supposed to keep an eye on Frisk and MK?”

Asriel joins in Aofil’s recuperating chuckle. “Yeah, but I think they’re fine. They needed to hug it out.”

“Because they are in-”

“No.”

Aofil challenges Asriel’s hard stare with their upraised eyebrows for a couple of long seconds before the two break down into a joint laughter.

“They’d be a cute couple though,” Aofil teases.

“Yup, that we can agree on,” Asriel nullifies by admitting. “But yeah, we should check on them and see...”

Huh.

Now this is a problem.

There are no Frisk or MK to see.

Asriel’s head slumps down again.

“Mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Again.”


	162. High school politics

“Alright...”

Asriel’s cheeks are pulled down as his hands chafe down his face over a tired sigh. His lower lips curl to expose his teeth providing a very sharp bed for his tongue which blows the most ripe of exasperated raspberries.

“Pretty sure MK and Frisk headed into Hotland,” he says after his lips smack back up again. His arms swing back and forth akin to his ears, swiping against his jacket with a faint whistle coming from the friction between the fabrics. “Don’t really know why the two would head back towards Waterfall, to be honest.”

Aofil barely has time to turn their head before Asriel snaps his over. He blinks once to realign his eyelids having been flipped over from his previous sigh. His stare is hard, like MK’s conjured armor. The green in his eyes is solid like an emerald, glistening in the dim light sneaking in from outside the hidden crevice.

“Not. That,” curls from his pulled back lips.

Aofil shrugs casually. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“You’re lying.”

Correct.

“So, we wait for Sans now?” Aofil asks as they lean out of the crevice. They stretch their back out, their tail extending into a long and yellow nail as they do. “Or do we follow Frisk and Many Kisses?”

Aha! There’s that familiar neck stare Toriel has perfected over her many years. Asriel’s taking after his mother extensively. It’s like razor ice puncturing each exposed nerve on Aofil’s back and neck from him. 

“Don’t project your insecurities about being in love with a monster onto Frisk, please,” Asriel says...no...threatens...through words slicked in vile and poison. 

Hey now! Speaking of exposed nerves. 

“I’m n-” Aofil tries to force out through a sharp gasp.

“You are,” Asriel interrupts with a sly tilt to his head. He brushes past Aofil with his hand shoved hard inside his pockets. “So don’t take it out on Frisk, please. Or MK.”

“But-”

“Don’t talk with me about it. You and I just have slivers of soul in each other’s, nothing more. Talk it out with Muffet. She’s the monster you’re in love with, right?”

That’s...actually a good idea.

“And yes, now we wait for Sans,” Asriel mulls as he meanders over like said skeleton to where MK stood. There’s still a faint aura left behind in the immediate area. Not a lot of crystals though, which was the first thing Asriel looked for as to not step on any jagged ones. 

The aura is not as foreboding or uncomfortable as the wilted flower bed where Asriel and Chara almost killed Aofil, nor as imposing and uneasy as where the Barrier once was. There’s just a sense that something recently happened here. A faint smell after a large and magnificent banquet, almost. It’s not something Aofil could describe using their senses though, yet they still sense it. Just a general sense emanating from inside them. The calm you feel after some shortness of breath. Warm and relaxing now that the danger is over, radiating from what must be their soul.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

“I think so,” Aofil answers with their brow furrowed. They’re focused on the feeling, but it’s fleeting. There’s no way they can capture it or imagine it. “I can’t really grasp what it is though. It’s faint.”

“You only have a small sliver to pick it up with, so that’s probably why. I don’t even think Frisk can sense this. I wish they could though.” Asriel bites his lips as if to punish himself for the thoughts he brought back upon him. The pain pushes away the shadows trying to build under his eyes. “Don’t think Alphys would be up for soul experimenting any longer, so let’s drop it here.”

“Frisk’s the more deserving of experiencing this feeling, I agree.” Aofil reaches down for the two pieces of Frisk’s spear. “They’re the hero of this story, after all.” They wave the upper part to halt Asriel before he opens his mouth. “It’s what I want this story to be, please? I love you all as friends and family, but it is Frisk that should be the one on the pedestal, not me. Too many strings to a past that I don’t remember with Chara and all.” The lower part Aofil uses to pat on their shoulders. “Undyne’s done her everything, but not even her training can make my shoulders strong enough to hold the world.”

Asriel nods. “Good luck with keeping Muffet from lifting you up on that pedestal with her many arms,” he offers as a bit of leisure.

For that, Aofil is grateful. “She’ll wrap me up and eat me whole before I let that happen.”

A silence so heavy it smothers the faint aura falls over the human and the monster as their gears grind to deduce the exact meaning of what Aofil just said.

“That sounded better in my head,” Aofil thinks out loud while scratching their temple with the end of Frisk’s broken spear.

“You keep that between the two of you,” Asriel pushes out of him with a startled snicker and both his flats held up to protect himself from the images flashing in his head. “Got things to talk about, remember?”

As subtly as a train passing by on uneven tracks with cargo full of loose church bells, Aofil clears their throat. “How does this aura feel to you?” they while circling their hand around where think the aura is. And also to not let on that they’re enjoying the images flashing inside their head. “If I’m feeling it faintly I’m guessing it’s more thicker for you?”

Asriel lips part for a brief moment before they clamp together with an audible wet smack as he tries to make room in his mind for how to explain it to Aofil. He rolls his hand in the air, but the quiet wind he stirs up don’t seem to help either. “It’s like...” He snaps his fingers, and closes his eyes.

His willingness to risk seeing the images flashing in his mind to try and explain to Aofil is laudable.

“You know when you walk into Undyne’s kitchen and get hit in the face with the fatty steam from her cooking?”

“I’m a human so I knock and wait before entering my friends’ houses,” Aofil explains while their eyes and head roll in half a mocking circle. “So, no. I think I get what you mean though.”

“Well, it’s how it feels.” Asriel shrugs. “The closest I can explain. If you’d be able to keep up on the bench press I could’ve explained it better,” he sighs wishfully, “but alas.”

Aofil might not be able to feel the lingering aura that well, but they sure can feel the flood of sarcasm spilling out of Asriel’s mouth like the Waterfall. “Big talk from a monster standing next to a human with a spear,” they retort while spinning it clumsily between their fingers.

He’s right though, not like Aofil would acknowledge that.

“Scary,” Asriel lies after quick and unimpressed glance. His ear doesn’t even have the time to flop out of his sight before he tugs it back.

And while they’re on the subject...

“Undyne’s probably gonna try and persuade me to up my training so that I can recreate this with her,” Aofil voices almost as a lament. They tap the two broken ends together, hiding the seam inside their hand. It’s wobbly, more so now that it’s broken in the middle. With each step Aofil takes it bounces like a pen waved up and down in front of their eyes while horizontally.

That trick swept across the school faster than the cloud trick they taught many years ago. Less risk of lungs bursting, so that was probably for the better. MK’s wasn’t as enthusiastic about it though, not until Frisk showed him the trick and-

No!

No.

Stop.

Head out of the gutter. Don’t project. 

“I’m jealous of MK.”

Oh that is a bad time for you to say that, Asriel. Aofil is forced to shake the rushing thought out of their head before it begins festering like a bad wound.

MK. Friend.

Asriel. Sibling.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

“His magic?” Aofil guesses seeing Asriel gently coaxing the aura towards his hand. He rubs his fingers together while concentrating hard. His muscles tense from his chest out through his arms to his now flexed fingers. Finally he opens his palm like a blossoming flower. His fingers tenses as if shocked, and within his palm is birthed a faint flame. 

The orange light casts vibrating shadows on Asriel’s focused scowl, bathing his gritted teeth in stripes of warm orange and stripes of cold dark. He can’t hold it for long though, and his determined features drain, mirroring the petering fading of his magic. 

The dancing shadows vanishing reveals his mouth collapsing into exhaustion, and he takes a couple of rejuvenating breaths that heaves his slumped form up and down. It’s not a pretty sight seeing Asriel this defeated. It reminds Aofil of how Asgore and Toriel were when the memories still haunted the two Boss Monsters.

They shiver from their own memories of the events. The first reset especially.

No. No! NO!

In the past. 

Leave it there!

“Or maybe the driver’s license?” Aofil tries to diverge away after swallowing their shiver. They offer Asriel their hand to help him up on his feet. “I heard your test is in a few weeks though. Shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” A forced smile manages to part their lips. “Hopefully they have test cars that can accompany your Boss Monstery size.”

“Yeah...” comes a defeated answer from Asriel. “Sure.” He glances down at the broken spear in Aofil’s hand. “We all know what happened when I had powerful magic though, so this is probably for the best.”

“MK couldn’t have done what he did without your help,” Aofil offers as a reminding reply. “If there’s anything I understood from that...whatever it was...seance?” No, not good. Try again. “If there was anything I understood from that joint meditation is that MK needed your magic to put on the show he did for Frisk. He’d not ask you if he didn’t think you’d be able to help. And what help you managed to provide!”

Despite Aofil’s earnest smile Asriel still keeps his thoughtful furrow. “It felt pretty good when he did his magic with the help of mine,” he reluctantly acknowledges. “It just...I know that I’m not gonna be able to do it myself.”

“Have you tried maybe doing the same thing MK did, but into you?” Aofil offers while pointing with Frisk’s spear first to the lingering resonance from MK’s magic and then back to Asriel. “Could perhaps help you?” they finish off despite knowing that they sound as convincing as when MK excused his poorly written homework assignment on him having troubles with gripping his pen that one time.

Nevermind the fact that the note which he explained himself on was written in beautiful calligraphy and every other piece of homework being just as beautifully penned.

“Undyne’s tried,” Asriel says with a sigh. “I don’t want to knock anything on MK, but if Undyne can’t, then no one can. Even when he’s dressed up as her.”

True, but since Aofil’s trying to lift Asriel’s spirit, and soul, they’re not gonna acknowledge that. Him mentioning Undyne gives them an idea though. Aofil’s already projected onto Frisk and MK, so why not seal the deal with the third monsteteer?

For the greater good.

Doesn’t mean that Aofil won’t be having fun while doing it.

They playfully slaps against Asriel’s arm. “She succeeded with these though.” They flex their own arm, but even with Undyne having coached them to the best of her ability it’s like holding a candle against Asriel’s supernova biceps. “I’ve seen the ways Fuku’s glanced at you, prince. I know that your parents did a lot of fire motif in their youth when they fell in love, but why not take it to the next level? Set your soul on fire?”

Asriel has to close his eyes and drag his neutral smile until it risks splitting his face open to take in Aofil’s tease without immediately leaving and never looking back. “No,” he states. He might still be here, but his emotions have already packed up and bid farewell. His arm and open palm are angled upwards, creating a sizable mound visible even through his puffy jacket. “Her best friend sits next to me, that’s whom she’s looking at when she glances over during your classes.”

Like a pair of tennis balls inside an unstable tumble dryer, Aofil’s eyes roll around violently as they emit a sharp scoff. “And the way her flames turn red with embarrassment when you cross by her desk on your way out?” Their confident lean in against Asriel has him leaning away and equal distance. “Not even the fires that torch the school cafeteria burn as violent as Fuku does when you slip your royal fur by.” Aofil’s beaming smile is inversely mirrored by Asriel’s annoyed frown. “You gotta admit though, she’s pretty hot.”

Asriel begins leaving and never looking back.

“Come on,” Aofil throws like a lasso against the white and furry wall facing them inside the puffy blue jacket. The lasso only catches the turbulence from Asriel ears flopping around as he spins around on the heels of his pink slippers. “It’s more obvious than that ladybug monster knocking over everyone around her with her buzzing wings when she catches a glimpse of that cat monster in the reflection of her locker. She’s spilled my tea like three times now.”

“That black cat monster?” Asriel asks over his shoulder just before he rounds the corner.

“No, that’s just her friend she stars along with in the theater group,” Aofil explains like it’s obvious after having caught up with Asriel with some hurrying steps. “Superheroes, I think. Something about eating dust too. She’s in love with the cat monster with a bit lighter fur that’s in her class. He’s a model...maybe?”

The frankly ridiculously long sign mounted on the left facing wall of the last hallway of Waterfall leading into Hotland welcomes Asriel and Aofil. Although by the name of the characters the script assigned them to be rather than their own ones. The large red letters streak past silently, casting a deep red hue across the blue hallway, blending it into a close approximation of the Ruins.

The red neon words pass by like an indirect acquaintance, barely acknowledging Asriel or Aofil by name, and the wrong one to boot. A purple color is left behind in Aofil’s eye facing the sign, but a different one than the purple hue given by the sign. Even as they squint it’s still bright enough that Aofil can feel the heat from the old neon bulbs giving it their all through their eyelid.

Come to think of it, maybe it’s not just the warm wind from Hotland warming them up. Whatever the physical reasons, they’re welcoming it with open arms. Even with their new set of dry clothes the cold from the wet of the Waterfall still lingers in their bone like a faint echo.

It’s either that or the talk with Chara beginning to settle, but Aofil would rather believe it isn’t the latter. Just how they’re putting this streak of neon letters past them, so are they doing Chara. It’s what they wished, after all.

And just like that, another train of words speeds towards Aofil with similar welcoming intent.

There’s a light at the end of this tunnel though, albeit a bit smaller, and it bids Aofil welcome again. Welcome, welcome, welcome. Never have they been so welcomed in their entire life. Technically it welcomes MK, but it is meant for Aofil.

Just how what Frisk did was meant for Chara…

Aofil sighs.

Gosh dangit all.

The sound of rows of teeth unhooking from each other emerges in a high pitch from the zipper of Asriel’s jacket. He fans the two halves of his jacket, sending a strong whiff of a hot mix of condiments Aofil’s way.

Purely on accident, of course. Asriel’s dedication to his costume might’ve pissed of Aofil in any other context, but providing a distraction from Chara is always welcome in their arms.

There’s that word again…

Any more mentions of it and Aofil will begin noticing that the word should really have to ‘l’s in it.

Wait…

Dammit. 

“Just friends?” Asriel challenges with an eyebrow raised through the top of Mt. Ebott. “Why should I believe that two monsters are just friends when you refuse to believe that Frisk and MK are just friends?”

Despite having their ammunition turned against them, loaded, and then fired with a proud and smug grin, Aofil is happy that they managed to get Asriel on other thoughts. It’ll get them on others as well. A small price to pay considering the hefty bill that usually follows thinking about Chara and Asriel’s magic.

Besides, Aofil knows full well that Fuku isn’t gazing at Asriel. She has eyes for someone else, Aofil just hasn’t figured out who yet.

Because why else would they be in high school except to form structurally unsound love triangles at the very best?

To study?

Sure... 

Not according to the homework Aofil spends time correcting at their desk. Well, their cutlery does, but if the kids can’t bare putting in the slightest effort, then why should Aofil? They gotta survey from their vantage point behind their teacher’s desk. Keep a lookout for the hesitant turning of anxious heads shifting, what they think is, subtly. Aofil knows that Asriel’s eyes are prone to wandering too because of that. 

The Boss Monsters prince does subtle just as well as Mettaton does humble. 

Only on a few occasion though does Asriel’s eyes force the rest of his head to come along on their curious ride.

Funny that those occasions seem to coincide with when Skateboard Girl decides to show up for class once each even week or so.

Correlation?

Maybe.

Causation?

Absolutely!

And Asriel can mouth off how much he wants about Aofil bringing the topic up, but the fact still stands that he turned around at the faintest whiff of high school drama.

Oh yes, if there is anything that can bring the mind out of the thoughtful and profound gutter it is the high school love drama gutter on the other side of the road. Instead of leafs floating down from trees representing deceased family members and clogging up the grate so that the gutter overflows with emotion and tears, the high school love drama gutter is instead clogged with secret love letters and silent eyes moving rapidly to catch a glance before being spotted.

Aofil can’t help but chuckle. It’s borderline sinister.

“Is that all you talk about in the teacher’s lounge, Aofil? Which student is in love with who?” 

“More or less.” 

"And does my mom know about it?" Asriel decides to pry with a smug grin.

"No, but correct me if I'm wrong, but I wouldn't guess that you'd want Toriel to participate in gossip surrounding you and your classmates." 

"...You're correct." 

Sweat is tossed off from sweaty fingers, but not fingers covered in fur. Aofil is really starting to feel the heat from Hotland now. It’s blazing orange and red has now completely taken over the calm blue of the Waterfall. Had Snowdin not existed then Hotland and Waterfall would’ve been complete compliments to each others both in terms of temperature and in color.

But no, Hotland is just overwhelmingly warm instead of just whelmingly warm like Waterfall. An extreme to a moderate.

So much so that Aofil’s beginning to wish they’d kept their wet clothes.

“Still can’t see them,” Asriel mumbles with a bit of a worried wobble to his voice. “Guess Frisk has reached the Lab already. Otherwise MK would’ve still been at the water cooler.”

Aofil takes a short peek at the bridge in front of them. After some careful consideration…

No.

“After you,” they motion friendly to Asriel.

“Magic glass underneath,” he answers while motioning even friendlier to Aofil. “I’m sure it can hold your weight.”

And what does he mean by that?

“Why don’t you show me then?” Aofil asks the most friendliest while motioning just as apex friendliest.

Asriel’s heel is raised in salute, but it’s raised for just a moment before coming crashing down at the first loosely looking board of the rope bridge hanging a bit too closely to the flowing lava underneath.

The impact from his free falling heel reveals the brief shimmer of a thick sheet of glass stretching the length and width of the bridge.

The rest of his steps as he crosses it while whistling a jaunty tune are less overbearingly convincing than his first one, and he leaves a pouting Aofil fuming.

Although that could just be the heat from the lava below.

“Some water for the travel?” Asriel shouts over his shoulder. He reaches for the water cooler. “One or two cu- AARGHH!”

Aofil’s not sure whether to laugh at the startled pirouette Asriel just exploded into, or sigh in relief that the magic glass extends to where he almost fell off the plateau.

“from the company that brought you a conveniently shaped lamp comes their new model,” Sans proclaims as he emerges from behind the conveniently shaped water cooler. “comes the newest in hiding furniture. this one purpose built for the office.”

“Or at the end of rope bridges dangling over deadly lava?” Aofil adds as they cross said dangling bridge. They breathe out as they finally set foot back on solid ground. “Yes, please,” they quickly thank to Sans handing over a cup of water.

“and some for me too,” Sans also offers to Asriel dusting his jacket off. “i’d say you almost jumped out of your skin, but since you’re a skeleton you don’t have any.”

Asriel has trouble drinking through his huffed pout.

“oh yeah, i just remembered.” Sans grabs the busy wrists of Aofil and Asriel, spilling the water for no good reason. “we don’t have time for this.”

“Wha-”


	163. Between armor and a tiled wall

Silence.

A calm before the storm.

Darkness unfolding itself towards a horizon even less visible.

A spreading still meant for eternity.

“I think my foot’s asleep.”

A flicker!

The slightest sigh to banish the darkness.

No longer silence.

No longer an eternity resting quiet before the storm.

Because the storm has arrived.

The loud scoff of the Lab doors opening themselves for Frisk is like thunder from a clear sky. It brings with it a flash of burning orange lightning which dissipates inside the depressingly gray walls of the Lab.

“Now it’s my entire leg.”

Frisk stands for a few seconds with the door just out of sensory reach behind them. They look around, but whether they see anything or not is up for debate. With hands deep inside their pockets they confidently take a step in towards the looming darkness.

They almost hover across the floor, their shoes melding together with the dark floor as they silently float towards the large screen. Its quiet hum being the only indication of its presence, just enough for a human to take notice of.

Frisk, however, would find it with even less a notice. Like the cozy hammock their hands occupy, they know this place like the inside of their pockets, and they easily avoid even the clumsily knocked over trash can that fell during the hurried scramble to evacuate the performers tasked to celebrate their birthday while costumed.

You’d be surprised how many monsters and humans a single bathroom can hold.

Well, to be truthful, how many many monsters plus a single human.

“And there goes the other leg.”

“Are you just gonna complain?” Asriel snaps through a whisper behind him as much as he can tilt his head. With his horn locking into his father’s after just the slightest movement the turn wouldn’t even register on a protractor.

“I have blood that needs circulating,” Aofil whispers back while they try to wiggle some room for their legs to let some of it actually circulate. MK does his best to push himself to the side, but his magical armor proves that difficult. Like fitting a sleeping bag back into its casing.

“Can’t you turn it off?” Aofil asks MK like they would a TV with its remote missing and a rerun of MTT’s show playing on full blast while they’re in another other room.

“I don’t know how...” he answers after a silent beat. “It’s kinda...stuck.”

The small bathroom is drowning in a luminescent purple radiating strongly from MK’s magic. The crystalline structure is smoother than what it was during his battle with Frisk which his very intimate neighbors are thankful for. Its size however would be appreciated if it could be toned down a bit.

“I don’t know how to do that either...”

“Didn’t it break during your fight with Frisk?” Asgore asks without looking.

Since he’s physically unable to.

“Yeah, but they asked me if I could try and conjure it again after we stopped to drink at the water cooler,” MK explains with a slight hint of pride in his voice. His smile turns into an embarrassed frown as he’s forced to squint against the increased light surging into his armor and aura. “Sorry that I’m making it all inconvenient for you guys though. I’m trying to remove it, I promise.”

A heavy hand emerges from behind MK’s shoulder, grasping it tightly. The sizzling from the startled contact does nothing to dissuade the hand, and it grips tighter instead. “Well I think it looks absolutely gorgeous on you, MK!” Mettaton beams louder than what MK’s armor does. “How about we-”

“Shhh!” Toriel hushes angrily. Her sharp exhale is akin the raging foam at the bottom of the largest waterfall in Waterfall.

And just as violent in its promise.

Mettaton rolls his eyes and gently angles his prosthetic Boss Monster muzzle away from MK. “I think it looks absolutely gorgeous on you, MK,” he whispers quietly. The loud smack from him releasing the muzzle back onto his mouth has Toriel turning around for a second time.

Not much she can do about it besides glaring with murderous intent though.

And Mettaton knows it.

“You think you can perhaps take a few days to learn how to mold it?” he continues to MK, hopes and dreams brimming inside his lucrative suggestion. “It would do great for my next collection.”

That however earns him a swift bonk on top his head, sending his piston-suspended neck down and up, causing his stapled-on ears to wave in a similar pattern.

How Muffet found enough clearance to build up such force behind her downwards swing is something Aofil will be thinking about for quite a while, but for now it seems to have done the trick. “We’ll talk later, darling,” Mettaton smiles to MK before clearing his throat of a loose bolt.

“YOU WOULDN’T HAVE SUCH TROUBLES WITH YOUR HUMAN LEGS IF YOU’D LEFT YOUR TAIL BEHIND!” Papyrus whispers way too close to Aofil’s ear. He’s managed to somehow shuffle himself from one corner of the bathroom to the other past all of the monsters undetected. He can suck in his stomach a bit more than anyone else can though, so that’s perhaps checks out?

Something to ponder later as Aofil has something else on their mind at the moment. The audacity of Papyrus’ disgusting statement rings louder in their ear than what his voice does. Due to their current inability to do anything of their ability, Aofil’s willing to let that slide just like their shattered eardrum is about to do out of their ear with a viscous plop.

“if you need to amputate one leg you have one in reserve,” Sans adds for reasons unknown. “albeit a bit more scaly, but you humans are good at adapting, no?”

“I’m good now,” Aofil says with a smile dragged without emotion. The shock from Papyrus’ ‘whisper’ has their heart pumping a bit faster, forcing some fresh blood through the blockade created by their very close friends.

Could’ve done with only having distant acquaintances at the moment, to be honest.

The bright purple of the Lab bathroom turns a strange, almost sickly, brown as Frisk’s fish-eyed distorted face pops into view on the screen brought into the bathroom for observation.

“I’m a bit curious to how Undyne and Alphys are going to do,” Asgore wonders through a kingly hum. A bit out of character, but since the bathroom still is in the Lab it should be fine. “Since the rule was that we don’t have to be in character inside the Lab.”

Oh yeah…

“Well,” Toriel makes herself heard after a very steadfast hawk, “I did have a slight talk with them about that rule.”

“An exception added?” Aofil pries while prying their left leg away from the edge of the sink pushing into their flesh with all its porcelain pressure.

“Two,” Toriel corrects carefully, “since they are two.”

“Wouldn’t one exception be enough for the two?” MK pries too while Mettaton none too subtly pries at a part of his armor from behind.

“One is for sticking to the script, and the other is for sticking to their character.”

Frisk’s face seems as confused to the explanation as the rest of the inhabitants of the bathroom. If they didn’t react to either Mettaton or Papyrus they surely didn’t hear Toriel though. 

Or did they?

“...Zit,” Frisk exhales in defeat while brushing a finger against their cheek. “Dammit.”

Aofil offers their sympathies. Looking around, they offer sympathy from the monsters too. Zits is a curse befallen only humans, it seems. Aofil’s known that blight in their younger days.

...Younger days…

Ouch.

Damn you, reality.

Inevitability best kept blissfully unaware of aside, Frisk should stop touching their zit lest it becomes infected. Hopefully they’re smart enough to not try and pop it on a live feed while as close a humanly possible to the screen.

Frisk retreats from the screen while a weary sigh escapes their rumbling lips, and Aofil breathes out in relief.

The sudden tingling inside their stuck leg from the lack of oxygen has them retreating that relief through their widened nostrils. Asriel again attempts at angling his head in reflex as Aofil almost inhales his tuft like the first blooming spring rose. His skeleton-painted horns again hook into his father’s also skeleton-painted calcium tendrils.

Or keratin tendrils.

Or magic similar to keratin tendrils.

Whatever that doesn’t make Aofil come off as racist again.

Or speciest…

Soulist?

The dark light from MK’s armor sure is playing tricks on Aofil’s vision, but with the clumsy dance the quite literal father and son bonding produces on the bathroom wall it’s not an entirely wrong description.

Aofil just gotta make sure their jugular is tucked back enough as to not get sliced opened from the sharp tips flailing around in an attempt to get untangled.

It takes a sturdy and motherly hand to unhook the king from the prince, and Toriel’s expertise even in such dim light tells of her many dealings of this exact situation. The embarrassed cheeks from Asgore and Asriel shining brighter than Aofil’s does little to protect from Toriel’s weary sigh descending upon the two male Boss Monsters like a thick old rug for the two to hide underneath.

The two large, hunched over, black and white backs gives Aofil enough room to sit themselves onto the basin with their legs free to circulate as much blood as they want. Their tail takes over the job of keeping balance, and MK gives an approving nod seeing the act which Aofil sends back with a pair of playful eyebrows.

“Do you have the remote ready for the wall, Asriel?” Toriel asks while simultaneously hushing the room. She points towards the screen showing Frisk closing in on the elevator down to the defunct True Lab.

Aofil’s just gonna assume that it is defunct and not convert precious space in their mind that could be occupied with something happier.

Like how Undyne won’t stick at all to the script, for instance.

Because, please…

It’s Undyne.

Not the knight in purple shining armor next to Aofil, but the other Undyne.

The one coming up the elevator just about…

“Ding.”

Yes, must be very defunct if Undyne has to say ‘ding’ out loud.

Frisk’ chortle is replied with the light flicking on inside the Lab. The depressing gray is replaced with the horrid clash of lime-green walls and cyan tiles. 

No visible Undyne though.

Audible she is. Very much so. She’s swearing her lungs out from behind the elevator door. It’s putting up quite the resistance despite shaking like Aofil’s door when she actually knocks on it instead of inviting herself inside with a kick and a gleeful ‘Ngaaah!’ once every hundredth blue moon or so.

However, Frisk’ attention is diverted elsewhere despite the creative bends of swears to form new one never before heard by man nor monster.

“What?” Radentim asks while disinterestedly closing the page on his and or hers MTT sponsored magazine while casting a halfhearted look at Frisk from the weathered barber’s chair standing above a sea of multicolored hairs and furs.

“Didn’t expect you here,” Frisk answers while scratching their lobe, poking at another exposed zit as they do. “Ouch,” they groan as their nail runs over their pimply perturbation. “More of them?”

“I’m not paid to act,” Radentim explains after throwing the magazine on a nearby pile with similar glaringly pink covers of Mettaton in various poses. The camera filming the Lab sure has some good resolution to it. “Just for make-up and costuming.”

“Oh,” Frisk voices like they’ve just stumbled upon the reason why Ice Wolf didn’t just request for the conveyor belt to be extended all the way to the water. “Could you help me with this then?” they ask while timidly indicating towards the now readily and redily pulsating zit on their forehead.

With a quick nod towards the now vacant barber’s chair, Radentim clears the latest issue of ‘Becoming Meta Tuned with Mettaton’ from his and or hers working bench and begins shuffling with the bottles in her and or his belt.

Creative swearing continues to force its way through the frame of the stuck elevator door, but there’s been yet a finger to have poked through. Frisk swivels the barber chair around to check if Undyne’s gotten through, and are swiveled right back by Radentim. “Any allergies?” the tentacled monster asks while gently angling Frisk’s head around to determine the best point of creamage.

“Yes,” Toriel answers without thinking, blurting out in half a growl because of Radentim. Not yet an uncontrolled bleat, but it’s getting close.

“Really?” Aofil’s curiosity forces them to ask as Frisk shakes their head on the screen. “I haven’t seen any signs of any allergies from them.”

“Frisk gets a bit bloated after consuming dairy,” Toriel explains reluctantly while carefully patting her own stomach in a way that doesn’t indicate any bloating on her behalf.

“Lactose intolerant?” Aofil hazards a guess. They’re not really trusting of it though since Frisk happily scarfed down that Nice Cream earlier. Not even with the Temmies since Frisk is too polite not to show any symptoms any longer.

“No?” falls out of Asriel’s perplexed mouth. “They’re good friends.”

Like a twisted skateboard ramp irresponsibly left on a track, Aofil’s train of thought is violently derailed. “Sorry?” they beg to clarify while leaning a bit too enthusiastically away from the sink they’re sitting on. Luckily their tail is there to catch their balance before they tumble into the mess of monsters.

“Lacktus?” Asriel tries again to no avail. He rolls his eyes with a sigh that’s more like a groaning scoff. “Green monster in our class? Has scales? Loves to draw?”

Oh for crying...

Now Toriel has to turn her head around. A teacher not knowing the students in their class? As a headmaster she can’t let that slide on her watch.

The weight of her intensive stare forces Aofil to flinch. They have to be careful not to get blown through Mt. Ebott with what they say next. “Oh yeah...” they lie through a forced laughter. “Him.”

Toriel turns her head back towards the screen.

And Aofil breathes out in relie-

“Her.”

Shit.

“You’re finished.”

Radentim allows Frisk a moment to inspect themselves.

“Although I barely started with you, to be honest,” Radentim continues while scratching his and or hers beard. It sinks back into the yellow skin very disturbingly as Radentim removes her and or his hand away from his and or her chin. “I think if I take off a bit at the back of your head you would look more a Royal Heir than a crying willow, if you pardon the profuse analogy. Will you allow me to?”

Before Frisk can answer their ears are cut by the sound of metal being viciously bent. Their body is frozen in a half-startled pose with their face warped into a pained expression as the loud and maniacal crashing continues. 

Asgore reaches over to turn down the volume from the screeching speakers to everyone’s relief.

“So how did Undyne even get inside if the elevator door wasn’t even meant to be opened?”

Aofil’s inquiry is carried on wayward by the dismissing faning and hushing from Toriel. With a practiced flick, she knocks away Asgore’s hand to turn the volume back up again. Undyne’s panting becomes audible, and she casts one final deadly glare at the twisted metal wreckage behind her before stretching her back upright.

To immediately hunch over again as she remembers who she’s supposed to be.

“Oh. My god.”

It is quite strange seeing Undyne this distraught, even if it’s only for show. A bit more strangely considering her nasally voice and large glasses resting on top of an even larger prosthetic nose painted yellower than Frisk. While Undyne is no real stranger to uneven teeth, her shoved-in buckteeth forces her to inhale the saliva forming around them.

Very clumsily.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so soon!”

Undyne turns around as she pretends to blush inside her thick palms. She gasps another slobbery breath, and peeks sheepishly at Frisk for but a moment before hiding her face again.

Frisk can only shake their extremely amused head as they make their way out of the barber’s chair. Radentim takes the opportunity to return to the, apparently, very interesting magazine featuring Mettaton on its cover.

There’s seldom a time nowadays that Aofil’s not willing to believe what they see, but seeing someone invested this wholeheartedly in anything starring Mettaton is one of those rare occasions. Must be some sort of punishment.

Frisk heads towards the hunched over scientist emitting various non-confident sounds with a pleased grin stretching their cheeks. Again, very strange hearing Undyne’s voice this waning. The closest Aofil’s heard her do something similar is when she’s imitating them saying that they can’t do another set in a mocking voice while pretending to cry.

Aofil’s not sure why that keeps working on them.

“I haven’t showered, I’m barely dressed, it’s all messy, and...”

Undyne sighs, whistling a sharp B between her buckteeth, and wrings her prosthetic tail while looking away.

Frisk hurriedly motions for Undyne to relax her grip before she destroys the tail.

“Umm…,” Undyne produces like an idle engine. Her tail is now as dented, twisted, and bent as the elevator door. With a faked laughter she throws it behind her. A shameful blush begins radiating, turning the yellow layers of make-up bright orange. The sweat beginning to bead down her nose does little to help her bashful forwards tilt of her head to see over her nose and meet Frisk in the eyes.

Just as the large-framed glasses begin to slip off the edge of her nose though, she catches them with surprising vigor. Two sharp claws, one on each side of the wide nose bridge, hold the forlorn glasses in place as they teeter on the yellow mound. Undyne’s tilted down head and sunken eyes due to the make-up summons dark circles where her eyes gleamed in embarrassment barely a moment ago.

The intensity has Radentim looking up from the pink and glamorous with a perplexed eyebrow raised. After a quick roll of her eyes she lifts up the chair and carries it around the corner.

Her? Just her?

Yes…actually. Radentim does seem like just a her when reading that magazine. Maybe she’s indulging herself? Regardless of reasons, it’s much better when Radentim has a discernible gender. Much easier to get a read on. Always gotta walk on eggshells lest the coin flip lands on the wrong side when speaking to Radentim, so to speak.

A torrent of hypocrisy is suddenly dumped on Aofil, but they’re not sure exactly why it’s come over them. Eh, whatever. They shake it off.

“50 G that Undyne is gonna push her glasses up all anime like,” Aofil makes it known to the cramped bathroom with pride that shouldn’t really be pride. “Taking all bets.”

“Of course she’s gonna do it,” Asriel retorts with a snappy throw of his hand against the screen. “So unless you’re betting against it then I’m not taking the bait.”

Oh, but you have, dear prince!

For now Aofil knows that you watch anime.

Good luck trying to dig your way out of this shame.

Asriel’s hand clenches slowly, the realization having dawned on him like a sneaky flu. His arm falls down hard on his leg, bouncing hard before resting itself limp limb on limp limb. “Dammit,” he whispers.

A flash of lightning that horizontally overexposes the Lab camera is thrown from Undyne’s face, and she tilts her head back up again with her glasses firmly pressed against her eyes with her firm claws. A cocky smile splits her lips, and she meets Frisk’s eyes through her eyelashes straightened forward in stark defiance.

“I am. Dr. Alphys!” Undyne declares with a shout that rocks Hotland to its very core!

Oh god no!

“The cake!”

“My spiders are taking care of it,” Muffet assures with a warm hand on Aofil’s shoulder.

“Oh, right,” they nod back at her.

She lets the hand rest.

And Aofil lets it rest too.

“I’m Asgore’s royal scientist!” Undyne again assert viciously, throwing her bulky hand out as if to slice the air around her in half with a precision far exceeding what the eye could interpret from her current costumed form. The back of her lab coat is dragged upwards by the turbulence created, and it hangs in the air for a couple of dramatic seconds before slowly falling down.

“I NEVER KNEW ALPHYS HAD SUCH A COMPETITIVE SPIRIT!” Papyrus cheers with a raised fist clenched in celebration. “WHAT A FANTASTIC TWIST!”

“Yooo...” The purple light inside the bathroom brightens to eye-melting levels. “Undyne is so cool!” MK also cheers.

Cyan numbers and mathematical symbols begin forming around Undyne’s now combat ready huddle. They bend and meld into a myriad of formulas and scientific expressions.

None of them close to any form of truth or balance. Baseless axioms, if Aofil was feeling plenty generous.

Would still earn Undyne a big fat ‘F’ if she were to turn those in as homework or answers to a test.

Undyne throws Frisk a notebook, “Here,” which they wield like a shield. “Now prepare to be schooled, human!”

The two pause briefly as an angry bleat makes its way from upstairs.


	164. Breaking the tiled wall

“The world of science is my oyster, and I am going to do every test I can on it!”

That’s not something Alphys would say.

“My intellect will allow me to finally make anime more real that reality!”

Getting closer.

“You, human, will be my first test subject!”

Uuuuhhhh…

“Once you’ve succeeded with this test I’ve prepared for this particular subject you’ll be allowed to proceed on your journey.”

Phew!

The notebook given to Frisk is put under scrutiny immediately along with its wielder. With each rapid whack on the doodled blackboard Undyne somehow managed to unfold out of the elevator, Frisk adds another line in their notebook with the Mew Mew branded pen taken from the colorful row of pens the pocket protector proudly displays on Undyne’s white robe as if the first few flowers sprouting through the white snow on an early spring.

The words ‘Not to be worn as an indication of intelligence’ boldly written on the bank of snow that harbors the…

Wait, what?

“I know for a fact. Monster fact. Monster science fact!” Undyne repeats while underlying the words with a thick line of chalk. “Due to humans having more powerful souls they also have thicker skulls. They may think they’re smarter than us monsters, but that’s only because of their soul constantly validating that opinion. If they’re so smart, then how come they can’t walk around a giant hole without falling into it?”

Aofil shuts down each and every of their, supposed, friends sneering and giggling with a hard stare for each one. Fruitlessly, of course. The snickering continues well after Frisk’s eyebrow’s come down after Undyne’s teasing lean and nudging elbow in their side.

Aofil do get another of Muffet’s hand placed on their head though.

So all in all a net positive.

They shut down the recurring look from Mettaton with an even harder stare and frown. He shoots a knowing glance over to Muffet before twirling his wrist to punctuate that he indeed told Aofil so.

Frisk leans back in their chair with the Mew Mew pen gently spinning between their fingers. They’re just about to retort this antagonizing axiom towards the very confident scientist, but she just readjusts her glasses with an interrupting cough before continuing her lesson.

“But since I am so overwhelmingly smart and cute and best and funny and smart and the best Alphee in both the Surface and Underground,” Undyne’s buckteeth whistle joyfully as she inhales some well needed air that almost rips the buttons on her robe apart, “I will do my absolute best to teach you how to solve the puzzles leading up to Asgore.” She points her pointer at the top left corner of the maniacally scribbled graphs and equations. “Observe, human.”

How crude drawings of various characters from Mew Mew is gonna help Frisk solve whatever types of puzzles prepared for them is beyond Aofil, but perhaps Undyne is getting to it soon.

“Here’s how my scientifically accurate renditions of the very scientifically important characters from Mew Mew is gonna help you solve the super smart and super dangerous puzzles.”

Aofil just…

Does nothing.

Not really anything they can do against that.

“First oh no.”

Undyne turns her head towards the wall in horrified terror.

But nobody came.

There’s no crash. No large and uneven hole with a struggling Alphys balancing on a unicycle while in an oddly weighted gray box with rows of lights on the front. 

Undyne’s reaction could have done with some work too, to be honest. A pause before saying ‘oh no’ or something. Aofil’s muttered ‘oh no’ with more emotion when they learned that Mettaton had to cancel the interview he’d planned with the first human teacher of the monster school, so Undyne could at least have pretended that it was Papryus’ rearranging her anime shelf into some sense of order instead of ranging the shows from ‘colorful’ to ‘colorful, but with gore that’s colorful’.

Although that would probably lead to Undyne making the hole in wall from the wrong way.

“You stuck in there?” Frisk shouts at the wall after taking the pen out from between their teeth. “Need help? Knock twice if you need help.”

“I told Undyne that we needed to weaken the wall for Alphys,” Toriel mutters with lips coiled back and brow lowered. “How in the world would Alphys be able to muster up enough momentum on her unicycle to go through solid concrete from a standstill and two arms’ length on each side?”

Toriel holds her tongue as if waiting for an answer. All she gets is a myriad of furrowed looks at her from all around the cramped bathroom. Getting an answer doesn’t seem to have been her plan though. 

“Exactly, Undyne,” she piques while dangling her head from side to side. “It’s not possible,” she then mutters in a low growl. “Now. Is. It?”

Aofil looks to Asgore for some form of clarification, but all they get is a large and confused shrug from him. Asriel sends one as well since he knows he’s also to be asked about Toriel’s muttering.

“I know Alphys is very smart, Undyne,” Toriel continues towards the image of a turned Undyne on the screen. “Yes, even very very smart,” she nods with annoyance while crossing her arms, squeaking the rubber skin gloves stretched over her hands. The distinct sound of her clenching her hands together is unmistakable, and has Asgore and Asriel backing away as much as they can.

“My leg,” Aofil whispers harshly to Asriel pushing it into the porcelain edge of the sink Aofil’s sitting on. He doesn’t hear it though. It’s all a reaction out of fear.

“And now we’re here,” Toriel whispers with tongue slicked in poison, “with the exact same scenario I said would happen if the two of you didn’t. Follow. The. Script!”

The sink shatters as both Asgore and Asriel jump back in unison. Aofil’s allowed a split second to realize what just happened before their limbs tumble into the awaiting horns. Whether by luck or clumsy luck, the horns only scrape at Aofil’s skin as they fall down, but that doesn’t stop the two Boss Monsters’ heads from being levered up and back. A duet of bleats ring out from their wide opened mouths.

Frisk looks up the stairs with a sunken brow.

Knock. Knock.

The brow resurfaces with a surprised hop hearing the wall knock at them. Frisk nods at Undyne while they put down the notebook and pen on their chair. 

“sink sunk?” Sans quips over at the bundled mess of paint and limbs in the corner trying to distinguish which part of which costumes belongs to which monster or human dressed as another monster while not necessarily having the same amount of limbs to utilize. “or sink cost fallacy?”

Just quip away, Sans. Don’t help or anything. Wouldn’t want to do any actual effort at risk of your glued on beard dislodging from sheer bewilderment over your choice to do so.

“You need some light?” MK offers as he leans a bit closer, but not too close. He doesn’t want to be kicked in the face be it by paw or shoe imitating a paw. Fair enough a worry considering the sporadic movements Aofil, Asriel, and Asgore try to coordinate to untangle themselves.

“not really helping us distinguish between the three of you when you’re all bundled up like that. it’s already easy enough to accidentally slip up and say another of your names considering they all begin with ‘a’.”

“ALTHOUGH NOW WE CAN JUST SAY ONE OF THE NAMES AND IT’LL BE APPLICABLE SINCE THEY’RE ALL TIED UP WITH EACH OTHER!”

Had Aofil not been in said tying up they’d maybe agreed with that sentiment.

With MK leaning in closer to cast some light on the situation, Aofil can now see that three out of the four total horns are close enough to their eyes that they should worry. With the hectic recoiling occurring to boot, they are now a step beyond worrying.

So maybe MK could lean in a bit less?

“I got it,” Asriel says as he pulls out his arm from between his father’s horns, slamming the back of his hand onto Papyrus’ back.

“backhanded compliment,” Sans states.

Just for the record.

Frisk and Undyne, after a minute or so of running their hands to find a crack of sorts, something they can widen to make the initial weakness for ‘Mettaton’ to crash through dramatically like planned, finally spot a small chip in one of the wall tiles they can exploit.

Undyne motions for Frisk to step back a bit while she summons a spear in one hand. From between the dueling horns, Aofil can deduce that it indeed looks very unfamiliar seeing the form of Alphys clutching a magical spear with such determination. Even more so with the vicious stab of said spear into the tiled wall.

The clatter from Asriel and Asgore’s horns make for good folly though for the scene unfolding on the screen in the bathroom. 

Frisk’s head is tugged to the side by their curiosity. They anxiously drum their fingers on their folded arms, but before they can take a step towards the escalator leading upstairs, Undyne drags her spear on the blackboard to regain their attention.

The resulting flinch from the furred foolery trying to unfurl in the bathroom means that Muffet can, with grace and precision, unmake the goatian knot of arms and legs of various shades of white. Her six arms are just enough to help up the three participants up on their feet again, and they all cough awkwardly before sitting down again.

Muffet holds Aofil’s hands in hers though, and gently sits them down next to her. She lays her head on their shoulder, and they do theirs on her head.

“I’ve done my fair share of untangling,” Muffet informs through a giggling whisper.

“You used to these big and clumsy flies stuck in your webs?” Aofil whispers back while they envelop their spider monster with their tail.

“Fuhuhuhu~”

“You’ll have to save the eating for later though,” Aofil answers while not really sure how far they mean by that. Far enough is their guess as Muffet sighs deeply and wondrously. 

“I’m looking forward to our date.”

With Frisk back on their chair, and with Undyne back at the blackboard with the pointer ready to point, the show begins anew.

“First...”

The wall next to Frisk and Undyne breaks open, sending pieces of broken tiles through an emerging cloud of both plaster and smoke out into the Lab. Frisk lifts up their collar over their mouth to weather it.

“Oh no!”

A better reaction this time from Undyne.

The single bicycle wheel underneath the emanating box-shaped shadow fading into detail squeaks as it hunches forward with each careful stride of a strident pedal. Undyne’s gasped expression begins to quiver after being held for so long, and her eyes close in pain with each poorly maintained metallic creak.

“Hello, darli-”

The processed voice of Alphys instantly devolves into a series of auto-tuned coughs and hacks that has her wobbling back and forth with each one. She doesn’t fall though, impressing every onlooker, even Mettaton himself. Aofil can hear the telltale sound of his printer churning inside him underneath his purple robe. Probably writing up a contract for Alphys’ performance.

Either that or a cease and desist letter.

After the dust clears after a bit more of Alphys impersonating an old oscilloscope, she takes a deep breath sounding very similar do a dying kazoo, and tries again.

“Hello, darlings!” she greets heartily as the panel on the front of her box blinks into a hand waving in two frames per second. “And welcome, my most beautiful of beauties, to today’s quiz show!”

A loud and mechanical clunk reverberates throughout the Lab, even shaking the upstairs bathroom as if an earthquake. Seconds later, a pair of large and ornate disco balls descend from the inner roof above Frisk and Undyne, with a neon sign proudly screaming in all its splendor, ‘GAMF SHOW’!

Wait a second…

“Gamf show?” Aofil reads out loud, causing the necks of the rest of the bathroom’s inhabitants to tilt up away from Frisk.

The sound of Asriel’s eyes widening is almost audible.

“But…I checked it,” he defends as he presses his palm against his forehead. “I took the sign out and checked that it would light up before I hanged it up! I...” His hand drops down on his leg with a gasp dragged out of horrified realization. “I only took it out a bit from the box… B-but, what are the odds? Of all the letters to be wrong?”

“should’ve gotten to the bottom of it,” Sans advises in his usual unhelping way while making sure to be far enough back and at an awkward angle for Asriel to not be able to take a swipe at him. He’s not safe from the murderous glare thrown though, but even that brushes off him like water onto Onionsan. “i’d say you’re hung up on it, but you did that before, at least.”

Asriel hides his skeleton-painted face in his skeleton-painted hands with an unpainted sigh going through his skeleton-painted fingers.

Because he boned it.

Aofil pretends their chortle is a cough by faking a few more. “Oh, it’s actually ganf show,” they correct after looking a bit closer, prompting another sigh from Asriel.

“Maybe the confetti will land on the sign enough to hide it being wrong?” he prays through his tensed fingers.

“Everyone give a big hand for our wonderful contestant!” Alphys cheers with her arm thrown majestically up. It comes shooting back down do her body, slamming into the box and causing her to wobble on her wheel as confetti explodes as if violently sneezed from the roof.

The bent neon pipes shatter as the confetti charges into them, igniting in a poisonous flame that’s mesmerizing to look at, but not really the best to breathe in. Frisk agrees to that by pushing their sweater harder against their face and backing away from the charred pieces of papers falling gently down like leafs in autumn.

Radentim shoves his and or her very inquisitive head around their corner for a moment before shaking it with eyes widened in bafflement and retreating back out of sight.

A silent beat passes before the Lab erupts in alarms, the red lights melding together with the disco balls and casting streaks of crimson glitter all around the now screeching Lab.

“Radentim!” Undyne shouts over the alarms, pushing her voice all the way from her yellow toes to overpower the upset bells. “Pull the lever!”

The alarms abruptly stop and Frisk timidly withdraws their hands from their ears. They seem quite dazed from the sudden sirens, and twists their fingers inside their ears while moving their mouth in a vertical circle to try and pop back their eardrums into fuctioning.

“Right lever!” Undyne throws her thanks towards the end of the Lab, getting a tentacled thumb up in response that hurries back to continue its magazine reading.

“I tested them too...” Asriel’s arms fall down in utter defeat on his knees. His head falls onto the bathroom wall, cracking a tile when the root of his horns slams into it. “Ow,” he states without emotion. Not even pain. Just a statement letting everyone know that he’s alive.

As if anyone would care now after two major blunders.

Maybe he should blunder his eyes and never open them again?

“It’s Undyne that’s supposed to be Alphys, son,” Asgore comforts with a large and steady arm around his kid’s shoulders. Without the slightest effort he lifts up his limp son, giving the sagged a second rapid tug to allow the loose head to pivot over to Asgore’s soft shoulder where it lands with an overly dramatic moan. “It’s not like anything’s been going according to the script, has it?”

This earns him a rather ominous look from Toriel over her shoulder, but as she sees her defeated son not even acknowledging his father’s comforting words, her traits soften. “Oh, Asriel.” She gently caresses his cheek with the back of her gloved hand. It brings a confused look on Asriel’s face feeling the rubbery texture of her skin-colored glove along with her familiar touch. 

A step up from the sad expression though, if anything.

Asgore’s right though about the script. Not from a human’s perspective though, which Aofil feels like they need to say.

“I think Frisk has had more fun knowing you all are giving it your all despite it going as well as one could assume considering it’s us that set it up for them.”

All eyes on Aofil because of that statement. Almost even Undyne and Alphys through the screen as they nervously check the camera while they wait for the Lab fans to clear out the gas from the broken neon sign.

“And by that I of course mean me as well,” Aofil appends while tapping their chest. They look to Muffet for allowance to lift their head from hers, and she gives it with an approving nod. “Everything not going according to plan feels...human, in a way, to me. And I suspect to Frisk too. To err is human, as they say.” 

They look around to see that their point wasn’t exactly lost, but it would be quite stressful to find it if one had a plane to catch. Their tongue runs the rim of their mouth as they try to figure out how to rephrase it better. “It’s like…I think it’s better this way. The script… A script isn’t really something we can follow, is it?”

To that they at least get some murmur and half-agreeing nods. From Muffet they get a full one though, as well as a pair of hungrily curious eyes.

And another pair of admiring ones.

And one closed due to a strand of Aofil’s hair lying on it.

“Had the script been followed I wouldn’t have left you before. I wouldn’t have come back after I left you. You wouldn’t have been the friends and family I’d needed.” Aofil clenches their teeth in a twisted grimace as if they bit down on an uncooked snail hiding inside an otherwise wonderful piece of pie. “You wouldn’t have been the friends and family Frisk needed, I mean, mostly.” They scoff an uncomfortable chuckle. “It’s about them today. I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Toriel says with a slow blink. “You are also our human, Aofil. Continue.”

Muffet places another of her hand on Aofil’s shoulder, giving them a smile that pushes her fang down into her chin so cutely.

“What I’m trying to say is that Frisk and I can never ever express how grateful we are to have met you, and even more so that we can be a part of your silly family, and I say that with all the love I can muster for the two of us. We’d never want you all to be stuck to some script, to some fate and destiny you can’t control. Like how you were before the Barrier.”

Aofil has to pause to quell themselves so they can finish stumbling towards their point.

“And I’m sorry, Toriel, but the script being torn in half like this is so relieving to see. It shows so much that you monsters are able to put the Barrier behind you, and doing it in such a way that has Frisk crying with relief on my shoulders, and me on theirs.”

Toriel looks at her son, who nods. “Same here,” he admits, but without any repentance to his words. “We cried too. They were so happy. So happy it was all behind them.”

Chara…

“So relieved it didn’t matter any longer.”

Toriel blinks as her gaze returns to herself. She hesitates to turn her head back to the screen, but does so after meeting the eyes of each single monster sharing the bathroom with her.

As well as the human, of course.

“The script,” she mumbles as she lays eyes on the image of Undyne and Alphys eagerly whispering to each other while Radentim comes into view to hand a magazine to Frisk’s outstretched, striped arm. “Guess it was only for me then.” She inhales in a way only she can, both introspective and chastising at the same time, but unlike the previous one’s Aofil’s encountered, she’s chastising herself. “Frisk...is an adult now.” The words seem to hurt Toriel as she immediately recoils hearing herself say it.

Her scowl fades away as she convinces herself that she had to hear it.

“I...have to accept that. I have to accept that Frisk isn’t the kid that I met in the Ruins any longer. They can take care of themselves. Frisk is an adult.” She puts her gloved hand up to her mouth, but the confusion from the touch is more detrimental than helpful, and she puts it down on her knee again where it’s damage is lesser. “I have to put the Ruins behind me. The script. I have to let go of the script. They’re an adult...”

Asgore moves his other arm around his wife, bringing her sobs and the rest of her into his and her kid’s embrace. 

“You others join in too,” he asks the rest of the bathroom. “You’re all family.”

And they gladly follow that order.

If only Frisk was here though…

Next time.

And even bigger hugs for next time!

“Alright!” Undyne shouts, startling the hugging pile, but luckily not enough for it to descend into an even bigger mess of limbs.

Would be forever locked together if Muffet had gotten stuck, that’s for a fact.

Frisk folds close their ‘Metabolism with Mettaton’ magazine and tosses it with a spin onto the keyboard of the large Lab computer.

“Time to get this show started!”

Again.


	165. Extended bathroom break

“Applications of the Undying Theorem through the consideration of multivariate fields of covarianced waves sourced by spheres containing-”

Asriel shuts off the sound on the speakers by letting his hand fall haphazardly onto the dial. Alphys’ digitized voice disappears with a last hark from the speakers’ membranes, leaving the bathroom with nothing but the unfocused breathing of its cramped inhabitants.

No difference from before since no one was really listening to begin with.

With a jaw-splitting yawn, Asriel leans back with his thumbs rubbing his temples while his chin hits his toes. “It’s a Sunday...” he mutters after a feeble attempt to smack his lips to scare away the tiredness washing over him like an unwilling shower. “I’m supposed to not learn anything on a Sunday.” Not even him pushing up his eyelids with his fingers is enough to hide how drained he is. “You a hundred percent sure about going off script still, Aofil?” he challenges with a sharp skeleton-motifed hand thrown at the screen.

The lights on Alphys’ face plate still blink and shimmer, indicating that she’s still talking. Toriel enables the speakers again with a quick twist of her wrist.

“The sources are under a the moderate effect of induction and-”

No, not even Toriel can continue with this. It’s been what, half an hour now? If there wasn’t any lack of oxygen in the bathroom before Alphys began she’s siphoned any and all of it away like a vacuum of pure...

Boring!

Too late now to enable sticking to the script again since there isn’t a single one awake enough to have that idea.

Aofil’s tempted to ignore the printed out paper on Mettaton’s chest politely asking not to restart him until Alphys’ done ruining his show just so that their heart doesn’t stop out of sheer boredom. It’s barely invested enough to circulate the bare minimum of blood, resulting in some tingling sensation in their extremities.

Although that could also be how strangely they’re sitting down, and how much Muffet is leaning on them with her smooth, yet still rough enough to be assertive, skin touching Aofil’s. They way her face is radiating grace and peace overpowers the tingling felt though, and Aofil wouldn’t have it any other way.

Mettaton sleeping next to her is in stark contrast anything but graceful, to be perfectly honest. With his head slumped to the side with a bit too much an angle too it, looking like a lazily abandoned decapitation. Had it been Aofil’s head in that position they’d probably had their jugular pinched and their throat twisted off.

The way Mettaton’s tied his stapled-on ears in a neat bow underneath his chiseled chin does produce an amused sniffle out of Aofil. Toriel’s not gonna be happy with the way he’s jammed his horns into the wall behind him to act as hooks so that he doesn’t slide down though, but the faint imagery of Mettaton hanging himself up on the wall produces a second, more powerful sniffle out of Aofil.

But again, Aofil comes back to the long and floppy ears reminiscent of the Dreemurrs hanging down Mettaton’s metallic cheeks. They find themselves caught by an idea that they’ve never thought about before. The fact that they haven’t before is strange, almost oblivious. It should’ve been the first question they asked the Boss Monsters the first night they spent in Aofil’s house. If not the first then the second. If not the second then the third. Point being, they’ve gone years without asking! 

It would be akin to the monsters not asking Aofil if their soul is a human’s!

Now is the time though. Answers are to be found, having been left buried for far too long!

Aofil turns to Asriel. “Do you use your ears as a sorta...”

Oh, he’s already doing it.

Asriel lifts one of his ears of one eye. “What?” he asks while peeking inquisitively from underneath his fluffy sleeping mask. 

“Was just about to ask you about that,” Aofil confesses with a tired chuckle.

“About what?” Asriel replies while his eye narrows from underneath the shadow of his ear and annoyed hand holding it up. “Oh, this?” he realizes while gently giving his ear a floppy bounce with his fingers. “Why? Are you jealous?” he pries with a half-confused tone to his question.

No. Of course not, that’d be silly.

Well, yes, Aofil is jealous, but that’s not important right now.

“You do that too?” Aofil shoots along to Asgore.

The slight angle he turns his laid back head on his arms crossed underneath his horns for support causes one of his folded ears over his eyes to slid off and tug like a string-switch for a lamp. “Hmm?” he voices having been switched on by his ear. Not a lot of watts in his lamp at the moment though.

“Nevermind.”

Asgore shrugs his rounded shoulders and lifts up his ear again, placing it down like the final piece of a large puzzle. He reconstitutes his lips with a quick run of his tongue, and clears his nose of any bad air. 

Toriel pulls away her own ears and holds them between her thumbs and index fingers on each of her gloved hands while casting a hard glare behind her. It’s piercing enough that Asgore rolls his head over to the side with a quick hem that pretends not to have been affected. 

The fact that his ear doesn’t slid out underneath his other one has Aofil tapping their thumb on their leg thoughtfully. Friction perhaps? Tensing it in place? Suction from the two insides pressed together? Maybe? The ears don’t look twisted enough to allow for both of his ears’ insides to make contact, but then again that could just be from the dim light currently pulsating in rhythm with MK’s heaving breaths.

Guess his armor is still conjured by some form of subconscious thought. Must be total admiration of Undyne, if Aofil were to guess. That’s the only thing that would be constantly conscious in MK’s subconscious. Growing stronger with each inhale, and calming in intensity with each exhale through his flapping nostrils.

Toriel concludes with a huffing nod that Asgore’s not about to start snoring, and places herself gently on his laps before leaning her head onto his chest. A content smile begins on Asgore’s lips, and spreads quickly to Toriel’s. She burrows her head deeper into her husband’s armor, taking delicate care not to push her horns enough for it to hurt him. He’d probably weather any pain she’d ever accidentally inflict on him though.

Aofil sees Toriel and Asgore cozying up together, folding the other's ears over the softly closed eyes and carrying that movement into a respective hug, but all they can feel is a creeping jealousy traveling up their back that smothers the ease they feel from the peaceful way the two are enjoying their shared company. 

Toriel and Asgore must be feeling the other’s aura. That warm, soothing experience shared between monsters.

Aofil carefully angles their head to the nuzzling spider monster currently napping with a smile on their shoulder.

Shared between monsters…

Not humans.

Is Muffet trying the same with her aura against Aofil’s? Prodding for Aofil to answer back with their own? She can feel theirs, right? The hope that is their red soul? Or whatever it was Sans described it as? Can all the monsters in the bathroom feel Aofil’s human aura? Like a constant buzzing of sorts? The sound of an old and weathered fluorescent lamp, or maybe a jackhammer at three in the morning?

Can’t be pleasantly sounding which how much doubt Aofil is feeling now. From what they’ve gathered from walking past Alphys’ soul lesson while the door was opened, emotions travel through the monster’s aura. Like how sound travels faster through metal than in air, if Aofil’s were forced to put a human spin to it.

Monsters evidently have control with how much they can spread their soul to others, otherwise Asriel would’ve been grimacing with his tongue out at Asgore putting his arms over Toriel like two large and sturdy blankets for her to warm herself with. Or perhaps he’d be smiling at how Toriel meets Asgore’s offering with her own arms sneaking around both sides of his waist. Another sign of leaving the Barrier behind for him.

A coin toss which emotion Asriel would show, but it would at least be one. Right now his lower jaw is hanging down as if perpetually widely surprised. Maybe if he’d had another pair of hanging ears he could’ve taken a cue from Mettaton and tied those underneath his chin to hold it up while he was sleeping?

And speaking of Asriel, would it be him Muffet would be feeling if Aofil was to try and meet her aura? Asriel is the part of Aofil that is monster, after all. Aofil’s word, but spoken with Asriel’s voice. Or something along those lines, albeit more emotional and monster like. It would be a bit awkward, if not very awkward since Asriel and all the other monsters have their tendencies to just show up at Aofil’s house without asking. Muffet could potentially think it’s Aofil coming home when in fact it’s Asriel coming over for...whatever reason. Maybe wanting to ask for some tips about university?

There aren’t really a lot of proper reasons Aofil can figure out for Asriel to come over and visit without asking, but that’s what makes it annoying when he does. When any of the monsters do.

Annoying in the sense that they seemingly always manage to visit when Aofil’s planned to set aside some time to do something that needs doing like repaint some planks or reorganize their bookshelf.

And then the monsters wonder if they can help and it turns into half an adventure if not a whole to do what was originally planned because Aofil just wanted to do a normal gray thing that’s functional, but the monsters insist that the gray should be at least a bit colorful, which turns into a kaleidoscope of a rainbow before Aofil can blink and suddenly the whole day is gone trying to wrestle it back into gray.

They’re still finding crooked things from when their house settled into its uneven squat after Undyne began taunting it.

The first and only time Aofil is ever going to admit this, but they’re thankful for Sans’ laziness.

Anyways, the mental picture of Muffet eagerly jumping into what she’d think to be Aofil’s human arms just to fall into Asriel’s startled Boss Monster arms is not really a picture Aofil would be in a hurry to put over the mantle piece. They’re not sure if they’d ever be able to put something there in the first place. If they can’t even meet Muffet’s aura-hug, then what the hell would even be good enough a picture to put up! 

Aofil really, really hopes that Muffet isn’t trying to feel for them now since they can’t respond in earnest to it. Again, they don’t know if they have the functionality to. At the same time though they also really, really hope that Muffet is trying because she wants to. That she’s not being bought off by Mettaton like Aofil suspected before. That they even have that doubt is...

Aofil looks at their chest as their defeated sighs flops their head down.

Can they perhaps ask Alphys about it? Should they even ask Alphys about it? And what should they ask, really? For Alphys to make Aofil more like a monster? Have her literally strip Aofil of their humanity? Give it to Muffet for her to become more a human? Wouldn’t that be dangerous though? Monsters can’t handle determination, and with Aofil having a red soul and-

“Stringed up in your spiderverse, Aofil?”

They lift their head heavy with thoughts to meet Toriel’s gentle whisper. “You can go back to napping,” they ask of her looking over with an earnest smile. Even with her ears over her eyes Aofil can feel her concerned look wash over them. “I’ll keep a lookout on the screen if something important happens.”

Toriel shakes an ear off her face. “Are you thinking about Muffet?” Aofil’s immediate glance betrays them, but Toriel only smiles warmly back with tender amusement. “If you want to talk about unorthodox pairings I should inform you that I was but a bar maiden when the prince of monsters first laid eyes on me.” Toriel looks up while tickling her nose on Asgore’s beard. “Isn’t that right, soup-seducer dear?”

“Yeah,” Asgore says in reflex through a single startled snore. He smiles out of obligation before his face returns to its relaxed state. “Sure, Tori,” he whispers through his exhaling yawn.

Toriel chuckles to herself. “I was actually arrested when Gerson found out about us,” she says dreamily. “But I think that offense is barred now.”

“I have a friend that fell in love with a monster before me,” Aofil explains after resting their eyes on Muffet’s gentle breathing. “So it’s not that it’s unorthodox. Well, it is, but...”

“Is it because you’re not sure how to love her back with her being a monster?”

Muffet looks so incredibly peaceful while she’s sleeping… With so many eyes closed in complete trust and love, how can she not be? “I don’t know?” Aofil answers with a heaving sigh while keeping their shoulder that Muffet’s sleeping on still so that she’s not disturbed by Aofil being disturbed. “You monsters are more...intimate? You can express your love better than us humans can. We can’t do it through our souls, but you can. I’m worried Muffet won’t...”

“She will.”

Assertive, almost ordering. Not angry, but neither gentle. Stern, but understanding. It holds Aofil down, but only to protect them.

“She asked about you,” Toriel adds. “She asked about the human that visited her dressed in pink and yellow. The human that promised her they’d visit her bakery on the Surface.”

“Well,” Aofil huffs through their nostrils, “we all know how promises end.”

“In you fulfilling them?” Toriel again asks in her assertive manner. “She was the one that kept up hope in you returning, Aofil, and she wasn’t wrong.”

Evidently not.

“We’d all like for you to have returned earlier, of course. For Frisk to have had a human adult near them,” Toriel turns her head behind Asgore to her son who’s tongue now has escaped his mouth, “and for Asriel too.”

“Yeah...”

“We should’ve been more active in finding more humans though,” Toriel admits while turning her head back onto her husband-shaped pillow. “It’s not your fault, Aofil. You are of good soul, just like Frisk. Muffet will feel your love, human. I promise you it’ll work out the best for both of you.”

Aofil’s not sure if they should ask what they want to ask. So many times they’ve regretted asking, and having it been asked to them too. But in the end it did work out, right? Toriel said as much, and it’s true. Aofil’s mouth tugs from side to side, forming the shapes of the words, but their tongue refuses to speak them.

Do it for her.

“Do you...promise, Toriel?”

Toriel meets Aofil’s watering eyes with a solid nod to reassure them that they don’t have anything to fear. Not here, not never. “I promise, Aofil,” she says in her eternal motherly warmth. “Of course I do, from the depths of my soul. Muffet will love you for the human you are.”

Just barely enough to be felt, Aofil’s tail flickers, reminding them that they can only take Toriel’s promise to heart, and not to soul. “Thank you,” they still return as sincerely as they can. Because Toriel’s monster words ring true to Aofil’s human world, so maybe Aofil can really be a part of Muffet’s monster world.

Perhaps Aofil should talk to Muffet about this? Before their date, if possible. They don’t wanna sully the dinner by potentially scaring Muffet. Preferably alone, just the two of them. They’ll let Muffet sleep it out though. Not in a million years would they dare disturb her the way she’s now.

Aofil checks the screen along with Toriel, dragging a similar sigh as she does when Undyne flips the blackboard around to show that the backside is also filled with illegible equations.

Upside down as well, but Undyne fixes that easily by bending the legs around so they’re standing inverted. Alphys then continues along with her quiet quiz.

“Poor Frisk having to study on a weekend,” Aofil says with a dramatic shake to their head. “And taking the exam on the same day.”

“Compared to the kids complaining that we don’t give them enough time to study,” Toriel adds with a chuckle that has Asgore’s large arms bouncing on her shoulders. “It looks like they’re taking it with stride. It’s not our fault though that the children don’t pay attention at class, right Aofil?”

“No,” they agree while returning Toriel’s smile back at her. “It’s the children that are wrong.”

“Naturally.”

“Which I guess is why Frisk isn’t complaining and instead is smiling widely with auntie Alphys and Undyne putting on such a fantastic show on their birthday. Sitting still and listening without taking out their phone every three seconds is a mark of a proper grown up.”

Toriel’s chuckle is more reserved this time around. “You were right about me having to accept that Frisk is an adult now, Aofil.” She taps her horn with a skin-gloved finger. “All these years I've been annoyed about being called a goat, but I realize now it's because I've actually been a goose mama.”

“You have your...reasons,” Aofil regrets almost immediately saying. They gotta choose their words more carefully about this. Otherwise they’re just gonna bring her back into her memories.

“I...had,” she replies while dragging Asgore’s arms tighter around her. “But those reasons were before the Barrier. I carried it with me as baggage. Paragraphs brought with from before into our new chapter. I should’ve lead with example and left it behind.”

“You’ve raised two wonderful kids,” Aofil tries in an anxious attempt to salvage the situation. “So don’t be so hard on yourself. Frisk and Asriel are gonna be equally wonderful adults because of you and Asgore. Goose, goat, doesn’t matter, you’re still their best mama.”

“Only mama they’ve had,” Toriel retorts before scoffing it away immediately. “I’m grateful for your words though, Aofil. The two are adults now, and I will treat them as such.”

“No, no you won’t.”

And Aofil says that with all the love they can muster.

“No, no I won’t,” Toriel repeats with a wide and thankful smile. “They’re always gonna be my kids, and I will always be their mother, and the sooner they accept that, the better. I’ll make them regret wanting to be adults,” she winks slyly. “They’ll come crawling back for pie within the week after leaving the goose nest.”

“Hm?” A single snore escapes Asriel, flopping his ears down from his half-opened eyes. “Pie?” he wonders while moistening his lips. 

Hears only what he wants to hear, doesn’t he?

“Pie?” arrives along a deeper snore from Asgore. Toriel offers a helpful claw to gently brush aside his ears from his face. “Should I put on tea?” he offers while yawning reluctantly. He can’t cover it with his hands since those are occupied by Toriel at the moment, so it’s a fierce battle between his fading tiredness trying its best to yawn and his kingly manners fighting it close. 

Toriel shakes her head at Aofil with a motherly eye roll. “See what I mean? Not even my dear husband can taut the string connecting him to my pies.”

“Hm, Tori?” Asgore asks while tilting his head down, brushing the top of Toriel’s head with his bears as he does. “Did you say something?”

“No, Gori,” she replies while circling her muzzle around his. “Aofil and I were just talking about some teacher matters.”

“Pie?” Asriel blurts out in repeat after rubbing his eyes with the least painted parts of his hands. “I heard pie.”

Of course he did.

“Speaking of school matters.” Asgore points his captured claw towards the screen. “Seems like the lesson is over.”

“...inally as smart as a monster, aren’t you now, human?” Undyne let’s go of her tail nestled neatly between her gripping hands.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you up ahead then, darling,” Alphys says with an impressed whistle as she closes her opened book in her hands. “Be sure to buy any Mettaton merchandise you come along. Toodles!”

Frisk points left and right, left and right, left and right. Which door to use? 

Undyne motions subtly, her own special kinda subtly, towards the main door, and Frisk acknowledges by clicking their pen and inserting it into the spiral thread at the top of their notebook which they pocket.

“Guess we’re allowed outside,” Muffet says after rubbing her sleep out of her eyes. Aofil’s a bit too late catching the action, and they feel a deep disappointment wash over them. Once the tired is out she meets Aofil with a smile. “Shall we?”

“I’d actually like to stay for a bit,” Aofil replies.

“Why?” MK asks over his confused shoulder. “Why would you ever?”

Aofil counters each pair of eyes thrown at them for this seemingly strange request. They motion once with their hand over to the corner. “Because I’m a human.”

A worryingly long second passes before the monsters get the gist. They all scramble up on their feet to relieve Aofil of any faux pas.

So that they can relieve themselves.

Aofil is thankful that the monsters only pushed in on their legs and not their stomach or bladder, otherwise things would’ve been very desperate. They’re not in a hurry, exactly, but they’d rather go now that they have the chance.

There’s no script to be followed so there’s no telling what will happen when Frisk reaches the next area, or when Aofil’s gonna get the next chance to be human for a while.

Before they can sit down though, they feel a presence beginning to emerge in the sheltered dark of the opposite corner of the bathroom. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Aofil darling, but may I-”

“Nope.”

Mettaton’s not allowed anything here.

“I just-”

Aofil throws their arm viciously at the door, “Out!” and to their surprise, Mettaton actually listens. He even closes the door behind him, which Aofil promptly locks.

And while they’re sitting down they might as well try and get rid of some stuffing in their nose. Going from a prolonged stay in the Waterfall to almost immediately getting put into a cramped and dry room is starting to give them some sniffles. They reach for the toilet paper and…

And…

Oh no…

There’s a soft knock at the door. Soft like a full toilet roll being knocked just hard enough for anyone inside to realize that it is a roll of toilet paper to be bargained for.

Oh no.

“MTT branded softness. Designed by monsters for human needs,” Mettaton sings. “Can I count on your testimony for its comfort, Aofil?”

God.

Freaking.

Dammit.


	166. Munstering up to talk

“Do pray tell, Aofil deary.”

Can they at least have a second or two to button their pants? The toilet has not even finished refilling for another flush and Aofil’s already smelling trouble as they exit from the bathroom door to come face to face with an awaiting Mettaton standing with his hands on his hip tucked to the side.

“With your slate wiped clean.”

That’s...disgusting.

“And after having a sit down to think.”

Not making it any better.

“And with you hands washed of the manner, I hope.”

Aofil’s the one susceptible to bacteria and what have you, so yes, that too.

“Out of a scale from ‘yes’ to ‘oh yes’, would you recommend the wonderful MTT branded softness that’s designed for human needs by monster, the all new MTT ‘Sheet for Shit’ made with the finest-”

“Stop,” Aofil sternly vetoes with their hand held upright. They shake their head while grimacing. That name… No. No. No. The hell is that name? “We’re not doing this anymore.” That’s one ply too far.

Mettaton’s eyes dart back and forth. “Yes,” he begs to differ with a single nod, shaking his stapled-on ears like a bath towel filled with sand. “Yes, we are.”

Aofil’s eyes dart back and forth. “No,” they beg to differ with a single shake to their head, swiveling their hair as if on a carousel. “No, we are not.”

“You said-”

“You didn’t say that the name for your toilet paper was ‘Sheet for Shit’,” Aofil interrupts with an accusing finger pointing fiercely at the roll presented in Mettaton’s hand. It’s adorned with small sprites of Mettaton’s box form with arms stretching outwards for a hug. Had Aofil seen those before using it barely a minute ago they wouldn’t be feeling this unpleasant feeling smothering them at the moment.

They wouldn’t even considered using it in the first place, even if it was half an emergency.

When is Aofil gonna realize that anything MTT branded is the hurtful kinda branded? A dark glyph upon which it curses the product to forever be subject to its pink marketing overlord.

“Aofy, beauty, human,” Mettaton tries to coax while extending his arm around Aofil’s neck. The robe he’s wearing does a bit to keep the segments on his arms from chafing, but Aofil can still feel each of the segments bump along their vertebrates. “Just for a second, please?” Mettaton again coos as Aofil reaches up to swat away the prolonged arm, and prolonged beg.

“How long have you been on the Surface now?” Aofil pries with their eyes narrowed hard and their voice condescending. “How long have you ignored how we humans think about using the toilet? That it is a private matter for certain percentage of us? A hundred and one percent, error marginal one percent?”

“Oh,” Mettaton pretends to think. He whistles a jaunty tune, which Aofil hazards to be the theme he’s commissioned for the toilet paper’s commercial. “An exact date I’ve all gone and forgot,” he regrets to inform while sounding a bit too similar to Toriel for it to be sincere. “I’ve been distracted so, Aof,” Mettaton continues with a pretend hurt expression on his white-painted face. “It’s quite hard to focus while feeling the Prince inside of you.”

He…

“But if I were to guess I’d say a month or so after you and the Prince...mingled. Is that good enough for you?”

“You...”

Gently, Mettaton angles Aofil’s frozen chin and head up to meet his soft stare. “I know a thing or two about possession, darling.” He runs a thumb over the patch of fur on Aofil’s forearm. “It’s in my nature, and apparently in yours too, beauty you.”

The act would be beyond comfortable coming from Muffet, but Mettaton’s knowing thumb only sends cold chills down and up Aofil’s spine with each bent strand he passes over. He’s kind enough to pluck away some wayward yarn that’s knotted itself from Aofil’s striped sweater. With his remaining fingers he rolls the strands together into a small ball which he flicks away.

“The two of you aren’t one though, I hope?” Mettaton asks after a disappointed frown takes root on his face seeing the small, orange yarn ball bounce on the rim of the trashcan he was aiming for. “A human soul is so much more powerful than a monster’s, after all. So with him having yours inside of him, would it mean that it’s actually you in control?”

The anger building up inside of Aofil is enough for them to clench their fist, but that seems to only amuse Mettaton, and he leans even closer, now embracing Aofil fully from behind. “He did steal your twin away from you, didn’t he?”

That’s it!

Aofil throws Mettaton’s arm off their shoulder. This has gone too far now. Aofil’s not gonna curse him out though, that’s exactly what he wants. Explosive emotion he can later manipulate in the editing bay to show how much Aofil is adoring his product. He’s done it before, and he sure as hell is gonna do it now!

“If any of this goes out you’ll know what will happen, right?” Aofil pushes with two of their fingers planted hard on Mettaton’s chest. “With Toriel, Asgore, everyone? You want another war on your hands? Remember the Riot? Imagine that, but with fear rooted in evidence. Everything that’s been built on the Surface will come crumbling down. Especially your own brand.” 

Mettaton doesn’t give an answer.

Then Aofil is gonna cut it straight to the point. “Whatever is in Asriel is his.” They move their fingers over to their own striped chest. “And whatever is inside me is mine. Alright? We’ve both agreed on that, and therefore it is so. It’s behind us, both of us. That includes my twin too, so don’t mention it again.”

A friendly nod has Mettaton’s ears bouncing gleefully again. He smiles warmly, but Aofil’s isn’t buying it. “Of course I understand, Aofy darling. After all,” Mettaton throws his arms out with great showmanship, “I know a thing or two about this, don’t I?”

Aofil’s reluctant to answer that. What they and Asriel have is completely different from what Mettaton has. It’s not even close! They should take their chance to get out of this conversation as soon as possible though. “Good,” they reply as they turn around towards the escalator running down to the ground floor. “Glad you got it.”

“But do you?”

With only one hand on the escalator’s handrail, Aofil’s thrown forward as their legs and feet turn to stiff concrete. They’re rescued by Mettaton’s extended arm curling around their chest like a cradle, and they’re pulled back to Mettaton staring at them with unknown intent.

“Do you understand?” he repeats.

Aofil doesn’t even understand what they’re supposed to understand. “W-what?”

“How fantastically soft and how magically refreshing ‘Sheet for shit’ is to your human moments?” Mettaton exclaims while turning his head towards a camera extended from his back. He again rolls Aofil into a large embrace. “In stores everywhere, but especially in your local MTT branded store and or mall! Don’t let nature keep you from being a star in your own home! A monster guarantee for a human product!”

Aofil’s head rolls over to the side. “Dammit,” they mutter. He got them with the manipulation… 

“Now, with that out of the way.” Mettaton clears his throat as the camera retracts back into his back with a very complicated fold of its extended rod to fit inside. “You don’t understand, do you?”

Aofil blinks. “Come again?”

“About the part of Asriel’s soul inside of you,” Mettaton feels a bit silly having to say again. How could Aofil forget so quickly? “You don’t understand what you said about it. You don’t see it as your own. You still feel that it’s Asriel’s.”

“I don-”

“You do,” Mettaton punctuates as if talking to a child. “I felt everything in the bathroom.”

Uuuuuhhhhh…

“Not your human time, darling,” he waves away with a chuckle. “But trust me that I’d love to share that experience with you one day, human.”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

“Could I get to my point?”

“Please do.” With expedience too.

Mettaton licks his lips. Completely unnecessary since he doesn’t have to make them moist to actually talk, but whatever, Aofil should actually pay some attention now they feel. If they can, that is, which might be a bit difficult since they’re feeling quite confused at the immediate moment.

“Muffet deserves better than a human that’s so unwilling to accept monsterkind.”

Aofil’s head tilts down the escalator at their friends and family commenting about Frisk countering the spin from the vents by jumping at it while turning their body the opposite way. They have moderate success with their maneuver. “They’re all monsters,” Aofil feels extremely silly having to point out to Mettaton.

Who is also a monster.

“But you see them as humans, don’t you?” Mettaton counters with a slight tug at Aofil’s human cheek. “Like yourself?”

Well… “Yeah?” Or... “Maybe?” But... “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mettaton tries again with his hand spinning on his wrist a bit too generously, “you’ve never truly accepted that they’re monsters in your heart, haven’t you? And I say heart because evidently you haven’t in your soul, Aofy.” He smacks his lips, making good use of the moistening to Aofil’s surprise. “It’s better for you to see them as humans, since that’s what you are, that’s what you’ve been, and that’s what you’ll always be, right?”

Y...Yes? Isn’t that good though?

“That isn’t good though,” Mettaton answers despite not having heard the question. “For starters, you are not a human. I can’t remember the last time I heard of a human with a monster soul inside of theirs.”

“How did you-”

“Alphys,” Mettaton answer without missing a beat.

“Right...”

“Might not be a lot of monster in you,” he continues while again running a finger over Aofil’s patch of fur. “It might just be a single thread in the red ball of yarn that is your soul, but it is something.” His brow lowers as he begins scratching at the root of their fur. “What do you use as a conditioner, Aofy? Because I think you might need to use a different brand that helps with dandruff. I have some on sale should you need.”

Does Aofil need to smack Mettaton in the back of his head again to ‘fix’ him akin to what MK does from time to time? They do have the right tail for some percussive maintenance at their disposal.

“Secondly, you’re not planning on spending your life with a human. You’re planning to spend your life with a monster, and that’s gonna be impossible if you see her as a human. It’s gonna be impossible for you to truly love her if you still feel as if it’s Asriel inside of you.”

“But...” Aofil’s mouth fails them as they can’t figure out the contradiction Mettaton just dug himself into. What is his game, really? To convince Aofil that they have to accept their monster part too? But why did he then say it was Asriel inside of them?

Is Aofil falling into another trap or something?

“I didn’t get a minute’s sleep with the doubt in your aura washing over me like my fan mail after I do a live show. Call it a conduit of sorts, your monster part. Your words, but Asriel’s voice screaming them as loud as he can.”

Like with MK’s magic.

With a very deliberately dramatic motion down the stairs, Mettaton shakes his head with a deep sigh. “Can’t imagine how it was for the spider monster pretending to gently sleep on your shoulder.”

So Muffet did feel that…

“The same doubt is radiating off you now, Aofy deary.” Mettaton pats carefully on Aofil’s chest solemnly. “And the same doubt that will be radiating from you for the rest of your life if you don’t accept that monsters can be in your soul.” He again meets Aofil’s eyes with his own sincere ones.

And a little bit...accusingly?

“Muffet deserves someone who can take her fully into both heart and soul.”

Aofil’s never felt intimidated by Mettaton until now. They flinch as his eyes flash with a mix of indignation and antagonism.

“You make sure those years you spent abandoning her come back with interest, you hear?”

Hard not to with his metallic face and curled metallic lips pushing against Aofil’s head. “Yeah, sure,” they answer out of reflex to get him to back off a bit. Fluffbun, how much did Mettaton feel of Aofil’s doubt? He’s borderline disgusted by it.

The monster asking to watch Aofil use the toilet for a commercial is borderline disgusted about them not being completely comfortable with their relationship with Muffet.

Guess Mettaton is getting the tail-end of this argument as soon as he turns around and gives Aofil the chance. Because like hell is Aofil gonna get a moral lesson from someone who’s moral compass is stuck because of all the shady business practices holding it back.

Turning his pink-laced coat wherever the money blows.

“We should join the others,” Aofil suggest while nodding towards the escalator. “Since I should have a talk with Muffet.”

Mettaton nods in agreement as he brushes his stapled ear out of his furrowed face. “You should,” he mutters, “if only to-”

A symphonic clang rings out throughout the large room of the Lab. Aofil barely has time to admire how accurate their swinging whip of their tail was before the melodic echo of the clang gives way to a violent crash of pink, black, white, and purple down the escalator. Mettaton’s arms and legs begin folding into each other as they extend like a pulled slinky with each, what would be, painful and awkward angle he hits the next step.

Aofil makes a show of holding on tight on the escalator railing as they step on while Mettaton approaches the lower floor like an abstract metal sculpture playing drums on two trash cans.

The ground eventually makes its acquaintance with Mettaton, and he slides to a halt with his legs folded over his shoulders and his head resting on his back with his neck curled underneath like a coil. The following silence is just a deafening as his escalating deescalation.

A couple of seconds later Aofil again makes a show of stepping off carefully from the escalator. They squat down next to the metallic shape vaguely reminiscent of Mettaton, making sure to lean weight back on their tail, just to be safe and to keep balance. There isn’t a need for someone else to take a fall, now is there?

“Nice!” cheers Undyne with both her arms thrust in the air, lifting up her lab coat over her waist. “Awesome!”

Aofil cranes their neck back as Mettaton’s tries to shake his head awake, only to collapse on its side with a soft ploff as his ear absorbs the fall. “Oh dear, oh dear,” he laments, albeit without any real emotion behind it. “Your star has fallen, darlings.”

“don’t lose your head,” Sans suggests after waiting a beat out of courtesy. “necks thing you know it might be out of your reach.”

“You need Alphys?” Aofil asks while angling Mettaton’s head up again.

“Not as much as you need to talk with Muffet so that the two of you can discuss your wedding plans,” comes a very aloof answer more in character for Mettaton. His internal printer again begins whirring for another set of contracts. How it’s still working after being thrown down the escalator will remain a mystery, but it’s a good sign that Aofil managed to reset Mettaton properly. All’s well that ends well. Mettaton is, almost, in pieces, and he doesn’t sound completely disgusted. Just as Aofil planned.

They still give his head a slight tap with their tail so that he flops down again though as they begin walking over to the Lab’s large screen. 

“Frisk doing alright?” Aofil voices curiously as they pass Alphys rolling over on her unicycle to Mettaton for some repairs.

“Taking a breather from being spun around by the vents,” MK explains with a nod towards the screen. “It’s strange though that they feel sick about it now instead of before. They’re older now, so shouldn’t they be more resilient?”

Aofil glances up to the screen showing Frisk bent over a railing facing away from the camera. It’s not close enough for them to actually see the vomit, but Frisk’s heaves are unmistakably violent. Poor kid. Getting dehydrated in the depth of Hotland isn’t really that good either. “Could someone get them some water perchance?” Aofil advises a bit hurriedly. “Maybe a fruit or something too? Unless they’re set to eat at MTT Hotel?”

“Still have Muffet in between, and more of Alphys,” Toriel mutters to herself in thought. “A fruit and some water might be a good idea,” she agrees while motioning for Sans to follow her to a nearby stack of boxes.

“Do you know why?” MK asks while snapping his head over to Aofil, eyes widened in anticipation.

“Do I know what?” Aofil replies after trying to figure out what MK meant by his abrupt inquiry.

“Why Frisk is feeling sick now and not when they went-”

“don’t you mean vent?”

Toriel spins Sans’ head back to the boxes.

“Not when they traveled,” MK emphasizes while glaring over his purple-glowing shoulder to Sans, “through the Underground. I can’t really figure out a reason myself.”

“Human kids can handle motion sickness better than adults due to the fact that their balance hasn’t developed completely,” Aofil explains while pointing towards their ear hole. “They haven’t figured out that they should feel ill about it, so to speak.”

“Oh?” MK nods to himself as his gears begin grinding inside his head. “So like, a reverse thing with my tail? I hadn’t grown into it yet, and Frisk hadn’t grown into realizing that they should be sick?”

“More or less,” Aofil agrees with an involuntary flick of their own tail.

“SO THAT WOULD MEAN THAT YOU’D BE EVEN MORE SICK SINCE YOU ARE SO SMART, RIGHT AOFIL?”

Asriel’s hand shoots up to cover a coughing attack that came over him all over a sudden for no reason whatsoever.

Aofil’s fully aware that monsters can’t get sick like that though, so they’re not really convinced by the prince’s coughing. “So about Mettaton?” they distract to bend the subject harder than the tumble he took down the escalator. “He did the thing again where he zoned out into a completely different person. Not the reason he fell,” Aofil quickly adds despite it probably doing more to paint them as guilty than it does their innocence. Added it just a tiny bit too quickly. “Seems like he’s been doing it more and more often.”

“Probably the chip he had Alphys install,” MK answers while scratching the back of his purple-armored head with his purple-armored tail. The sound is very strange to Aofil’s ears. It’s like two different metals grinding against each other, but more, for lack of a better word, magical. More arcane than how Mettaton sounded falling down the escalators. “Something to do with changing his emotions to better fit his character.”

“That’s explains it a bit.”

“Why?” MK turns around to Mettaton waiting patiently for Alphys to try and figure out which limb she should start working on. “What did he say?”

Aofil can’t stop their eyes from glancing over to Muffet, who’s taken it upon herself to help Toriel and Sans rummage through the stacked boxes. They tear their eyes off her far after it’s become blatantly obvious why they looked over. “Nothing important,” they still lie, hoping that the monsters get the gist.

Their somber intent is probably already radiating off them though, so what good did the lie do besides being obviously one?

Dammit.

“Toilet roll commercial?” MK guesses with a raised eyebrow underneath his conjured helmet. “I overheard him practicing his pitch to you before. Too bad you ain’t got Asriel nearby to cast an intense glare whenever he tries to get you to promote his stuff.” He taps on Aofil’s shoulder with his magical one. “Right, Az? Mettaton ain’t getting near Frisk with you around them, ain’t he?”

Asriel’s hand comes up to his chest, but he forces it up to his other shoulder instead which he scratches. “Yeah, too bad.” He meets Aofil’s eyes for a brief moment before returning to the screen. “Too bad,” he repeats under his breath.

MK’s not sure how to take the repeat, and his brow furrows in confusion. “...Sure...” He throws his brow open while subtly shaking his head at Aofil. “But yeah, you’re alone in this, unfortunately. I’d love to help, but,” he clenches his teeth together as he angles his head down in half shame, “I kinda get paid determining how well M’s business goes, so with you appearing on a commercial it means I’ll get more next paycheck, so...”

“Well,” Aofil drags out as they throw a thumb over their shoulder back towards the pile of Mettaton, “I kinda got a show out of it.”

“and speaking of show,” Sans chimes in while brandishing an apple and a water bottle in each of his hands. “it’s time.”

He waits patiently for a reaction, but there is none.

“show time, that i-”

“Yes, we got it,” Aofil speaks alone, but for everyone, with a forced smile thinning their lips.

“then i guess we’re gonna off-handily,” Sans continues while grabbing Muffet’s hand, which immediately drains Aofil’s smile of all and any luster, “be heading off then,” he ends while raising his voice loud enough so that Mettaton can hear.

Muffet nods towards Aofil. “See you in a bit.”

No, actually.

Aofil grabs Sans’ other wrist just as he’s about to turn dramatically for his shortcut.

“you know that it takes more effort from me to shortcut more people,” Sans’ irritated voice echoes in the cavern where him and his passengers find themselves in. He jerks his wrist out of Aofil’s hand.

“You got plenty of effort to spare,” Aofil replies while patting Sans’ soft stomach.

“it’s a pillow.”

Sure it is.

Muffet’s just as confused, but within it there’s a glimpse of wishful hope. Aofil confesses it with a soft nod towards her, and her eyes widen with glee.

“Could you leave us alone for a bit?” Aofil asks of Sans very carefully so that their intent is communicated well and clear. Each of their word is given enough pause to echo for clarification, and after turning his wide head from human to spider monster and back again, he gets the hint.

“gotta deliver the medicine, after all,” he says as an excuse before disappearing with a wink, leaving only a rushing breeze behind.

Aofil and Muffet stand alone in the subtly lit cavern adorned with pink fabric hanging from both ceiling and tables. Cups and doilies in similar hues holding the tablecloths down as Sans’ wind lifts it up. The faint smell of bakery is overshadowed by a pink smell. There’s a bit of a motif going around in Muffet’s old Spider Cafe, that as much Aofil can tell. 

…

Now what?

That’s...not something Aofil had planned, actually.

Talk they know they should, but...how? What to say?

Perhaps if they can-

A determined hand grips their striped collar, and their head is lifted up by another, more gentler hand lifting it up with two careful fingers. A third hand goes up their cheek, with a purple and roughly textured thumb softly caressing the rim of their red circle. Fourth one goes up the back of their head, each finger parting a valley to travel up to.

“Is it okay if I lead your first spider dance, human?”

The fifth and sixth arms answer the question for Aofil, dragging them into Muffet’s embrace.

And their lips onto hers.


	167. The humanity left behind

“Am I...interrupting...something?”

Aofil tries to turn to the voice, but they’re unable too. Golly, they’re feeling faint. At least it seems that they’re able to shake their head, but judging by that the rest of their body is locked tightly, they shouldn’t really. Embraced tightly is probably a better description, but the results is the same, that they can barely move. Flailing is the last thing they want to do now though while their mind is spinning.

The spider dance has taken its toll on Aofil. Them and Muffet, two for her dance, and she’s not letting go even now. Aofil again struggles to turn, but it’s to no avail. This moment they shared with Muffet has evolved into minutes, passed by without Aofil even realizing. How many? That Aofil can’t tell, even if they put their mind to it. Even if they could put their mind to it. It’s occupied by the storm whirling inside. Their lips are tingling from the sensation still lingering, their head red and hot. Each breath Aofil takes is comprised out of Muffet. They breathe her in, and they breathe her out. 

The few times they’re able to take any. 

They’ve not been let go for so long. They’ve not been allowed to even think about leaving for just as long. Why would they? Why would they want to leave Muffet now? Fuhuhuhu? She’s kept Aofil, made them hers. With her eyes, her skin, her lips. First a kiss, and then…

Aofil can barely sigh. Their head is thumping at the thought. Banging hard against their temples, roaring to be released. For Aofil to scream. Screaming is against the rules though, even with the script having been abandoned. This serene, almost subdued feeling washing over them with each of their clenched breaths. All of Muffet’s eyes are upon Aofil, but they can barely open theirs. It’s so...difficult. It’s better to keep them closed now. Aofil’s too unsure what will happen if they open their eyes. What will they see? Will they even see?

Not a single word was said after Muffet’s gentle invitation. Her determination to share herself with Aofil, to wrap herself around them, surprised them. It surprised her human. A monster taking the first step towards a human. Could that be heard of? Before the Barrier, was this a common sight rather than a seldom one? Something to smile towards instead of flinching back at the confusion of the spectacle? Muffet’s taken a step further than any other monster has done. With her instigating kiss, she’s put behind the Barrier further than any monster has. The monsters sure are magical creatures, in so many ways more than one. 

Aofil’s head begins spinning again.

What’s next? What’s to come after this kiss? They wanted to talk, but they can’t right now. So many things they want to say though. So many things they can’t say to Muffet at this eon of a moment. How will they continue? How much does Aofil need to learn before they can love her back truly? Muffet as well? How much does she need to learn about loving a human? 

She does love Aofil, right?

It’s strange that a thought like that would occur right now. Like a pine cone in a fruit salad. On a glance it’s not supposed to be there, and everyone would agree with you. No one would ever lift a finger to you plucking that pine cone away.

However, it’s correct that it is there. It is a fruit. A fruit in a fruit salad. A reserved thought in a human’s mind.

And so is the doubt rushing through Aofil’s mind. The tingling from their lips isn’t enough to deafen the thought. 

Aofil doesn’t want to eat the cone though. They want their fruit salad to be like everyone else says it should be. They need it to be that way. How else are they gonna enjoy their well deserved dessert? Are they gonna bite down and cut the roof of their mouth, or are they gonna slap it away and enjoy the fruits that are sweet, yet still so, so good for them? 

“Should I come back later?”

No, no don’t leave. Stay awhile, and witness Aofil’s cocoon burst. Watch them burst out of their doubts and accept their feelings.

“Frisk?” Aofil asks into the darkness. They’re unsure where Frisk is, but they also feel that they must call out to them. Frisk has to be watching Aofil. They have to be. “Cut me down, please!”

There’s so much blood in Aofil’s head it’s about to spill out of their ears! They’re almost faint! Muffet said Frisk would be there in less than a minute when she left them strung up, but it took way longer! Aofil’s neck is about to detach in protest. It’s been tensed for so many minutes now it’s almost turned completely into stone. Right now Aofil can choose between either pain from their neck by bending it up, or from their head by letting it slump down, but the point where one is better than the other has long since passed.

“Why did Muffet string you up like this, Aofil? And where is she, by the way?”

“Can I answer that after I’ve gotten blood to the rest of my body?” Aofil tries for a fifth time to wriggle an arm out so that they can get this damn silky blindfold off their eyes. “Please?” they repeat a bit more desperately.

“Alright, just hang in there.”

Aofil’s gonna pretend they didn’t hear that.

There’s some commotion going on below their head. Above their head? The sound of legs of wood being moved screeches against the cavern wall into a symphony that cuts Aofil’s ears like a sharpened knife. They can only pathetically wriggle in response.

Must be a nearby table that Frisk is moving, and not lifting, to Aofil’s dismay. No shattering porcelain though, so at least they’re careful about it, for some strange reason. Aofil throws their shoulders back and forth to try and spin their string cocoon around to where they last heard Frisk’s voice. When they reach where they think is the correct angle, they unfortunately begin spinning the other way. Their stomach throws in the towel, but Aofil screams internally for it to keep their lunch where it belongs. They can feel every drop of liquid inside their stomach slosh around as they twist back and forth.

Please hurry, Frisk.

“What took you so long? A puppet or something?”

“I-”

Aofil is violently startled hearing Frisk speak almost inside their ear. From their reaction they reinvigorate their swinging, which sits less well with their already startled ear. It’s all speeding downhill extremely quickly now. Through the many layers of magical silk Aofil feels Frisk catch the string pendulum containing them, which at least puts a bit of a brake on their downhill rush. A slight grace that Aofil’s forever thankful for. They can not voice their thanks though, because it would expel more than just thanks all over Aofil’s striped sweater wearing savior. Frisk carefully begins tugging at Aofil’s blindfold until they can get a good grip on it.

“This might hurt.”

Yeah…

And it does.

Aofil breathes in hard through their nose and gritted teeth. Their cheeks begin burning even hotter from the friction torn away by Frisk. With a couple of hard and sharp breaths Aofil manages to get the pain under control, and they carefully blink their eyes open to assess their situation.

The surrounding pink is assaulting their eyes, but otherwise the spider cafe looks the same as before Aofil was strung up. Same decor and doilies, but with a table now directly underneath them. An upside down Frisk helps brush off some leftover strands of silk from Aofil’s eyes with the help of their purple and blue sweater. “Thanks,” Aofil says while again blinking, but now to make sure no colored yarn gets into their eyes. There’s already enough color assaulting them.

“Thank me later once I try and make sure you don’t break your neck,” Frisk’s upside down mouth informs while putting their chin down to their chest. “Do this with your chin, and then try to curl yourself up and your legs down when you begin falling.”

Aofil instead lifts their chin to see how far it is down to the table. Their hair is just shy of touching it, so it shouldn’t be too bad. If they’re lucky the landing will distract them from their upset stomach and confused inner ear. All they have to do is make a very acrobatic move while ham, arm, and tailstrung, and then they’re golden.

Maybe if they say to themselves that it’s easy it will become easy?

“You ready?” Frisk asks while reaching up on their toes. “I’ll give you a bit of a swing before I cut you loose to make it easier for you to land on your back. Ready?”

No.

“Just do it.”

With a deafening creak, Aofil’s lungs are completely expelled out of any air with a hollow gasp that stops just short of breathing out their soul. They relax their neck, and it flops down onto solid wood with an unimaginative thud. Their vision turns grainy for a second as the liters upon liters of blood in their head rushes down to the rest of their body, bringing with it enough awareness that has Aofil extremely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “You got some spare water?” they plead with their eyes closed.

“Just don’t choke on it.”

Aofil won’t make any promises they can’t keep.

Is what they say to themselves.

With gentle care, Frisk offers the neck of their half-empty water bottle to Aofil’s pouting lips. They manage a couple of careful sips before they feel their throat beginning to clamp. Frisk catches the sudden panic in Aofil’s eyes and stops their nursing. 

It’s enough for Aofil’s stomach to not threaten with immediate explosion though, so it did its job.

“Muffet won’t be angry if I use the bread knife for her own silk, right?”

Aofil needs a couple of seconds for their body to reset back to reality. “No,” they answer with difficulty. “She’s...”

Huh…

Where is she, come to think of it? Not here, that’s for certain. 

Last Aofil saw of her was her throat as she kissed them one more time after having strung them up. “I saw this in a human comic,” she explained with a bashful giggle before making the blindfold. “This will be a great part of Frisk shows, I promise. Ahuhuhu~”

With that cute laughter she could promise that the world was flat and Aofil would still believe her. Even more with her taste still lingering on their lips and tongue like crackling candy.

Although that could just be the blood rushing away from their head.

Is this gonna be an everyday occurrence with Aofil getting hung from the ceiling? Perhaps they should invest in a pocket knife if that’s the case. Or perhaps ask Muffet not to do it again.

…Maybe the latter is a better idea.

“I’ll be careful,” Frisk promises while brandishing the knife a bit too much akin to how Chara did the shard of glass when they took over to convince Aofil in that bus stop bathroom. Their head is too busy adjusting to not having a bucket of blood inside of it though at the moment, so they make no comment about it. “I’ll start from the bottom and work my way up. Don’t want to risk slipping and cutting through your throat or shoulders.”

Could’ve done without the explanation, to be perfectly honest. “Careful with the tail,” Aofil adds as Frisk bends over to being the unlicensed operation.

The tip of the knife stops at the surface of the outermost of the numerous layers of silk. Frisk’s fringe bounces gleefully as they throw up their head along with their eyebrows. “You still have that on you? Wasn’t it just for your role?”

Didn’t Aofil explain that to Frisk? Or was it to Chara? Or did they even at all? Oh well. “Yes, I still have it on.”

Frisk pushes up at the handle of their knife, angling the blade upwards to point towards Aofil. “Why?” they ask with suspicion blossoming on their face. “You also sounded a bit too concerned when asking me to be careful. Like, as if it was a leg or something.” The blade bounces as Frisk taps their thumb on its handle. “Why?”

“Again,” Aofil would lift their arms in a shrug if they could, “can I answer that after I’m cut free?”

The bouncing blade stops, and a silent beat passes between the two humans. Frisk looks at the knife for a second before shrugging, and letting go of its wooden handle. It lands standing in the silk between Aofil’s feet. “Are you trying to become a monster?”

What?

“What?”

“As in,” Frisk flicks the top of the knife’s handle causing it to bend from side to side, “for Muffet.”

“Still something that would be much easier to explain when I’m not wrapped up like I am,” Aofil retorts with a pair of brows lowered in annoyance. “Isn’t me wanting to get out of this proof enough?” Also, more importantly. “How do you know about Muffet and I?”

“Call it instinct.”

“Can I call it ‘bullshit’ instead?”

“Hit a nerve, did I?”

Not really.

Since again.

AOFIL’S STUCK INSIDE LAYERS UPON LAYERS OF SILK!

“That heartfelt moment we had wasn’t really goodbye, was it, Chara?” Aofil finally decides upon calling out. If only to pressure Frisk to spill their actual motives. “Still lingering around despite spilling your heart and soul about-”

“It’s Frisk,” Frisk interrupts with a tired sigh. “However, I’m still really curious why you want to keep your tail.” As a sign of compromise though, they pick up the knife and begin cutting away at the strings like they’re slicing through a cake.

Albeit entirely out of hardened frosting.

“And I know because of Asriel,” they add as the sweet and cool air of the pink cavern begins dancing around Aofil’s legs from the opening Frisk makes. “Well, to be honest, Chara knew because of Asriel, and by extension me, and all that.”

Frisk halts their cutting to sigh with their other hand massaging their forehead. “Can I just say that just I know from now on? Because...well...I’ll get to it.”

Aofil agrees that it would probably be a good idea if Frisk did. “As long as you begin cutting,” they offer with a silly expression in an attempt to show that they agree rather than outward telling. Get the knife metaphor away from Chara and all that.

“And with the way you control the tail through the monster part in your soul, it has me wondering.”

No? Is it? “I just flex my tailbone where I want it to move, and so it does.”

Frisk slows down as they approach Aofil’s waist. They look down at the large lizard tail for a brief moment before continuing. “Through your intentions, yeah. Funneled through your monster part and out to your possessed tail.”

Possessed? 

“Like Mettaton’s body,” Frisk answers to Aofil’s thoughtful expression. “Asriel said he helped test it due to the two of your souls’...similarities.”

So that’s how Alphys knew!

But wait…

“Yes, he’s been quite open about it lately,” Frisk again answers to the question blossoming like a spring flower on Aofil’s face. “Finally explains his troubles with magic, which was quite the relief to mom and dad. Undyne’s also glad for the news, since that means he’ll be able to get even stronger physically. We’ll see after today if she’ll and Alphys will try and concoct some magical training along our workouts.”

Aofil leans their head to the side so that Frisk can get a clean cut without it causing bleeding too. “So...” they begin as Frisk opens the cocoon up. Sweet release! Aofil sits up with their hands pressed firmly at the back of their neck for support. They carefully roll it around, but it’s like grinding two handfuls of gravel against each other. After bending the clicks and cracks out of their knees they jump down onto solid ground for the first time in forever. Their tail whips down to help absorb the impact. “Why again do you wonder about my tail?” 

Frisk throws the knife onto the white husk left behind with a stern expression taking over their face. “Because I want to know if I can be closer to my family,” they inform with a flat voice. “I want to be as much monster as I am human. All of this.” Their rigid finger spins around in the air in a dynamic circle. “All of this I want to also feel like they do. An ambassador is to be well-versed in both cultures they represent, and the one they’re representing that culture to.”

“I get your point, but don’t try and convince me you’re doing this for a job, Frisk.” Aofil’s shoulder sinks, but not because of the rather drained state of them, but because they know they’re about to get into an even bigger argument. “Didn’t we already have this talk?” They must’ve before. “With you as a human the monsters can love you even more than they can themselves. They did so with Chara, so of course they can you too. Even more so, dare I say it. Don’t think of it that way, Frisk.” Aofil pushes their opened hand against their chest. “I’m more confused about what it means to love with how I am than I ever could be.”

Frisk looks to the side while grimacing.

“You don’t have to tell me that it’s obvious,” Aofil continues. “Because it really is. Everyone in the Lab swims through my doubts with Muffet, and her too! You deserve to have a soul like mine more than I do, but you don’t want it, I promise. You...” Aofil swipes a hand over their eyes. They’re feeling it all echo inside them, and their tail comes up to embrace them as best it can. “You get confused. You wake up with fur on your arm, and you wonder what it means. Everyone tells you it doesn’t really mean anything, and it really doesn’t to you since a monster sliver could never hold a candle to a human’s soul, but still, you’re always aware that you have something uncommon with everyone. Your human friends can all throw their eyes open in surprise and compliment how soft the fur is, and your monster friends can give you tips which shampoo to use to get it that soft, but in the end you’re alone in this. If it is as it is that your soul is what conduits your emotions, then what happens when it’s changed? When suddenly you have magic when you’re not supposed to. When a monster wants to give her soul to you, but you can’t in response. If you flat out couldn’t then fine, that’s that, but if there’s a potential for you to, then you’ll just think that you’re not good enough and...”

Aofil falls down onto the table with their head in their hands as they try to catch their breath.

“It’s not what it’s made out to be,” they finally manage to punctuate in between their deep inhales. “Don’t chase this, Frisk.”

“You haven’t done anything to learn anything about it though,” Frisk shoots back with their head still turned away. “And you’re sitting here saying that my family can love me more than they could themselves, yet you’re talking about how you’re not sure that you can love Muffet enough, while also in the same breath saying that a sliver of a monster soul doesn’t do anything really except give you some fur on your arm.”

“It’s...”

“Confusing,” Frisk finishes with a fist clenching at their chest. “I. Know. Aofil. You might have that lonesome connection to the monsters, but so do I in my own way. Name another human that’s been as ingrained with monsters as me. I’m not trying to brag, I just want to get your head out of the gutter, because I need it.”

Aofil looks up underneath their raised eyebrows at Frisk leaning forward bitterly. They sigh. The only human in the world that understands this better than Aofil is calling them out. Guess they don’t have any other choice but to listen. “Alright, what is it you want?”

Frisk thanks with a quick yet rigid nod. “Your monster part coming from Asriel, you’ve kept it quiet because of him, right?”

“He asked me to.”

“And now he’s told almost everyone, so that doesn’t apply any longer. So don’t spare any more thoughts about him now, he’s over it. He’s accepted that he can’t do a lot of magic, and we’re all gonna be there for him. However, you, Aofil.”

Me, Aofil.

“You have an entire human soul at your disposal for magical energy. You can still get a pretty good stream of water through a needle’s eye if you push an entire waterfall through it. Hell, you and Asriel helped MK make his awesome armor! You and Asriel did magic! If you could just learn how do it consciously then...” Frisk snaps a finger against Aofil’s tail. “Then you could perhaps conjure your own tail to use!”

W...what? Aofil turns around, but they barely have to. Their tail comes up to meet their widened eyes and surprised breathing. They didn’t even think about it moving… “Magic?” they repeat to try and help themselves get it to sink in. “But, no? Asriel can barely do any himself, and I only have a sliver of monster, as we’ve established. It’s more like a filter so thin that water can’t even pass through it, isn’t it?”

“Your dad did some magic onto you, didn’t he? Even without a monster part inside of him.”

“That was just Chara,” Aofil replies with their teeth beginning to grit. They don’t want to think about how much their twin embellished their story. How much they leaned too much on the magical to convince Aofil to the monsters side. “I just told what Chara did to me back then. Or my imagination of Chara, or whatever it was when I fell down. It was the only explanation I had. The more I’ve thought about it though, the less and less their story feels true. I don’t think my dad knew magic. He saved me, and my soul, yes, but it wasn’t with magic. Parents have lifted entire cars to save their child stuck underneath, so pushing back a soul isn’t that big a stretch.”

Even if it really is.

“That’s still magic though, Aofil,” Frisk counters with a stern motion of their hand. They’re the teacher now, and Aofil’s the unwilling student. “Your soul is magic. Humans are part magic, and we’re both more magic than just part magic. You should have a way for you to learn how to use it with how your soul is. Maybe that is the only way for a human to know about magic? Isn’t it at least worth taking a shot at?” Frisk runs their tongue over their drying lips faster than anything Aofil’s seen before. “It would help you understand how to love Muffet better too if that’s your worry.” They throw their arms wide, with their hectic grin even wider across their thinned lips. “Your own magical tail to hug your monster soul mate properly like you want!”

Frisk is even more out of breath than what Aofil is about this. They’re sounding quite desperate about it too, which is a bit worrisome. Could instead be what Asriel meant by Frisk being more worthy though. If anything Frisk is determined, and few things can put up a barrier against that mindset of theirs. It sounds like they’ve actually done some research on this too. Probably pestered Alphys about it. Hopefully not too much. Frisk would know Alphys’ boundaries though, but if they’re trying to push beyond their own…

“I have a birthday wish from you, Aofil.” Frisk puts their hand on their chest, clasping it hard. Aofil’s eyes open up and their breath mellows out through a sharp inhale through their nose. “I’m sorry that I’m not giving you a lot of time to consider it, but truth be told, I only found out about it recently.”

Aofil leans forward to stop them. “Frisk don’t,” they beg, but Frisk only turns around so that their action is protected by their striped back. Aofil can’t reach around it.

“Please...” Frisk pleads while shaking their head weakly. “It hurts enough doing it. I want to. I need to show you.”

“S-show me what?”

Wait…

‘We’re both more magic than just part magic.’

No…

“Chara has embraced their monster side.”

The pink cavern drowns in a rugged crimson. A pained gasp echoes between the many tables and crevices. Frisk’s entire being flinches before slumping over. They breathe in deeply, and force their back straight up again.

Aofil...can’t believe it.

“Why? How?”

“Can you embrace yours so that I can learn to embrace mine too?”

With a shaky arm, Frisk presents their red soul.

And the white, twisted core inside of it.

Aofil swallows as their tail cowers behind them. “Is that...” Their stomach turns as questions fill their head faster than they can keep up. C-Chara? Without color? Without being red?

“It is Chara. What they left behind,” Frisk answers as they breathe painfully. “They’ve made their choice to become this for me.”

No. “How?” Aofil’s startled voice crashes against the walls, transforming their scared shout into a panicked howl. “How did they? Why did they?”

Frisk’s arm turns weak, and they stumble forwards as their soul lunges back inside of them. Shadows consume their limp expression as their long fringe hangs over their bent head like a willow.

They begin weeping just like one.

Aofil eases the sobbing human into a nearby chair. Their tail grabs one for themselves, and they sit down on it without as much as a thought. They realize it a second after. “Intention,” they whisper before shaking it off. That’s for later.

A couple of more stabilizing breaths flow through the decorated spider cafe before Frisk slowly brushes their fringe away from their face. “The crystal you gave to Chara,” they force out of them between coughs.

The one they asked for so that they could see and feel like themselves.

Feel…

“I think I understand,” Aofil says.

“They and Asriel were once one, and with you imprinting yourself on the crystal, and also Asriel by proxy, Chara could give up the last of their humanity. When they died they weren’t a human, or a monster. They were fused with Asriel, and that’s how they latched onto me. Another receptor that was similar enough to theirs. A virus, but I don’t like calling them that.”

Aofil won’t say anything to that.

“They’re gone now, but they left behind the monster that they were when fused. They said their goodbye to you, the only human they cared about, and then...” Frisk finally collapses once they’ve finished explaining. “Gone for good.” They clutch at their chest, but more so in an embrace rather than a grip.

“Guess that explains why you felt like you had influenza, and why you were so cranky after you woke up in Waterfall. Didn’t have the same emotions after Chara...made their choice?”

They scoff a few tears.

“You’re gonna miss them.”

Frisk nods. “I will.”

Aofil reaches over with their arm to comfort Frisk, but they halt it midway. They angle their forearm upwards, and glance down to Frisk’s arms covered by their sweater. Not now though, later. Right now Aofil needs to be an adult to this young one. They hug Frisk’s shoulders, and the kid leans their heads on Aofil’s as they sob it out. An adult in number only, to Aofil Frisk is still a child. “It was Chara’s choice,” they remind as they pat the striped shoulder. “I’m sure they were happy that they could make it, and more so that they did it for you, Frisk.”

A sharp sniffle is all they get as an answer, but it is enough. 

“They’ll still protect you though, Frisk.” Aofil nods to try and convince themselves of their own words. To their surprise, it’s quite effective. “But don’t take it as a cue to seek out situations where you’ll need their protection. Although, to be honest, it’s more that those situations find you rather than the opposite.”

“Don’t tell dad what he did.”

“Of course not.”

There’s something nibbling at the back of Aofil’s head though. More chomping away rather than nibbling, actually. They lower their head in shame as they can’t seem to shake it off. 

“Are you sure they’re gone...for good?” The last words trail out of Aofil’s mouth like drops out of an almost-closed tap. “You’ve said that you couldn’t feel them before.”

Frisk clutches their hands at their jeans. “This is different.”

Of course it’s different. It’s always different, but will it stay different?

“I feel like I have less emotion inside of me. It feels a bit...grayer. Again, like I’m sick or tired. In a way I hope it stays like this so that I don’t forget about Chara.”

“It’s your life Chara’s been hanging onto, Frisk,” Aofil again reminds. They have to, it’s the adult thing to do. “They said so to me, and if they’d had the chance they’d said so to you as well. I think they’re fine with fading away now. It hurt them when they were in control of you, yet at the same time they felt like they had to be there for you. See this as them accepting that you’ve grown up, and that you’ve come further than what they did. It was only fair that they decided to leave you in the Underground. It’s where their own life was, after all.”

The cry exploding from Frisk is filled with sorrow. The tears flying of their shaking head crash against the hard rock around them. Their grip on Aofil’s clothes is just as rigid.

“It hurts without them!”

“A years old plaster has been ripped off you, Frisk,” Aofil reminds for a third time. “It’ll fade away with time.”

“I...

“Chara knew you more than anyone else, and if they thought it was time for you to live your own life without them, then they did so knowing you’d want that too.”

“I didn’t want them gone!”

“But they wanted themselves gone.” Aofil lifts up Frisk’s face to theirs, to the one Chara would wear. They can speak as if it was Chara now, and that’s what Frisk needs. “Because you were Chara’s world to them, Frisk. They loved you in a way not even the two of us as twins could. They made their decision though. Chara didn’t leave you, they set you free. That’s how they’d wanted you to see it. You can stay determined even without them, that Chara knew.”

The lips on the yellow face again quiver, and the darkened trails of the tears bend as their cheeks tense. Frisk buries their head into Aofil’s chest, and cough one last, violent sob.

Aofil puts their hand on top of Frisk’s head as they breathe out. Fluffbun, that was intensive. There aren’t enough anime series in the world to binge that will significantly lower the amount adult points they just earned. The closest thing to a human parent, that’s what they say Aofil is to Frisk, and here’s the proof.

Aofil’s not ready for kids though. Not if this is gonna be a daily thing. Or a weekly. Or monthly. Or yearly.

“Singe my damn soul...” they sigh into the air.

And to imagine that Aofil felt it was difficult being inside a string cocoon just a few minutes ago.

Frisk seems to be calming down though, and…

Hold on, what are these bumps on Frisk’s head?

Frisk drags a harsh gasp, and they push away from Aofil to sit up on their own. With their sweater’s arms they dry off their eyes. “You’re right,” they say through a rugged sigh. “I’ll remember Chara by living as they wanted me to. It’s what they deserve.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Also.” They bite down while rolling up their sleeves. Their arms are just as yellow as their face though. No fur or anything. Frisk directs Aofil’s attention up to their head. They lightly tap inside their hair. “Here.”

Aofil runs a timid finger where Frisk’s pointing. They don’t feel anything to begin with, but as they continue exploring they-

“Ow!” Frisk recoils back in pain, leaving Aofil’s hand hovering in disbelief.

“Hor...” They try to swallow away their confusion, but they merely only swallow away their acceptance. They know the same pain. They felt it before, albeit more explosive and instant. Still, Frisk now has…

Nope, still can’t say it.

“Do they hurt?” Aofil manages to say despite knowing fully well that they do.

“I’m gonna have to ask Asriel how he dealt with it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Frisk replies as they gently tap at their head to explore how it feels. “But yeah, I felt them when I pretended to scratch my head at a puzzle at the CORE. Pain hit me like a truck and I, well, puked from it. It’s calmed down a bit though, but it’s still sore.”

At least Aofil was in the right that the pain was in the category of growth spurts. Doesn’t seem to be fast enough for the horns to just pop out of Frisk’s skull and left hanging by magic though.

That’d be silly.

Still, Aofil’s a bit worried about if and how much Frisk’s horns are gonna pierce out through their skin. Aofil was lucky in comparison with just some fur now that they can compare to Frisk. Gonna be some splitting headaches for them.

Quite literally.

“You should tell your parents as soon as possible,” Aofil suggests while running their hand over their chin. “Have some gauze at your nightstand to contain the bleeding. It’s-” It’s… No. No. It’s too much. Aofil just...stops. They need to lean back in their chair and let their mind come to terms with giving medical advice to a human about to grow horns out of their skull. Perhaps if they changed the subject a bit to help them ease into it? “Who do you think your horns are gonna resemble the most?”

Their tongue flops out of their mouth as it’s clearly not needed anymore now that Aofil’s said something that’s never been said, or will never be said again. They slurp it back in though just in case they have to talk again in the distant future.

Frisk’s rapid and confused blinking distracts them from their headache. “I...I think Asriel, but perhaps like how he had when he was smaller? I’m judging it by you only having fur on your arm.”

That’s a fair assessment...or something? Not really a lot of samples to extract it from. Aofil nods. “I see.”

Well, not now, but soon? 

“How long did it take your fur to fully grow?” Frisk asks timidly with a finger pointing against Aofil’s growth. “I’m a bit nervous. It’s already hurting.”

That’s understandable. “Took me a week or so.” Aofil looks down at their arm. “Maybe ask Toriel for some medicine? Some effervescent tablets, perhaps? I don’t know if that’ll help though.” They slap their fur back and forth. “It didn’t really hurt me, but yours are, so I can’t help you there, I’m afraid. I think you should see a doctor. Make sure the horns grow out cleanly and septic.”

Frisk nods, albeit carefully now that their head is sore. “Thanks. I’ll talk to mom and dad about it.”

“What are you gonna tell them?” Aofil folds their arms without thinking, but they feel that it’s necessary now. Their tail begins tapping behind them. How to explain this to Toriel and Asgore without mentioning Chara?

A slobbery glob lands on Aofil’s shoulder, but they brush it off. “Not now, Muffin,” they chastise without looking back. They didn’t even know Muffet brought him with her, but he’s arrived at the worst time now. Although, when did Muffin become tall enough to breathe on top of Aofil’s head?

Another glob lands in their head, and flops down before their eyes, and landing with a splat on the floor between their feet. Viscous strings of white and black curl in and around each other, moving as if oil and water, yet still stuck together as if magnetically bound.

Like a door slowly opened by an ant, Aofil angles their head up to Frisk with eyes unblinking. “That’s not Muffin.”

Frisk shakes their head.

“It’s an Amalgamate.”

Frisk nods.

“The dog one?”

“Endogeny, yes.”

“And why is it here?”

It’s a good thing Aofil slurped back their tongue, because there’s really not anything else they’d want now that for Frisk to explain why an Amalgamate is here.

Does explain why it took Frisk so long to reach here though.

“I really couldn’t figure out another way to explain to mom and dad about my soul without mentioning Chara.”

Oh Frisk is quite rude putting Aofil in this dilemma right now.

“It won’t hurt.”

Aofil does not like that Frisk is opening up their explanation with that.

Not.

One.

Bit!

They cross their arms harder to prevent them from doing something.

“The story will be that Endogeny came to congratulate me on my birthday, but it did so a bit too intensively.”

A large shadow begins growing above Aofil. They do the mistake of looking up, and they get a large white tongue licking their face from a black void. A small white tail materializes, waving excitingly. 

“I so much wish I could handle the fine to breaking the rule not to scream,” Aofil says with difficulty through their pushed-together lips.

“And by that I mean that it also embraced you a bit too much as well,” Frisk continues as the amalgamate begins curling itself over them too. “Our souls began resonating with each other, and I got a monster part added to my soul.”

“Added?” 

Endogeny is now enveloping the two humans completely.

“It’s important that we say that it was added.” Frisk lifts up their hand to pet a black dog’s head forming over their shoulder. “I can spin it as something positive then.”

“Another birthday present?”

“Yeah.”

A white dog’s head pops underneath Aofil’s arm, and they give it a scratch behind its ear. They’ve dealt with amalgamates before during some parent-teacher meetings, so it’s not that they’re uncomfortable.

This though? Being swallowed by one?

That’s uncomfortable.

“Please?”

The white dog head retreats as Aofil looks over to Frisk. “Just enough to stain our clothes?”

“Yes.” Frisk raises a hand that they grab into Endogeny with. “Ready?”

No.

“Just do it.”


	168. Between a black and a white dog

“Frisk?”

Aofil didn’t even use their mouth to ask into the blackened void around them. This warm gelatinous environment that’s almost massaging them doesn’t allow them to open their mouth without risking to swallow something they’d rather not. They find no difficulty breathing though, nor any trouble to project their voice as far as they can hear it. In fact, they’re now hearing their question from behind them. Have they moved? No, they’ve been standing still. Perhaps everything around them moved instead? It’s difficult to tell. The magical fur around Aofil manifests more as a thought rather than anything to be touched at, yet it’s still enough to make their nose itch. However, sneeze they cannot, since there wasn’t anything to make them sneeze in the first place.

Oh boy, it’s gonna be like that, isn’t it? A perpetual itch that can’t be scratched, because there is none to be scratched, yet the concept is still there. Only the inverse is real, and with nothing for it to be the inverse of. The white strands and shapes of dogs pulsating around Aofil are only the negative of black, and not white itself. Vice versa for the black shadows whirling inside while still outside the white dogs. Forming and collapsing as if the colors were synonymous. It’s not true, it’s just the negative of false. Aofil’s nose isn’t itching, it’s just not being not itching. 

Yet they still want to sneeze so badly!

Aaaargh! It feels so stuffed and swollen!

The wavy surrounding doesn’t seem to be collapsing anytime soon though, which is a good thing. Or maybe not, Aofil’s not sure. Either way, they should find Frisk as soon as possible. Get out of here before Aofil becomes calm enough to become curious about this strange world. They’ve already been absorbed into it, no need to be absorbed while inside it too.

“Frisk!” Aofil calls out again by screaming not inwards. “I feel that we’ve done enough now. How do we get out?”

A large dog pushes its affectionate head underneath Aofil’s arm while bumping against their other side. Instinctively, Aofil reaches down to pet it, and it circles its hollow head around so that Aofil can scratch at its chin. Its exciting tongue extends and licks their arm, but the drooling sensation happens on the patch of fur on Aofil’s other arm. The uncomfortable inconsistency has them shuddering, and the dog licks again to help comfort. 

The friction from the tongue on one arm, and the drool slobbering on their other.

Could it not, please?

No wonder Alphys wanted to grow hair on her head so that she could tear it out when she began her quantum mechanics course. This here seems to be the magical equivalent of it. Granted, Aofil is just as unfamiliar with quantum mechanics as they are with what they’ve found themselves inside now, but that just adds credence to their comparison, if anything.

...Oh!

So that’s why Alphys was so interested in the subject! She’s studying to find a human solution to the monster problem! Oh man, Aofil had never thought about it like that before. Perhaps she can finally wash away this last sin from her scientific record and move forward with her research. Maybe if Aofil tells her about this then she’ll feel comfortable enough to teach them magic.

...Or something…

Ahem.

Wow, what Frisk said before really stuck with Aofil, didn’t it? Growing a magical tail doesn’t sound so bad, but perhaps that could just be Aofil’s confusion talking. Quite a lot of that going on inside Endogeny right now.

“Maybe. Or maybe not?”

Aofil hushes their confusion talking beside them. “I didn’t mean it literally,” they explain to the void perception of themselves standing in half a shrug. “That I’m absolutely sure of.”

The perception fades away, replaced almost immediately by the morphing faces of a canine coming up to Aofil to beg for scratches.

“Do you know where Frisk is?” they ask to the dog who sprouts another head that bumps its muzzle jealously at Aofil’s free hand. Black in one hand, and white in the other, but both acting as colorful as the other when scratched behind the slimy, yet still furry, ears. Their combined panting echoes against the nothing around. “If you find them, could you bring them here?”

The heads don’t disappear, since they never existed to begin with.

Aofil groans as they shake their heavy head. It’s getting a bit tiresome with this, to be honest. Amalgamates from the outside are fine when acting with. Aofil’s found that treating them like just another monster works for the best. Especially when said monster is attending for its child at the parent-teacher meetings. Snowdrake’s mom is Snowdrake’s mom, for an example. That’s how it piqued with some sense of emotion when called, so that’s what it is now. Better for the family too.

All of this...probability, going around Aofil is not really noticeable when they’re not swallowed whole by it. They just file it under magic stuff happening and continue on with the parent-teacher meeting and Snowdrake’s rather odd habit of answering every question as a snow pun. Just gotta use the same plastic cover around and on their desk as when the slime or moldsmal parents come in, and continue on from there.

Less attempt at impersonation from the amalgamates in comparison to the slimes and moldsmals too, or imparentation, in this case.

Aofil throws the contour of a black bone with whirling white fibers within for an excited white contoured dog with black fibrous fur popping out of the amalgamate field to fetch. When or how the bone appeared in their hand they don’t know, but it’s out of their hand now, so they think no more about it. The bone lands with a bounce that’s almost digital. Not a smooth arc, but rather a step-by-step movement, as if jumping from one moment in time to another without being continuous in between. The dog catches it in its own continuous time though, but when it interacts with the bone, its mouth takes on the property of the bone’s movement while the rest of its body continues continuous like before.

It’s a good thing Aofil’s familiar with Temmies otherwise they’d scream in terror for no one to hear, not even themselves. They still feel a bit of a headache coming along as their brain tries to process and deduce some logical explanation to it. Unfortunately, Aofil doesn’t have three empty blackboards and a handful of years studying quantum mechanics under their non-existent belt, so their one gear just churns on the clutch inside their skull.

While breathing deep in through their nose, and getting a lot more air than they imagined they’d get, Aofil runs their fingers against their temples. It’s like spinning a bunch of nails on their head though, and it does more hurt than good. Silver lining though, ignoring the gray ones momentarily created in the amalgamate field when two playful dogs slam into each other, is that Aofil’s own body seems to be acting normally. For whatever soul and magic thing happening right now, at least Aofil has their own self cemented. A single safe harbor of normal logic inside a vicious storm sweeping large waves of probability against the unprepared supports. Despite everything, Aofil is still real, to their enormous joy.

There’s a strange feeling when they cross their arms though, so perhaps their clothes didn’t receive the same treatment. It’s magical clothing, after all, so it’s not a surprise that it’s affected by the amalgamate. Maybe they’ll spot a floating imploding dog trying to wrestle its head into the sleeve if they’re lucky. It is a bit of an inconvenience though, especially since their itch seems to be spreading all over Aofil’s body. Like when they tested out a new shampoo on their patch of fur, but spread out all over! Aofil itches back with their finger, but it’s to no avail. They run their arm over their nose as they huff.

Oh. Oh. Oh!

There it is! There it is!

Yes!

There’s the sneeze coming along and...

“Atchoo!”

Oh, bless.

“Bless you.”

Aofil nods with gratitude. “Than-”

No. 

“Before you go about now.”

No no no no no no no.

“Please calm down and breathe out.”

Aofil refuses.

“I’m just a memory.”

Nope. “Nope.”

“I’m not real.”

That goes without explanation, because Aofil don’t want to hear none. So... “Still nope.”

“I’m just Frisk’s soul resonating with Endogeny.”

Well ain’t that absolutely fantastic. But… “Still, yet stiller.”

Chara pushes both their hands against their face. “Can I-”

“You’re gone.”

“Yes, I am,” Chara answers with a vexed sigh as they push their fingers hard against the sides of their head. “But again, like I just said,” they angrily sing. “I’m. Not. Me.”

So why are you so damn upset about it then? And also, no, actually. Chara’s not them. 

…

Why aren’t they? 

Aofil shoots over two fingers towards Chara, because one isn’t enough for this situation. “And why are you a Boss Monster?”

With an almost condescending nod, Chara directs Aofil’s attention over to their fingers. “Ask that to yourself to begin with.”

It takes less than a second for it to connect with Aofil. They don’t even have to shift their eyes over to their furred fingers. They wouldn’t even see them even if they tried.

Due to the large, pale Boss Monster muzzle wrinkled in slight disgust covering the lower half of their vision.

“Oh for...” they sigh out. Halfway through it turns into an exasperated bleat, which only drags it out even more tiredly. A small school of curious dog heads peek up between Aofil’s large paws, but they quickly disappear after Aofil sends them a shadowy look from beneath their hardened brow. “I shouldn’t really be surprised, all things considered, because apparently all of the things are considered here.” They throw up their arms. “How come its always gonna be a Boss Monster? Why can’t I be some other type? Yes I know Asriel’s one and he’s my catalyst and all that, but you know...”

“...Do you want to be another kind of monster?”

“You know fully well that’s not what I mean, who or whatever you are.” Aofil’s wrists slam against their horns as they let them fall bitterly, causing their neck to snap back and their face to point upwards. They blow their lips as they slowly tilt their neck forward again. “I’m just tired about being covered in fur and having this large muzzle in the way, that’s all. Dressing up I’m fine with, because then I know I can take it off easily.”

“So what do you want?” Chara pries. “Scales like Undyne? Bones like Papyrus? Spikes like MK? Mix and match perhaps?”

“Am I allowed as a human to feel uncomfortable about being turned into a monster behind my back?” The rather snobby tone from Chara was completely unnecessary. Aofil’s been a Boss Monster often enough to be sick of it. Enough stamps on their ‘Transformed Against Their Will’ card to get out of one free. “Please?”

“Yes.” Chara nods as a sign of goodwill. “Well you know why you’re like this,” they relay while twirling a floppy, light-beige ear hanging down their cheek. “So that’s a start. It should also give you a pretty good clue as to what I am.”

“Besides a manifestation of what Frisk cried on my shoulder about just a few minutes ago,” Aofil answers without even thinking. “Or however time works in here.” They straighten their back, and as they do, they gain a striped sweater on their torso woven through glimmering magic. They pluck at its collar like they would a stain with the claws on their fingers and with the same annoyed expression stretching their face into a thin and neutral smile. “Yellow and purple?” Their collar returns to their neck with a soft flop as they flick open their grip from it. “Well at least I’m visible against this monochrome environment.”

Their pants are a more reserved pair of jeans with the bottoms folded up once. Why the extra energy having been spent on fashion, Aofil has no clue about.

“You’re saying it like it’s my fault.” Chara crosses their arms as they lean an elbow against the blackened void. A gradient of white spreads out from the pressure, fading in intensity outwards. “But anyways, here I am. Or, more specifically,” they correct with a dynamically raised finger that they bend down to the unamused Boss Monster standing opposite them,” here you are.”

“Where’s the exit, please?”

Maybe Aofil will be lucky?

“There is no exit.”

Of course there isn’t.

“Well, none that you or Frisk know of.”

Fluffbun with all these damn riddles and convoluted manner of speech and not being just straight to the point when Aofil’s inside a damn amalgamate talking to Chara while the two are Boss Monsters so why can’t they just get a clear answer for once they’ve earned that much at least if not at the very least for everyone to hear except they can’t be heard since again they’re inside Endogeny and again they’d really like to get out of Endogeny and to do that they need to know where and how the exit works!

Please!

Aofil’s eyes shoot glaring swords over their beige muzzle towards Chara, who puts up their hands in defense. “The closest explanation is that your and Frisk’s soul are resonating with Endogeny. Through your monster part, yadda yadda, you know how it is.” 

“So am I speaking to Frisk’s soul now?” Aofil pries further with an inquisitive gesture.

“Yes, you’re speaking with Frisk.”

“So am I speaking to Frisk’s soul now?” Aofil pries even further with a further inquisitive gesture. “Would you be so kind as to help me make the distinction so when I eventually meet Frisk again there won’t be any confusion as to whom I’m speaking to?”

“Yes,” Chara reluctantly answers. “Golly, you’re no fun.”

“I. Am. Inside. An. Amalgamate!” Aofil reminds while slamming their fist into their opened palm with each syllable. It’s not as impactful as they wanted it to be due to the soft fur absorbing the impact, but it will have to do.

“Alright, alright.”

“Thank you.” Aofil throws their hand up in the air in celebration, their fingers exploding like stars from a firework. “And that’s why you’re a Boss Monster because Frisk really wants to be one, and I’m a Boss Monster, because really deep down I’m actually one?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“No. I meant it as an actual answer.”

“Well then let us wait for the answer,” Chara suggests as they idly scan around for a couple of seconds to see if anything might change about Aofil. While the surrounding instantaneous dogs come and go with varying sizes and state of ecstatic, the two humans remain Boss Monsters. A single safe harbor in the most violent of storms, and with Aofil complaining about the rain on it. “Can’t lie yourself out of this one.”

“Pretty sure Frisk’s soul is fully capable of lying too,” Aofil counters with their brow tucked down in increasing annoyance. “Since it is them, as their soul claims very loud and clear which is very strange and uncomfortable.”

Still no change happening while Chara sharpens their claws together while whistling.

“And shouldn’t I of all people, or souls, know who I’m really desiring. Resonate all you want, Frisk’s soul, but I know what I want.”

A gentle wave of fingers wash up on Aofil’s shoulder. And their other. And around their stomach. And around their waist. “Of course you do,” Muffet’s voice whispers underneath their ear before running her cheek down Aofil’s furred neck. Their ear hooks into one of her pig-tails for a moment before falling off and slapping against their cheek. “Fuhuhuhuhu~” she giggles while burrowing her head deeper into their shoulder and neck. “It tickles.”

Even through their sweater they can feel that Muffet isn’t wearing anything. Rather apt name for Aofil’s apparel considering what begins to thickly form on their forehead.

“Could you focus, please?” Chara asks with their ears folded over their eyes. Their eyebrows pop out from underneath with pleading speed. “You’re doing this for Frisk, remember?”

Muffet bids her painfully short visit farewell with a kiss on Aofil’s cheek. “I’ll see you on the outside then, human.”

No, don’t…

Already gone. Not a trace of her.

“Dammit,” Aofil curses through their lips clenched in discontent. They shake their head at the restless whirls of black and white behind them, and reluctantly turn their head back to Chara, who releases their ears as if playing peek-a-boo.

“I have a bit of a proposition.”

“You or Frisk?”

“Yes.”

Dammit.

“See it as a bit of an extension to Frisk’s birthday wish,” Chara begins proposing while spooling up their arms to help explain. “As you may be aware of, and as your soul is aware of, because it was actually the one bringing it up in the first place and-”

“Stop.” Aofil’s putting their foot down. It’s very slimy and it feels like they’ve missed the top step of a staircase, but they’re still doing it. “My soul?”

“Yes,” Chara answers with a nod. “Your soul. See, I’m helping you with the distinction.”

That actually brings up a very good question. “So if my soul is...somewhere. It’s...not here...where I am.”

“It’s with Frisk,” Chara informs. 

Good, then it’s in good care.

“So if my soul is with Frisk, and Frisk’s soul is with me, then what are Frisk and I?”

“Your souls.”

It’s just so draining. Like opening a bottle of soda only to realize that the bottom’s fallen out, and Aofil really wanted that soda.

“If Frisk would’ve known what the hell is going on then I would’ve known, and if you would’ve known what the hell is going on then Asriel would’ve known and-”

Hold up!

“Asriel?”

“It’s not...”

“No,” Aofil agrees after giving it a second’s thought. “No, it’s not really that surprising.”

“So, continuing on.”

“No,” Aofil interrupts again with their palm pushed forward. “Just one more thing.” They let the clenched rolling of Chara’s eyes brush past them, because they have to get a satisfactory answer out of this. “Where are our bodies?” And more importantly. “How are our bodies?”

“Your bodies...”

“Don’t you dare trail off!” Aofil spits harshly. They can feel their hastily furrowed brow tug at the base of their horns. “I’m not being coy about this, alright? Answer me.”

“Your bodies are safe,” Chara says while timidly lifting up their palms. “It’s a bit difficult explaining it, so if I could just have a few seconds, please,” they ask rather calmly.

“Yes.” Aofil offers an apology with their hand. “Sorry, but you understand why I’m a bit worried, right?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here, nor would Asriel...your soul…” Chara corrects with some quick nods, “have managed to find Frisk. Frisk and you are alive, both your souls and bodies, but Endogeny has kinda separated the two of you. Not physically,” Chara’s quick to add. “Think of it more as the two of you sharing a dream together?”

The uncertainty spilling out of Chara’s muzzle is more unclear than Endogeny itself.

“Again, I can only say what Frisk knows, like how Asriel can only say what you know.”

“So we’re still in Endogeny. Our bodies, that is.” Aofil looks around again, this time trying to discern any, if all, shapes that might resemble a human. It’s quite hard to look past the myriad of canine faces eagerly hoping that Aofil’s observing their environment to find the best head to pat. Like a swelling tide, the many smiling black faces and outstretched white tongues follow Aofil’s head movement. “And if, let’s say, Muffet, were to pull the two of us out we’d still be fine? No need to do those safe removal routines you had to do with the old computers?”

“You’d probably forget what happened in here,” Chara hazards after some thinking with their claws tapping on their elongated chin. “Since me and Asriel would be pretty much awakened in the middle of the night with the kitchen on fire, so to speak.”

“And the two of you know where the fire extinguishers are located, right?” Aofil appends while leaning forward.

“We both keep them next to the bed since it is a bit of too common an occurrence.” The last words flow out of Chara’s mouth riddled with poison and spite. Aofil can’t really refute that, since one time was one time too much, and even with the added knuckles afforded to them by their claws, Aofil doesn’t have enough fingers to count the amount of times Frisk and them have poured water on their souls’ grease fires.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Aofil extends with a gentle bow of their head. They almost bite at their ears flopping down the length of their bent-down muzzle. “Sorry for us being quite noisy vessels for the two of you to inhabit.”

“Just make sure to say that to your own soul too.” Chara lights up and snaps their fingers. “Actually, why don’t we go meet Frisk and your soul right now? You’re up for the proposition, right?”

Not really? Aofil didn’t agree to anything. Did Chara even get to that point, or were they interrupted by Aofil too much? “What was it again?”

Chara motions for the wooden door that wasn’t there a moment ago as if it was always there. “At this point it’s probably better if I explain it on location.”

Location? “What location?”

Chara waves their arm around in a dramatic circle only for their hand to return to pointing at the door. They shoot over a thinned smile and raised pair of eyebrows, hoping Aofil gets the point without any further words to be spoken.

Yes, yes, Aofil gets the point alright. They pet a whining dog’s head underneath their arm. “I’ll give you a treat once I’m outside,” they promise with a final scratch behind the unstable ear shifting from white to black at Aofil’s touch. It slurps back into the field with a ghastly moan.

“Just make sure to remember that promise even if you’re unsafely removed from Endogeny.”

“Why that’s up to you now, isn’t it?” Aofil counters as they turn the rounded handle on the door.

“I guess so,” Chara acknowledges as they follow Aofil inside the door.


	169. Siblings at soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Many thanks to the wonderful BlackRazorBill for reprising their old fanart for this chapter!](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/)

“Have I been here before?”

Aofil and Chara walking along together inside a shapeless void from something neither could explain fully towards a place that’s somewhere far in the infinite darkness stretching before, below, above, and behind them both.

Oh yeah!

Wow… Coming full circle now, isn’t it? Out of the near-death experience into the amalgamate.

Aofil knows they shouldn’t indulge that memory, but there is some sibling emotions starting to bubble inside them now as it begins resurfacing. Could be their Asriel part, actually, if they’re looking for an excuse to explain away the feeling.

It is just Frisk’s soul in the shape of Chara, but so was Chara only Aofil’s soul back then, yet it feels just the same to Aofil. Even with the two being Boss Monsters now. The old Chara would be ecstatic with being able to grip their long ears, but perhaps this current one got that out of their system before they came looking for Aofil. Perhaps then too it was Frisk’s soul back then, or perhaps it is Aofil’s soul now too. 

Perhaps, perhaps, indeed. 

Aofil looks down at Chara walking at their side with both hands tucked inside their brown jeans. How strange it is that they feel more connected now than they did talking to the actual Chara. Maybe it’s just as simple as it being Chara talking with Chara’s mouth rather than Frisk’s. Even if it is a Boss Monster’s shape to Chara’s mouth, it’s still theirs. Visuals do a lot to help, even if they’re rather fuzzy.

Literally.

And especially now with there not existing any other visuals at all for Aofil to rest their eyes on.

“If you’re wondering about my horns then no, Frisk’s are not gonna have the same shape,” Chara informs with a couple of taps with their claw against one of their head’s protrusions. “Might be closer to what you have now, but most likely they’re gonna look like Asriel’s, albeit more reserved.”

“So what I have are more my own flavor rather than Asriel’s?” Aofil flicks their own ones with a curious claw. They didn’t bother doing it before. It unfamiliar having a pair of levers on their head. Sharp ones too. 

Aofil wonders if that means anything. Toriel’s aren’t really that sharp, nor are Chara’s now. Asgore and Asriel has sharpened ends, but Asriel more so than his father.

They hum in thought.

“The color of your fur I’d thought would be enough of a hint to that,” snarks Chara with a slight scoff. “I know you have quite pale skin, but you’d have to lack any form of melanin to even get close to how snow-colored my family is.”

My family…

Aofil shakes that off. “So there are rules to this?” they pry further to move the subject along. “A chart, perhaps?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, no.” Chara rolls their ankle while grimacing a bit. “And I think you’d be happy to hear that this transformation hasn’t occurred enough for a chart to have been made.”

Chara’s got a point there. 

And apparently some hurt in their ankle too.

Aofil taps their shoulder as an invitation. “You wanna sit on my shoulders again?”

As if tugged on their collar, Chara stops mid-step. “Again?” they return quizzically with an upwards tilt of their head. They blow away some of their elongated fringe out of their eyes. “Have I done that before? When we were kids?”

“Not really,” answers Aofil while tapping their chest. “It was when I fell. You remember that? I mean, Frisk remembers that, right?” they correct.

“I remember having to put out two kitchen fires, yes.” Chara smacks their lips. “And that just after a reset too and having to fight Asriel again and...”

For being a soul Chara sure is human in their dramatic exhale. Aofil can’t help a slight giggle forming, but they cover it up with the back of their furry hand, being careful not to inhale any of it and coughing up a hair ball later.

“I can carry you on my shoulders as thanks for saving my bacon from being burnt. I know that Frisk enjoyed it when I gave them a ride back in the years. When I took them to that football practice, remember?”

“Not the fondest of memories, that football practice.” Chara reminisces for a couple of seconds before their muzzle begins wrinkling in slight hate and disgust. “And you did that only on the way back, and you only did that to get some free pie from mom.”

Well… “Yes, I did,” Aofil admits with a tilt to their head, although they don’t really see what’s wrong with it, “but they still enjoyed the ride. I think I was the first human to ever give them a ride like that.” Aofil squats down on one knee to get face to face with Chara. “Was I?”

“...Yes.” Chara blows their lips while scratching their furry cheek with one of their claws. “Yes, you were.” They let their gaze stretch as far as possible for a brief moment before giving up with a shrug. “And if you insist,” they say in a vague attempt to make it their own idea. “Don’t know how much longer we have to go, honestly. Might be a bit. You sure you can carry me? You’re not human any longer. Less strength and all that.”

“...And neither are you,” Aofil reminds. “And also, we’re inside an amalgamate,” they also remind. “Rules need not apply, not any of them.”

“Just...wanted to make sure.” Chara clears their throat a bit too loudly than they intended too. They look down with their muzzle hanging like a bib over the top yellow stripe of their sweater. “That’s all.”

No wonder Frisk is still a child at heart if they have this Chara as part of their soul. It’s been years since Aofil last saw a kid rock back and forth on their feet with their hands clamped behind their back. Hair, fur, and most importantly, ears, flowing rhythmically with each blushed swing of their goat-like body. 

“Come on,” Aofil offers with a hearty chuckle while leaning forward so that Chara can easier climb up, “hop on.” Their steps leave white and blurred circles in the black, texture-less ground as they round Aofil’s back, which fade away as if the steps are evaporating drops of water on a hot summer’s day in direct sunlight. Aofil looks behind them to make sure tha-

“Watch the horns!” Chara shouts with their neck craned backwards to dodge away from the sweeping, curved daggers turning on the back of Aofil’s skull. “Almost gouged an eye out! Jeez. You’re more clumsily with your horns than you are with your fork when mom serves snails.”

“Sorry,” Aofil offers as they look forward again. “I was just curious iiiiiiiifffff!” They flail their arms and shove their weight forward to compensate for Chara using their horns as leverage to hoist up on the furred shoulders which will act as their seat. They have weight to them, but they don’t feel heavy to Aofil. The pressure on the rising shoulders is there, but it doesn’t bother Aofil. Chara’s sweater chaffing against the inner side of Aofil’s horns is a bit bothersome though, as well as the jeans knees tucked underneath their long and floppy ears.

Quite different from before, that’s for a certain.

Aofil grips Chara’s shins and stands up carefully so that they keep their balance. “You sitting well?” they ask while angling their head up. 

“I’ll fall off if you keep doing that,” Chara replies while pushing down on Aofil’s head to keep their balance.

“Alright,” Aofil sings with renewed vigor. Their spirit has been lifted, they feel. Now… Um... “Which way?”

“That way.”

Aofil strains their eyelids and eyebrows in an attempt to push them further in so that they can see which yonder Chara’s pointing at over their head. They give their head a slight shake so that their outgrown fringe gives clearance, but Chara puts a stop to that before they’re stabbed in the chest by Aofil’s horns. “This way?” Aofil hazards then with an extended finger released from their grip around one of the jeans legs over their chest. 

“Other one,” Chara corrects with a slight kick of their other leg. “That way to Frisk and your soul.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel.”

“And I don’t?”

“That’s your problem.”

“I’m the one walking.”

“Not now since you’re standing still.”

How much would it hurt Frisk if their soul fell from the height of Aofil’s shoulder, they ponder for a bit.

But only for a bit.

For now.

“Are they also wandering?” Aofil wonders as they begin walking. Again they feel that there’s more pressure on the bottom of their beige paws against the ground below them caused by Chara. The blurred circles left behind are more robust. More filled in, and less faint. It’s still not enough to discern any form of texture from whatever it is they’re walking on though, but it should give them a good idea if they’re walking in a straight line. 

Neither is it possible to deduce what it is they’re walking towards, or even what they are walking away from. The door they used to enter this even stranger place than before vanished as soon as Chara closed it behind them. Out of the amalgamate into…

“Where are we?”

“Don’t know.”

Into whatever this is. Near-amalgamate experience?

Nothing above to call a roof. Nothing on the sides to call a wall. Nothing below to call a floor. The only light around is from the pressure of Aofil’s footsteps. Their paws make no sound, and they feel no real touch as they put their foot down. Pressure from their weight, yes, but nothing really that pushes back against the underside of their paw. No reaction to their action. Even if they consciously let a toe hang after in their step so that their claws scrape, there’s no sound or touch either. Punching their heel down does naught to help, nor does-

Chara leans their head over as far as they can over Aofil. “What are you doing?” Their fringe casts long and striped shadows on their face from the breathing light peeking from underneath, and the contours of the wrinkles on their confused muzzle gets lost in the dangling hair. It’s hard from Aofil’s locked angle to make out the shape of Chara’s muzzle in this subtle light. “If you want me to dismount then just say it instead of trying to shake me off.”

“Just trying to figure things out,” Aofil answers while they try to reach for a wall. They grab nothing, not even air. Yet they’re breathing completely fine. “Are we further into Endogeny, perhaps?”

“No dogs around,” concludes Chara after scanning around with their hand above their eyes to protect from a sun that isn’t there. “No determination dripping on your nice shoes.”

Aofil lifts up a leg straight before them.

“Paws then,” Chara sighs out tiredly. “Sorry, I guess. Didn’t you just say that you didn’t want to be a Boss Monster? Why so pedantic then?”

“Just felt like stretching.” Aofil lowers their leg again to resume walking.

“...Sure.”

“You’re right though about the dogs,” Aofil agrees before looking around them too. Chara is forced along with the ride as they’re pushed from side to side to avoid the sharp ends of Aofil’s horns as they turn their head. “None to be seen. We’re still inside Endogeny, right? This isn’t me and Frisk’s soul trying to find our bodies or something along those lines? We aren’t accidentally gonna get our souls mixed up?”

Dammit, now Aofil’s gone and made themselves worried again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And it was so nice not having the doubt on their shoulders as well…

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Chara again leans over with a condescending wave to their hand. “I’m still here.” They sit up straight quickly afterwards before Aofil can shake them off. “So yeah, your bodies are still inside Endogeny. I’d felt it if Endogeny would’ve tried to force me out of Frisk, and you’d felt that too with your respective soul. It’s also not that a human can trade a soul with someone else like they do business cards. Don’t be silly, Aofil.” 

“As if you could handle Frisk’s soul,” Chara quickly adds under their breath.

“Not sure if I should answer ‘good’ to that,” Aofil says in a worried chuckle. They bite their lower lip as they drag in a long inhale that’s almost whistling between their fangs. “Seems to be a bit worse where we are right now. There’s not even an echo around to give me some sense of space.”

“There is no echo in space though.”

“You know what I mean,” Aofil returns with a tired frown. “With the dogs around and not around at the same time, there was at least something to complain about. Something that was different from me, and you. Lack of entropy, if you will. I’ve gotten used to that living in the real world, so walking around inside what appears to be complete entropy is unsettling to me.” They shake their head. “Also your jeans scraping against the inside of my ears is like running a scouring pad on my normal cheek.”

“That you’re still capable of feeling something that petty is a good sign.” Chara taps a claw against the top of Aofil’s skull, and they winch with each sharp tick. “Means you’re still quite aware of you. That your body is still safe.”

“Frisk’s too?”

Chara nods. “If you’re safe, then Frisk is safe. Not to be rude or anything,” Chara precedes while breathing in very guiltily through their teeth. “But Frisk has a bit of a higher priority, so to speak. Not even so to. Just speak. So if your body is safe, then Frisk’s surely is.”

Aofil’s mouth pouts out to the side in response to Chara’s rude remark. Not wrong. Completely correct, according to Aofil. That they won’t argue.

Still rude though.

“I’d also be feeling if Frisk was hurt,” Chara continues with a rather strange pride to their words. “And I...”

And speaking of being rude.

“That’s not funny, Chara,” Aofil spits back while gripping harder on Chara’s shins. “Stop it!”

Chara blinks with their mouth hanging open in a daze. “...N-no, it’s not that. I...I think we’re close. That’s what I felt.”

...Fair enough. Aofil needs a brief moment for their heart to sink back down from their throat. Their entire back is almost completely iced up from the chill sent up it. It is a very unstable house of cards they’re walking on. One slight shove in any direction, be it good or bad, and this will all come tumbling down. Aofil needs to figure out how to get out of Endogeny with Frisk. 

Never ever could they predict that something like this would happen. The only reason they aren’t breathing deeply and hurriedly with panic is because they feel that this is familiar to the previous time they had Chara up on their shoulders.

And the fact that they can call upon that experience is absurd beyond reason!

Alright, alright, alright.

Calm down.

Aofil exhales with their entire body.

“Just a bit more,” Chara informs with care. “Couple of more steps, and then we’ll be home.”

Home?

Which home?

Aofil looks up through their fringe.

“Which ho-”

Materializing out of less than thin air right in front of Aofil is another pair of doors. Their muzzle scrunches like an accordion stomped on by Undyne as they slam into it, and they recoil back just as hard and which just as much pain, albeit on their face rather than their ears.

“Ow!” Aofil cries as they throw their startled neck back. “Ow!” they cry again when Chara desperately tugs at their horns to prevent themselves from falling off. Pain from both the front and back of Aofil’s head? What’s next?

The rough jeans of Chara’s slide up underneath the insides of Aofil’s furry ears as their hands slip off, and they fall back while crossing their legs more desperately around Aofil’s throat. Aofil can’t even muster up a third clean cry, only a gargled bleat that spills out of their mouth. The two Boss Monsters fall in tandem amid a symphony of startled bleats that turn quiet as they slam into the floor of nothingness. The white circle created by them crashing together blinds them for a moment as they try to roll off each other.

Where should Aofil begin caressing? Their ears, their horns, their muzzle? They blow their nose in a pained huff, but it only makes things worse.

“Fur does not have good friction to it,” Chara mutters while bending their arms behind their head. “Especially when trying to grip horns.”

Aofil reforms their muzzle carefully with their hands. Nothing seems to be broken, if it even could be broken at the moment, but the pain is still blossoming. “Pain is awareness, right?” they ask muffled as they talk through the fur on their hands. “That it hurts means that my body isn’t going through anything?” They’re gonna turn this into something positive one way or another to balance it out again.

“Yes.”

Aofil drags an ungraceful snort through their mushed nostrils. “Good.” They’d spit it out if they weren’t raised properly. Instead they swallow it through their throat still clamped from Chara wrapping their legs around it. “Gotta say though,” they begin as they sit up from their fetal position with a recuperating shake to their head, “I’m not feeling quite welcomed after this, to be honest.” They throw a heel at the two wooden doors which connects with a rattly thud. “Feels a bit too eager springing up just in front of me.”

“Too in your face?”

“That too,” admits Aofil after a silent mumble. They lift up their shirt’s collar and run it over their nose. The yellow color is perfect to hide any snot that might escape. “Where does it lead too?”

Chara crosses their legs after jumping on their butt forwards next to Aofil. “Frisk and your soul.”

Aofil angles up a knee for their arm to rest on. “And which home did you mean?” They rub the final chafing out of their ear between their fingers. “Not ours, I’m guessing, with present appearance in mind.” They flick their ear out to let it fall down against their cheek for dramatic flair and to prove their point further.

“It’s good that you’ve figured it out,” says Chara with a nod before pushing themselves up on their paws.

“Because it indicates further that my body is safe?” Aofil hazards while throwing their resting hand up in half a shrug.

Chara offers a warm smile as they open one of the doors. It’s dark inside, but not the same dark that is around currently. A more comforting dark. A dark that’s there because the light hasn’t been turned on yet, in contrast to light not even existing in the first place. A dark that your eyes have when you close your eyes and count to ten when playing with your friends instead of the dark of having a dreamless sleep.

A more warm dark.

A more homey context to it.

“You coming or what?” Chara asks with an eyebrow raised. “Also,” they mock scratch their chin with their hand, “what’s this about?”

Aofil didn’t even realize that they were leaning forward over their knee with their hand slowly caressing their chin in thought. “Hm?” They remove and look at it for a couple of seconds before clearing their throat. “Nothing.” With a push they stand up and brush themselves off. “After you this time.”

Chara shrugs and enters.

Alright then. Aofil follows suit. “Should I close the door behind me?”

“Yeah.”

So they do.

They find themselves again in the dark, but with it being more comfortable, as they felt from outside it. There’s also sound. And touch. The sound of cloth being disturbed as Aofil continues forward, and the same cloth brushing past their cheeks and hair. There’s some plastic and metallic rattling as they push it out of their way. No footsteps yet though. Not from Chara, or Aofil. What they are walking on is wood though, that much they can deduce. However, the pressure felt as they take their steps is even less than before. Aofil squats down and knocks with a knuckle against the floor.

“Come on, Aofil!” Chara stage whispers a few steps in front. “We’re soon there!” The excitement in their voice is overflowing.

“Where exact...” Wait a second… Aofil grips their throat. Was that their voice? It sounded a bit-

A furry hand grabs their wrist. Not only gripping, but fully wrapping around it. Before Aofil can react, they’re dragged forwards. Is this Chara? How are they so strong? Why is their hand so large all of a sudden?

And what is that vertical slit of dim light?

The wardrobe door explodes open, and out of it tumbles two Boss Monsters covered in sweaters of different stripes and colors. They stumble onto the ground, and roll into a mess of yarn and fur before coming to a halt with a creaking sound as their horns grind against the wooden floor.

With their head dazed and covered in a green and yellow striped sweater, Aofil stands up with a hefty wobble. They try and tug the sweater off, but their horns have gone through the fabric, so they just end up throwing themselves blindly to the side, where they slam into something soft.

A bleat rings out, but it’s not from them.

“Stop moving,” Chara orders from behind Aofil. After sternly grabbing Aofil’s shoulders to have them stand still, they unhook the sweater from their twin’s horns. “There.”

Aofil can finally pull the sweater off and see what they crashed into.

Before them sits Asriel with his bed cover tugged against himself like Alphys would her tail. “Did you fall out of your bunk bed?” he asks after swallowing hard.

Just one small problem before Aofil can answer that.

Asriel’s in the lower bed.

And Aofil’s at his level, looking straight into his widely opened and slightly worried eyes. They look down, and their own eyes widen just as big.

“What?”

“Did you hit your head?” Asriel asks again to Aofil staring wide-eyed and with their jaw on the floor. He removes his cover and swings his furry legs over the edge of his bed. “I’ll get mom.”

Mom?

Wait...

Mom!

No, it can’t be. Can it? With Aofil being the size of Asriel, and being a Boss Monster as Asriel, and wearing a sweater like Asriel, and being in the same bedroom as Asriel, and with a vacant spot in the bed above the one that Asriel’s in.

“Mom?” they ask slowly. Their head cranes forward as if being closer to Asriel will make the question less strange to speak. “Our mom?”

Asriel blinks for a couple seconds before his muzzle begins forming his very confused words. “...Yes...mom. You want me to get dad too, Aofil?”

“But aren’t you my...” Aofil glances behind them to Chara tapping a claw on Frisk’s head to wake them up. “Aren’t you my soul?” stumbles from their quivering lips to Asriel again with a befuddled claw raised to hopelessly point at him.

A few more seconds of silence passes before Asriel wrings his cover inside his hand with an exasperated sigh. “You just had to tell them, didn’t you?” he almost scorns over Aofil’s shoulder.

Chara answers the accusation with a haphazard shrug. “They would’ve realized even if I didn’t say anything.”

Nope!

Hold up one goddamn minute here!

“Why?” voices Aofil as they spin around from Asriel to Chara on their pawed heels with their pointing claw now raised vertically in stark and just objection. “Why is my soul talking over my shoulder?” And more importantly. “Why did you want to keep your identity a secret from me?” they critique with such haste and intensity that they cough a bleat halfway through. An adorable bleat that would melt any and all hearts hearing it. However, there are no hearts around, only souls.

Souls that are apparently scheming behind Aofil’s back, despite one of them ostentatiously existing inside Aofil. 

“Forgive me for swearing, but what in the absolute f-”

“Ahem!”

Aofil looks over their shoulders for a brief moment before turning their blinking head slowly back. “Oh no,” they sigh out silently before getting picked up by a pair of warm and motherly hands.

“Don’t speak with your father’s tongue now, Aofil. And is that some sniffles you have on your collar?”

Aofil looks up from the cradle Toriel’s made for them with her purple-clad arms. She gently brushes away their hair from their temple as she inspects with care and concern.

“Need I remind you which queen it was that didn’t realize that the microphone was still on?” comes a teasing and deep voice from behind Toriel. She angles her head backwards before receiving a kiss from Asgore. More from his golden beard than his mouth from the angle Aofil has.

They can only stare.

“Now, what are you kids up to?” Asgore poses to the inhabitants of the child bedroom with a calm, yet still slightly stern tone to his cavernous voice. “You mom and I need some sleep too if we’re gonna keep our promise for tomorrow.”

“I know it is a big day tomorrow, my children, but you need your sleep.”

Asgore yawns to help emphasize.

“Thank you, dear,” Toriel giggles.

“You’re welcome, Tori.”

“Save your excitement for then, will you, children?” Toriel smiles down at Aofil again as she lifts them up to her. Her lips gingerly touch at their cheek, and they can feel it blossom into a roaring fire from the soft touch. “Oh I do wish I had yours and Chara’s cheeks,” she sighs wishfully. “More rosy than anything your father could ever grow in his garden.”

“My garden pales against my children. They’re half me, but all those four cheeks are mine, my dear.”

Toriel tilts her head onto her shoulder to meet Asgore’s lovingly challenging gaze. “You wish, Gorey.”

“What about me?” comes a slightly worried question from Asriel.

“Oh I wish I had the way your horns grew, my child.”

“And she also wishes she had your backwards cowlick, Frisk,” Asgore finishes. He gets a second condescending tilt from his wife head and pouting lips in return, but he only laughs it off. “No lying in front of the children, Tori.”

“You wish more than I that I would have that adorable antenna, king.”

The last word would slay any monster not prepared, but Asgore counters it by gently nuzzling his muzzle underneath Toriel’s heavy and silky ear. “You wouldn’t even have needed your ‘Seven Sowls’ to make me fall for you back then if you had it.”

To that, Toriel scoffs, but she does so gently enough as to not disturb Aofil cuddled inside her woolly bosom. “If only you were so confident, back then,” she accentuates with two large exhales through her smiling nose, “then you wouldn’t have needed to be a prince to have been worthy of me.”

Asgore smile broadens into a victorious grin. “I’m still not worthy of you, Tori.”

Toriel’s faux scowl shatters like glass underneath a mighty blow from the hammer that is Asgore’s smile, and she’s forced to melt underneath Asgore’s admission. “Oh you.” She swats her ear at him, but he lets it hit him without the slightest of flinch. It slowly runs down his forehead and eyes as he keeps his grin. He’s won, and they both know it. “If you keep this up I might start to think that you love me, Gorey.”

A pair of kingly and golden eyebrows sneak up from behind Toriel’s ear resting on Asgore’s muzzle. “Possibly.”

Toriel flicks her ear back with a “tsk” and an affectionate shake to her head. “So you see, dear children,” she informs the four pair of Boss Monster eyes looking at her from inside the dimly lit bedroom, “Asgore and I all wish we had what you had.” Her head rests on Asgore’s steady shoulder as she again sighs wishfully. “How proud I am to be you mom, and how proud Asgore is to be your father.”

Aofil’s brow furrows, and they look away at the thrown-opened wardrobe. 

“I’ll help you up again,” offers Toriel.

“And I’ll get you up to your bed, Chara,” offers Asgore.

It’s a very nostalgic feeling that washes over Aofil as Toriel lifts them up effortlessly on the top bunk bed above Asriel. They were never lifted up this strongly though. Gently, of course, but so immensely strongly by Toriel. Asgore barely uses more than a finger to help Chara up too.

“Lay down,” Toriel whispers carefully as she even more carefully pushes Aofil’s head down into the awaiting pillow. She tucks them in with their cover before hovering her hand over their head. “You want me to heal you?”

Aofil stares at Toriel for what feels like a complete minute. They catch themselves almost giving in to this. To this...illusion. Hearing her ask to heal their head though, it reminds them of when she first did it. Years past, she did that to Aofil, but then they were a human.

They. 

Are. 

A. 

Human.

This isn’t real.

But for a moment in her arms they’d almost forgotten that. 

“No, I’m fine,” they answer, purposely omitting calling her ‘mom’. They’re not sure what will happen if they try and break out of this illusion while Toriel and Asgore are still here, so they bide it for now.

Toriel still smiles as she retracts her hand after giving Aofil one last cherished caress on their blossoming cheek. “Sleep well, child.” She squats down to give the same motherly treatment to Asriel. “And you too, my child.”

Because to her they’re all equally her child.

And that Aofil knows isn’t true.

The two proud Boss Monster parents collect at the door frame, Asgore motioning for Toriel to go first, which she does with a slight nod to her head. “Goodnight, all of you,” she wishes to her tucked-in children before putting her hands over the front of her robe and leaving the room.

“Love you all,” Asgore appends with just as much love before he turns off the light and closes the door.

It’s dark again.

A confusing dark.

A dark that Aofil could never fall asleep in. 

That they shouldn’t fall asleep in.

Not when they’re like this. Not when everything around them is like this. This isn’t real! It can’t be!

Yet they wait for the sound of the door to Toriel and Asgore’s bedroom to close before they roll over to the fence of their bunk bed. “Alright,” they say to the room only lit up by a night light near the wardrobe. They clear their throat as it still got some bleating inside of it. “Explain!”

There’s some shuffling from underneath, as if Asriel’s having a bad dream and can’t fall asleep again. That’s not applicable now though, and Aofil leans over the fence with their ears blocking out the night light from their vision as they flop down over their burning cheeks. “You know fully well what I mean, don’t you?” they press further as their grip hardens on the wooden fence. “You’re my soul, Asriel. I know that! Why are you trying to lie to me? Is it because you want to stay here inside an amalgamate? Is that what it is?”

More shuffling, but from the other side of the room.

“Do you want more control over me or something? Answer me!”

“Aofil.”

They lift their head to peer into the dark. That voice. It’s been so many years since last time. “Frisk?” they ask the figure sitting up at the bottom of the opposite bunk bed.

“This is my doing,” comes an embarrassed admission filled with guilt. Not enough to summon a bleat, but very close. “I...”

“I don’t like the fact that my soul is tossing and turning because I asked it for an explanation,” Aofil feels that they have to voice rather urgently. The warmth and tender caress from Toriel still lingers on them like a warm blanket weaved out of reminiscent. “We need to get out of Endogeny, Frisk.” They shuffle over to the ladder leading down on their knees. “If I’ve understood anything from all of this then the exit out of Endogeny will be through the door. You’ll have to think that it is too so that both our souls are on the same page, just in case.”

“We can stay for a while.”

Aofil freezes on the ladder, having only managed one step down before they snap their head around. “You have your real brother and your real parents outside in the real world,” Aofil repeats with each instance coming closer and closer to a scream. They jump down the last height and land softly on their large paws. Asriel cowers underneath his blanket as Aofil casts a hard glare at him.

“Just one day...”

Frisk hand is limp when Aofil grabs it. They blink away the rushing memory of Chara doing the same to them on that morning when everything began. Frisk does the same that Aofil did when Chara told them that they had to go to Mt. Ebott, jerking their hand back towards them while caressing it in doubt and worry.

But this isn’t the case of a human hand grabbing a human wrist. It is a Boss Monster wrist grabbing a Boss Monster wrist. It. Isn’t. Real!

Aofil grabs further up Frisk’s arm, and tugs them hard up on their browner paws. Their cowlick bends against the bottom of the upper bunk bed, and their muzzle lowers with a sigh. Like a wagon, Aofil drags Frisk over to the door. They open it, and…

They close it again.

And open it.

And close it.

And open it.

And-

“You gotta think about getting out of here too, Frisk!” Aofil spits behind them with their muzzle coiled like a metal spring. “Alright?”

“It’s still my birthday in here...”

The door closes one last time as Aofil’s head falls against it. “Please!” The hasp of the lock stops at the door frame, but Aofil’s second thud of their forehead closes it properly. They let their head slide down until their horns provide enough friction for their head to hang.

“It’s still your birthday out there,” Aofil retorts through a sigh. “The real Asriel is outside. The real Toriel, and the real Asgore. Your real family. The real you, and the real me. Not...” They turn around and drag up Frisk’s sleeve. “Not this,” they finish as they run their claw up and down Frisk’s furry forearm. Even in the faint light it’s still very visible why they are doing it.

Frisk drags their sleeve back. “It is real to you though.”

“And this is what I meant with my worry about you wanting to be more monster.” Aofil lets go of Frisk’s hand as they need both of their own to rub against their face. Their wrists are bent awkwardly against their muzzle as they rub the flats of their hands against their forehead. “What if everyone else outside are worried? I don’t even know how long we’ve been in here.”

“Not for long,” whispers Frisk with their mouth barely moving. “It’s gonna just be a couple of seconds, maybe even just a few minutes when we decide to leave.”

“And we’re deciding to leave right now,” Aofil says with all the seriousness their small Boss Monster body can muster while throwing a finger downwards. “You get that?”

“One day.”

“No.”

“Just one day.”

“No.”

“We’ll all four be siblings.”

“We all four aren’t siblings,” Aofil reminds harshly. There really isn’t another way to do it to get their point across. “You and I aren’t siblings, and Chara and Asriel aren’t real here. Nor is Toriel and Asgore, and-”

“But what if I want to live in a fantasy for just one day!”

Aofil dodges the rapid paw thrown against the door very close to their head. They flinch as Frisk drags back their lips to bare their gritting teeth.

“I know this, Aofil! I know this isn’t real! I need a break from reality! Just to get this all out of my system!”

“That’s what the birthday party is for!” Aofil throws their hand against the tensed bend of Frisk’s arm. “That is what all of your friends, all of your family, have come together for!” They grab Frisk’s shoulder sturdily, but not enough so that their claws cause any damage. Through the dark they breathe heavily in rhythm with Frisk. “This is too much. Us being siblings and Boss Monster children to Asgore and Toriel is too much, Frisk. I don’t trust you having this as a memory. And you shouldn’t trust yourself with it. Whether or not you can still reset with Chara gone, not even yourself might know, but you might be tempted to try if you think back to this.”

Frisk’s shoulder begins sagging underneath Aofil’s palms.

“We were even worried about you resetting when you first faced Mettaton in Toriel’s robe and with prosthetic ears stapled on, for crying out loud! And for that there was a reality for you to compare to and realize that it had to be a joke and a charade set up just for you. You still wanted the reality more than you wanted the fantasy.”

The heaving shoulders collapse, and Aofil follows Frisk down as their knees buckle and they crash sobbing onto the purple carpet.

“And this fantasy is too much something you’d want as a reality. You know how memories work, Frisk. You know how powerful they can be, and how much they can consume someone.”

The tears begin pooling at the fringe of the delta rune sewn into the carpet.

“You liked it in mom’s hands though, Aofil.”

They turn to where Asriel spoke from. “Don’t involve yourself in this. I’m telling you, as your human, as your vessel, to not involve myself in this.”

“But you also want this, in a way.”

“I don’t.”

“For Frisk.”

“...”

Dammit.

Frisk tilts their head up to Aofil clenching their teeth together. “D-do...you?”

Aofil looks into Frisk’s tear-filled eyes. Despite the brown fur encompassing, it’s still the same pair of eyes Aofil knows. The eyes of a human who’s needed this birthday for so long. The planned catharsis to give an outlet for all the emotions built up over the years.

Wasn’t it enough? Wasn’t Frisk’s friends and family dressing up as each other enough? Them getting this catharsis out of their mind, but not their…

Aofil tilts their head over to Asriel.

And then to Chara.

Not their soul…

How far is Aofil gonna be the adult to Frisk? So far as to become a child? Not only in form, but in soul too? 

And with them being inside an amalgamate while it’s all happening, and...

They can hear Asriel squirming again.

Best they say something.

“Yes,” Aofil admits while they glide down with their back against the door. Their sweater comes up halfway down, but it doesn’t really make a difference. “I do. I’d join you too, Frisk. Waking up to Toriel making breakfast for us all is not something I can lie about not wanting to experience too. Hell, I would’ve even indulged in some breakfast snails while I’ve got the palette for it.” Aofil’s brief smile turns back into a serious frown again. “But, again, the memories. And again, with us being inside Endogeny.”

A dog’s head puffs and bumps its way underneath Aofil’s hand. It’s bigger than before.

“Endogeny won’t hurt us,” Frisk says as they pat another dog materializing between their legs and with its head resting on their legs.

Aofil looks down to where the dog was just a moment ago, but now it’s gone. “That still leaves the memories.”

“What if you don’t remember?”

Asriel jumps out of his bed at Chara’s remark, and that in turn clues Aofil into the feeling that they might consider that notion. “I don’t know,” they still say. “They always seem to sneak their way back one way or another.”

“You got your own soul to guarantee it though,” counters Asriel. “And you still don’t remember your time spent with Chara fully. What flashed when you grabbed Frisk was just the two of you connecting for the first time in here. Last time you had a soul touch yours was when you fused with Asriel, and that’s what popped up briefly.”

Aofil rolls their head over to where Asriel stands bouncing on his excited knees with his hands clenched in the same excitement. Their horns leave two parabolic lines in the wood. “Mhm?” they voice without having been persuaded. Their tone has Asriel bouncing slower.

“It is something even I don’t remember,” he explains while rolling his thumbs, “because I chose not to. Well...” he corrects while kicking his legs in remorse. “I didn’t really have a choice, to be honest.”

“Kitchen fire?” Aofil guesses.

“More in the sense that everything was on fire. Couldn’t save it all, and a small part of me got lost, as you know. What I could save about Chara was so...tainted, that it was better for you not to have any idea about it.” Asriel returns to his bed which he sits down on with his legs swinging over the edge. “I say I, but I mean you. Since…again...you know...”

Aofil will never.

Asriel nods. “Yeah, I know that.”

Aofil turns back to Frisk, who’s sobbing has calmed down. They have their legs pulled up to their chin, with their muzzle resting on it.

“I am explaining it to myself with the words I want to hear,” Aofil says with a sigh that has Asriel’s legs freezing mid-swing. “But the point still stands that I don’t remember Chara, even with everything that’s happened.”

“I promise,” says Asriel.

Of course Aofil would promise themselves.

“And you?” Aofil shoots over to Chara.

A thoughtful moment passes by.

“I promise,” says Chara. “It’s for the better, Frisk.”

“...I know,” they answer reluctantly.

Aofil offers a hand for Frisk to stand up with. “So, how do we do this then? Are we gonna believe that we are all siblings tomorrow? You two can do that, right?” they ask the souls on respective bunk bed. “But only for one day.”

“Only for one day,” the souls answer in unison as Aofil helps Frisk over to the bed underneath Chara.

Frisk holds Aofil’s hand as they try and let loose. They throw themselves into their embrace, and caress their muzzle against Aofil’s neck. “Thank you,” they whisper in one last sob. “I need this.”

Hopefully them scaring Frisk about the memories is enough to make them feel hesitant when they think back to this. Aofil’s not completely convinced about the whole memory erasing thing, and frankly that is quite scary in the first place. 

Not to mention that they’re feeling that something beginning to happen in their head.

“Yes, yes.” Aofil gently pushes Frisk away and eases them back into their bed. Not as gently and as motherly as Toriel, since the two are siblings, after all. “Happy birthday, Frisk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wait a second…

Sibling?

Oh, looks like the brainwashing has already begun.

Fantastic.

“Singe my soul...” they breathe out quietly so that mom doesn’t hear them swearing again.

Mom?

Guess the brainwashing is moving fast!

So maybe Aofil should ask their brother about a couple of things while they still have the chance.

“Psst,” they whisper to Asriel as they pass him by on the way to the ladder up to their bed. “Am I fine with Muffet now? Doubt and that gone?”

Asriel nods.

“Good.” And also. “What about magic? Can I do that?”

“Not sure. We’ll see.”

One out of two is good enough.

Aofil climbs back up into their bed. They cozy up on their pillow before dragging their cover over them. It’s not as comfortable as when mom tucked them in, but if they roll from side to side it comes close enough. Hopefully they can fall asleep quickly.

Tomorrow’s a big day!

The door is opened slightly ajar, and a careful white muzzle peeks in.

“Are they all asleep?” wonders Toriel from outside.

“Yes.”

Asgore retreats his muzzle back out and closing the door.

“All of our children are asleep.”


	170. House of goat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fluff!
> 
> Yes, just lean back and enjoy. This is essentially outside the story, but it is still so, so good. Indulge with me, please, because no one person can withstand this much fluff.
> 
> [ Many thanks again to BlackRazorBill for providing some visuals to this April Fluff!](http://blackrazorbill.tumblr.com/)

Morning.

An exciting morning.

A very important morning.

“Shh, don’t wake them now.”

A morning filled with sneaking paws moving to the opened bedroom door. A hunched over morning to not make any sounds. A very hushed morning. Don’t-ruin-the-surprise morning. 

“Ow!”

...Or at least, it was meant as one.

“Sorry,” Aofil whispers with their hands over their muzzle and with their panicked eyes shooting over to Frisk in their bed.

Still asleep.

Phew!

“We might have to file down your claws a bit if you’re gonna get your toes stuck in your sibling’s bed like that.”

A large and gentle paw pushes against their back through the slightly opened bedroom door. Once outside, Aofil opens their hands over their mouth to hiccup their caught bleat into their palms to calm its volume. Chara and Asriel have already hurried into the living room and onto their chairs, the claws on their paws not having been caught on the lower bunk bed and tripped them over.

“We’ll trim them after breakfast though, child,” Toriel says while caressing Aofil’s head like a paintbrush. First softly backwards with the back of her hand, and then softly forwards with her palm. “Since we have presents to wrap.”

Aofil nods so hard their ears almost knot themselves together. They take Toriel’s hand in theirs and lead her hurriedly through the hall. “Can I wrap mine in the snail paper, mom? Please!”

Toriel spins Aofil around in a giggling pirouette. “Of course, child.” For as long as she can remember Aofil’s always loved that. From their earliest days of stumbling around trying to walk they were always spinning around on both their heels and their toes. Both of their beige hands wrapped around Asgore’s large finger as they would rather dance in circles rather than learn how to walk. Their hands didn’t cover much of Asgore’s fur on his finger back then, and now Aofil’s hand fits comfortably inside Toriel’s.

Oh, my children. How much you’ve all grown.

“But we better hurry up before your siblings use it all up on their presents.”

Aofil’s eyes again widen in panic. Their mouth begins to drop, but they slam it shut into a frown. “Unfair!”

Toriel gingerly reminds their child that they’re supposed to be quiet with a tender hush.

“Unfair,” Aofil bleats in a whisper with their small hands balled up. Their cheeks begin to warm as they deepen their frown further.

But Toriel can only smile at the burning blushes turning Aofil’s beige fur into a grayish pink color. She again ruffles her child’s head, to their pouting dismay. As she lifts her head again she spots something outside the hallway window. She stops to narrow her eyes. “What is it, mom?” Aofil pries inquisitively before putting their muzzle up on the windowsill. They narrow their eyes as well to mirror their mom. “Dad? Who is he talking to?”

Toriel turns her head to the kitchen. Aofil does the same, and almost knocks off a potted Golden Flower plant with the tip of their nose. They catch it just before it falls over. To their immense relief, Toriel didn’t see what happened, and they drag a light sigh which puffs the purple curtains up to gently fall onto their head. They look at Toriel through the white delta rune sewn in.

“Would you...” Toriel pauses for a heartfelt giggle as she sees the edge of Aofil’s beige nose poking out from underneath the curtain. She gently taps a finger against it “Snoot,” and Aofil throws their arms up.

“Hoot.”

Toriel makes sure to tug their yellow and purple striped sweater back down again as she removes the curtain. “Would you kindly go and ask your father to conclude his business and come back inside?”

Aofil nods excitingly. “Yes.” They burst towards the door and puts their palm on the large handle. Even with their fingers fully outstretched they barely envelop it. “Uh...” they mumble before looking bashfully up underneath their long fringe. “What does ‘conclude’ mean?”

Toriel bends forward. “It means to finish up, my child.”

“Ah!” Aofil freezes as they hear how loud they said that. “Ah,” they again whisper with their free hand flat against their cheek. It falls down after a thoughtful second as Aofil looks past their mother smiling ever so warmly and into the living room where their brother Asriel and twin Chara are hard at work trying to get some tape out of their respective fur. Shaking it off doesn’t work as it only jumps over to the other one, and tugging it off doesn’t work either, since it hurts. Maybe mom could help them?

Toriel follows Aofil’s worried look with her head. She scoffs lightly. “Oh, children,” she says while failing to keep a stern expression, “I told you you should’ve waited for me.” She turns her head back to Aofil. “I’ll make sure that there is some snail wrapping paper for you when you return.”

“And for dad too?”

“And for dad too,” Toriel repeats with a nod. “Now go and see to it that he’s consummated with his captain.”

“Uh...”

Toriel giggles at Aofil’s jaw dangling as they try to think. She shouldn’t be doing this, really, with all these obscure words, but with the way Aofil’s hair, ears, and mouth hangs so agape when they think so hard is just so adorable. Swallowed up whole by their curiosity. “Concluded,” she explains after a pleased exhale.

“That he’s concluded!” Aofil acknowledges proudly with the new word they’ve learned. They wait for their mother’s equally proud nod before opening the front door and closing it, gently, very gently, very very gently as to not wake Frisk, behind them.

The morning breeze greets Aofil’s hair and fur with a playful tussle. The smell of the blooming tree at the end of the pathway surrounded by Asgore’s varied gardening is as fresh as the Waterfall, and as awakening as Snowdin. Aofil doesn’t want to breathe out. They want to breathe in for as long as they live! The more they do, the more of the different flowers and trees they can smell at the same time. Fill their puffed up little body with as much fresh and odorous air as they can so they can save it up for Frisk later. They have to get their father to finish and conclude first though. And then wrap their present for Frisk. But after then they’ll…

Their cheeks almost explode from the sheer pressure of their joyful bleat that they have to hold in until they can sing it out for Frisk. They ball their hands again and push them against both sides of their cheeks to hold it in. Their cheeks move around like they’re kneading dough, but eventually they manage to swallow their bleat, and they breathe out carefully.

Determined, they step down the path towards where Asgore is squatting down next to…

Gerson?

What is he doing here? To give some gifts to Frisk?

Aofil didn’t get a gift from Gerson when they had their birthday. Neither did Chara or Asriel. Strange. Aofil crosses their arms as they lean on the large, black tree to think.

Mom and dad have always made sure all four get the same amount of presents. Not that it really matters since they share it between them all the time, even their sweaters. It’s fun to once or twice go around with the same colored stripes, especially when others have to pause to guess which one is Aofil, and which one is Chara. They’ve gotten pretty good at imitating the other beyond being twins. They haven’t managed to fool mom or dad yet.

...Yet.

Although they would never try to. Not to mom and dad. Or Frisk and Asriel. Although although, there will never be a yet for Frisk and Asriel.

Gerson though?

Aofil looks over to him and dad chatting away with their backs turned towards Aofil and the house. They could maybe have done it if they had Chara’s sweater on, but right now they don’t. Maybe they shouldn’t do it on Frisk’s birthday though.

Would be rude.

Aofil pushes off the tree with their shoulder, and saunters up just behind Asgore’s impressive backside. Him and Gerson hasn’t noticed Aofil yet. The two must be very busy not concluding if they don’t even notice Aofil standing just behind trying to peek through the small gap between the two.

Could it be a present for Frisk?

Only one way to find out.

They back up a few steps with their brow focused and their knees bent.

“Good morning, dad!” Aofil greets as they dive underneath their father’s large arm. “What is-”

They disappears inside Asgore’s robe as he envelopes them hurriedly. “G-good morning, Aofil,” he stammers in surprise. “Hide it!” he whispers not quiet enough for Aofil not to hear. “Shouldn’t you be inside and be wrapping presents for Frisk with the others?” he asks through the fabric.

“You should too!” Aofil replies as they flail around with all their limbs and ears trying to untangle themselves to get out of their soft prison. In their childish thrashing about they manage to hook their small horns over the edge of Asgore’s purple morning robe. They bend it down, and pop out with their face right up against a very surprised king and his even kinglier beard.

“Snoot!” they begin as they bump their small and beige muzzle against their father’s large and white one, which melts the surprise into fatherly warmth.

“And hoot,” he finishes before leaning over and giving Aofil a kiss on their head. His beard tickles their ears as they’re drowned inside its golden embrace. Without any effort he places his child upon his shoulder where they sit giggling with their legs kicking. He leans his head to the side to give them a large horn to hold on to.

In case Toriel is watching.

“Are you concluded with Gerson now?” wonders Aofil while nodding as a greeting to the turtle with both his hands behind his shell.

“Now, now, child,” Asgore remarks subtly. “You can at least greet properly before asking if we are done.”

“Oh!” Aofil stretches out their free hand. “Hello, Gerson. Good morning.”

Asgore bends over so that Gerson can reach up and take Aofil’s hand in his. The grip is strong and commanding. “Well met this wonderful morning, Aofil,” he greets back with a wide smile upon his face which summons a pair of wrinkles around his deep dimples. His other hand is still bent behind his shell as inconspicuously as he can.

Aofil wishes a bit that they could greet like Gerson does. He could probably get Aofil and their siblings to clean their room without argument if he asked the same way he talks. There’s something with the way he talks that’s just so...royal! Not like mom or dad, but like...more so! There is so much respect in his voice! Aofil wants to know how to talk like that. That way they can teach their siblings!

So they can all conclude together!

“And yes, the king and I have concluded for now.” Gerson takes a bow, which both Asgore and Aofil return. “Please send my most heartfelt congratulations to Frisk.”

Aofil nods eagerly before pausing and bowing again instead. “I’ll do that, Sir Gerson.”

They get another smile in return. “I’m grateful.”

“And what about...” Asgore chimes in while rolling his hand in the air.

“Yes, yes, Asgore,” Gerson waves off as if swatting away a bothersome flying Jerry. “I’ll have them done at lunch.” He stops halfway in his turn around to leave. “And I hope you’ve kept up your training there, prince.” The last word trickles out of his word with a slick to it that has Asgore tensing underneath Aofil for a brief moment. “Don’t want me cleaning the floor with you in front of your children! Wahahahahaha!”

His laugh continues to echo even as he rounds the corner at the forked road connecting to Home.

“Prince?” Aofil asks down to their father’s pouting face.

“Hm?” he asks back as his pout fades into a smile. “No,” the smile fades as well, “it’s just some old talk the two of us have.”

“Gerson trained you back before you met mom, right?” Aofil pries further while carefully shifting so that they’re facing their father right on. “When you were a prince that couldn’t even read road signs?”

Asgore’s brow sinks as if tied to two large rocks. “How do you know that?”

“Mom.”

Figures.

“She told Chara and Asriel before when they took a wrong turn and ended up at the Spider Cafe instead of the Nice Cream store.” Aofil leans back as far as they can, forcing Asgore to crane his neck back so that their grip doesn’t slip off his horns. There’s not much grip between fur and horn, so he also extends an arm behind him, just in case. Aofil points over the lookout and down into the city. “The two got scared when that large spider pet jumped at them.” They lean forwards again, and Asgore breathes out.

“Spider Cafe...” he then whispers to himself as he thinks. His mighty hand disappears inside his beard, rummaging around as he mutters some thoughts. The rocks on his eyebrows disappear, and they shoot up weightlessly far into his forehead. “Oh yeah! That’s where that Muffet girl lives.”

Aofil’s legs cross over Asgore’s chest, and their mouth clamps shut.

“The one that you-”

“No!” Aofil bleats back. They cross their arms together as well, and bury their muzzle inside with a muttering huff. They sneeze as their sweater brushes against their nose. “I don’t like her.”

“Yes, you do.” Asgore chuckles, and the cavern around him does so as well. “Trust me, I know that look when someone falls instantly for another.”

Aofil’s curiosity gets the better of them, and they slowly peek up from their folded fortress. “Y-you...do?”

“Because your mother said it was the exact same look I had when I first saw her.”

Aofil looks over to the side, towards the lookout over the city. They draw on the inside of their forearm with a claw. A round, soft face, with five eyes looking at them. Blinking out of sync, which kinda freaked Aofil out a bit, but when the spider girl blinked in unison, she looked so…

They hum as they pretend they didn’t hear their own thoughts.

“We’ll go there later to pick some pastry up for later,” offers Asgore with an encouraging bounce to his shoulder. “Just the two of us. I’m sure she’s just as bashful about you as you are about her.”

The face on Aofil’s forearm gets a final cute smile, with a pair of fangs pointing down on her chin. They can’t exactly remember what hairstyle she had. They know it looked very good on her, but they can’t remember how it was. Maybe...maybe they should go and meet her again to see? “...You think?” they say without confidence.

“No.”

With a worried gasp, Aofil snaps their head over to their dad’s. He meets them by running his muzzle around theirs. “I know, my sweet Aofil.”

Aofil hugs their father’s head and accompanying beard, and he puts his arm around their back in return. 

“Frisk for now though,” he reminds. “You gotta wrap your presents, Aofil.”

“What about you?” they inquire while picking a flower from the tree that Asgore passes underneath. It’ll fit perfectly in the bow of their present. “Where is your present that you’re gonna give?”

“It’s...” Asgore coughs. “It’s...uh...”

“Is it with Gerson?” Aofil lifts up their father’s heavy ear and lays it on top of their head. It goes down all the way to the base of their neck. “I won’t tell mom,” they whisper underneath it.

The ear slides off, almost hooking into Aofil’s horn as Asgore nods. “That’s good,” he acknowledges a bit too quickly. He clears his throat. “That’s good.”

Aofil laughs at their father’s befuddled expression. All other monsters see him as a king, but everyone in Home knows who it is that really wears the pants. Not that Asgore is bothered by it. After all, that’s why he fell in love with Toriel. A soul to match his own, and one that doesn’t hold back in reminding him of that.

And with each of his four children he’s reminded a different way of his beloved. The different halves of his soul mate being expressed with his own halves just as uniquely as the shapes of his children’s horns.

Asriel, with his horns soft as Toriel’s, but with the texture of Asgore’s. Her calm demeanor and his soft side having been weaved together into a soul that wouldn’t hurt the slightest of flies or flowers. Snails though, since he got more of Asgore’s tongue and stomach than his soft side. Fur that’s white like the vastness of Snowdin, and whom not even the dirt dares to sully to risk that white fading away. A child most kind, and seeking the same kind in others, which he always finds. The only monster Asgore knows that can convince a Froggit to leave its disguise.

Chara, with horns like thick tips of a pencil sprouting out like carbon bulbs from the thick hair on the head. The same color as their twin on both hair and horns. Fur too, but only for now. They’ve started to deviate just the slightest. The difference is only visible under a lot of light, which Asgore was when he tried to separate the two’s hands having gotten stuck in some glue during the present wrapping for Asriel’s birthday. That’s why they use tape now. Chara also has the part of Toriel before she became a queen along with Asgore’s way of swaying whatever room he enters. They huff at the notion of being afraid, but jumps into a joint scared hug with Asriel when the two get jumped on by a spider pet wanting to give sloppy kisses.

Aofil, the second of the two blessings that day they arrived with their twin. Cheeks blossoming red on both their beige furs, and with hair growing like the shampoo they use is actually compost for the untamable garden that cultivates wildly on their heads. Horns beginning to curve backwards like the tip of a sickle. Asgore’s curiosity that he found when he first took his own steps outside the castle he grew up in to find Toriel, and with her love of learning making Aofil turn their head around all the time until they fall down dizzy.

Frisk, a monster who wants their birthday to be everyone else’s instead. Love and hope for the entire Underground to bathe in. They’d be standing at the side handing out towels and teaching everyone to swim as well. Their cowlick stretches almost as high and back as Asgore’s horns, and much, much further than their own horns, which are so much like Toriel’s Asgore can’t help but picture his queen with the same cowlick, and melt underneath the image.

“Dad?”

He looks up at his child sitting so comfortably upon his shoulder. “What is it?” Toriel’s eyes peeks through underneath the theater curtains of hair over the muzzle he had when he was a child so many years ago.

“The door...”

Toriel’s head bounces up from helping Chara with cutting off some wrapping paper to use for a book about different crystal structures in the Underground. Her brow sinks as she sees Asgore through the hallway window stumble backwards from having collided with the door. He fumbles as he tries to catch Aofil about to fall off his shoulder. With them safely in his large hands he extends a timid thumb and a plastered smile at his scowling wife back through the window.

“Subtle as you are sneaking out of bed at night to grab yourself some pie, aren’t you?” she mutters underneath her breath.

“I’ll check if that woke Frisk,” Chara offers as they jump off their chair. Their fringe barely has time to settle back over their red eyes before Toriel lifts them back up again.

“You continue with your presents. I need to have a word with your father on the way.”

Toriel barely manages a couple of steps into the hallway before she overhears her children whispering behind her.

“I got stuck in the tape again.”

She shakes her head as Asgore enters with the same plastered smile casting a radiant guilt that has Toriel continuing her shake, but with eyes firmly on her husband, who nods down to Aofil not at all hurt see they’re fine no worries, dear.

“Did you save some of the snail wrapper for us?” Aofil asks after gesturing for Toriel to bend down so they can lift up her ear. It’s not as heavy as Asgore’s, but it is a lot smoother to hold. 

In return, Toriel nuzzles her nose underneath Aofil’s ear. “I did,” she whispers back. Their ear is lifted up as Aofil takes a deep and excited breath that raises their entire face into a beaming smile, and Toriel stands up right again with her hands together on her robe. “Go to your siblings, my dear Aofil. Use your claw and not the scissors if you need more from the roll.”

“Can I use my magic?”

Shouldn’t really be a problem. They’ve shown themselves to be careful with it lately. “That you can do.” She gives them a twirl to set them off on their way to the living room where Asriel fruitlessly tries to shake off some striped present paper that’s stuck on the tape stuck on his hand.

“Look at them,” Asgore speaks through a deep inhale through his mushed nose. Halfway through it turns into a snore, and he quickly straightens it out with his hands. “You’d think that doing birthdays four times a year would tire them out.” He moves to embrace Toriel, but before he’s allowed to do that, he’s given a handkerchief to blow his nose and clean his fingers. “Thank you, dear,” he says after blowing a rather weathered trumpet that has his awake children giggling. Now he’s allowed to let his arms gently fall over Toriel as she leans her back into his fuzzy torso. She burrows deeper with her shoulders, and parts his beard with her head before inhaling too.

“Six times if you count the two of us,” she corrects as she moves her arms around Asgore’s sides and behind his back where she locks him in place.

As if he’d ever escape. 

“You know fully well us old monsters can’t compare to the excitement they have between each other,” he retorts with a light scoff. “We’re only their parents. We come second to them.”

Toriel leans up through her king’s golden beard with her muzzle. She pokes at his chin gingerly to inform him of her intent, and he bends his mouth down to meet hers, and they share a long moment together. “Guess we have to spoil them more then.” Toriel lets Asgore run his muzzle around hers. Each circle he makes with his rock-solid chin is followed by, what feels like, miles upon miles of soft, yet still sturdy, fur and beard. “Or what do you think, Gorey?”

Asgore again pushes his nose against his queen’s. “I’ve already arranged for that.”

“Something with Gerson?” Toriel pries while looking up underneath her eyelashes. Never have Asgore ever been able to stand against this gaze of her.

“You’ll see, Tori.”

But apparently he’s able to now? Toriel cranes her confused neck back. “You’re keeping secrets from me, my king?”

“I can’t have you gossiping to the children, my queen,” he explains the same way he addresses his people, with his back straightened and soul wide open for all to hear! “They have such power over you, you don’t even know.”

“They do not, I’ll have you know,” Toriel retorts after scoffing and shaking her head at this heinous attack on her character. Her balled fists find themselves pressed against both sides of her hips.

“Not even you can withstand half-yous,” Asgore informs with such love and tender that Toriel sinks into him again. She crosses her arms over her chest with a childish pout to her lips.

After some huffed muttering she sighs in defeat. “How old have I become if I can’t even stand up against a younger me?” She lets her eyes rest on her children celebrating that they’ve rid themselves of the curse of the haunting piece of tape. The next piece they rip off the small dispenser shaped like a snail, they carefully, veeeeeery carefully, transfer over on the tip of Chara’s claw. Their tongue comes out as they focus hard not to let any wayward wind bend it so that it fastens on the fur on their finger.

“Don’t breathe,” they command to their siblings, whom both blow up their cheeks into large balloons. Chara fails to hold in a chuckle, and their chortle shakes their hand.

And the tape gets stuck again.

Aofil and Asriel trade glances, unsure whether they can breathe again as Chara begins throwing their hand around as if it suddenly transformed into a spider pet.

“A wine becomes finer with age,” Asgore comforts as he runs the back of his hand down Toriel’s ear and cheek. She catches it as it moves down her neck and shoulder, and she squeezes it while caressing with her thumb. “But you still have a lot of years left to be finer,” comes a quick addition from Asgore’s half-scared tongue and lips.

Toriel’s are dragged into a smile hearing her husband’s bumbling words. “Nice save there, Gorey.”

The beige claw becomes free of its taped menace as Chara drags it off on the table’s edge. They grab the seat of their chair and jump sideways a step so the they’re not near it when it inevitably falls off. They come shoulder to shoulder with Aofil, who taps them on their shoulder.

“Can you hold your finger here?” They point to the intersection of the green ribbon. “I want to attach this flower, but I need your finger to hold the ribbon down for me.” Aofil holds up the flower they plucked from the tree outside to their twin, who nods.

Aofil bends the stem underneath the intersection before Chara presses down their finger. They finish the knot loosely, and slowly tighten it so that Chara can get their finger out in time. “One. Two. Three!” Aofil counts as they tighten their knot for a final and hard time. A nice little bow with a flower sticking up. “Thank you for helping me conclude this one,” they thank to Chara, who narrows their eyes.

“...Yeah, sure.”

Aofil displays the package to Asriel, who gasps in delight. “Wow, Aofil! That’s so cute.” He motions for it, and Aofil passes it along to Chara, who hands it over across the table to the white and eager hand. “I should’ve thought about that too,” he laments slightly. “But it was a good idea you did it, Aofil.”

Aofil has another one! “Let’s ask dad if we can borrow some more flowers from his garden.” 

The three siblings freeze as they stare at each other for a few quiet seconds.

Then they all jump down from their wooden chairs at the same time and rush-

No, wait! Slow down!

Ssshhhhh.

Can’t wake Frisk. Gotta walk slowly.

They all tip-toe to their amused parents. Asriel beckons for the two to come down to his level. Chara and Aofil help him lift up their parents’ ears so that he can explain the plan. “Can we get some flowers from your garden, dad? To put on our gifts to Frisk?”

“Of course you can,” Asgore answers before Toriel does. She shoots him a knowing look which he sends right back at her with a blown kiss. “Grab a tulip for your mother to have in her hair too. The bendiest you can find.”

The added caveat earns him a sharp elbow in his side, but that one he weathers. It’s not hard enough for Toriel to actually be mad about it. She’s holding back because she’d never say no to that. She curses him knowing it though.

And also him not having suggested it earlier.

With her three children eagerly skipping down the path, and with her husband walking gently behind them, Toriel decides that this is a good idea to get started with the birthday breakfast. First though, she discreetly opens the door to her childrens’ bedroom. She peeks her head inside, and catches a slight movement of the bed cover on one of the bunk beds. Frisk is on their side facing away from their mom, breathing slowly and heavily. It’s strange.

Since normally Frisk sleeps on their back.

“Oh Frisk,” Toriel laughs warmly. “We did our best to be quiet, but we’re all so excited. I’m sorry if you’re bored being alone like this, but it’ll just be a few more minutes. I promise, child.”

She waits for a few seconds before Frisk nods once. Their cowlick bounces against the wall like a spring, which has Toriel sighing wishfully.

“Cinnamon or butterscotch for the breakfast?”

Another few seconds pass. The slit of light from the slightly ajar door casts a bright angle over Frisk’s form underneath their cover.

“Snails.”

That Toriel can arrange too. “As you wish, child,” she says before closing the door again.

Snails for breakfast though? Well, it’s Frisk’s birthday, after all. Their teeth are already set to become rotten at the end of the day, like they’re always set to be during any of the birthdays celebrated in Home. There are some frozen snails in the freezer, but that won’t do for a birthday!

“Gorey!” Toriel shouts through the opened hallway window. He turns around with an almost circular tulip inside his proud hand. Toriel sighs at his stupidly happy smile. “Be on the lookout for some snails, if you can!”

He nods before shepherding his children to the more shaded part of his vast garden. Toriel follows the family herd with her softened eyes. Oh, her heart flutters so seeing this. Almost brings a tear to her eye, and it would if Frisk were there too.

Hmm…

Now that she thinks about it…

The snails are gonna take a while to be found. Aofil and Asriel are good at finding them, but even when Toriel’s with them, it’s still half an hour or so to fill up a bucket. She’s still got the pie dough to make, and for that it’s usually also a good idea to have an extra pair of hands.

But if she calls in Chara to come help with the dough it’ll take even longer for the snails to be collected.

Toriel drums her fingers on the frame of the window as she closes it. Her head turns to the side, towards the bedroom door she just closed.

“Wanna help me with the pie dough?” she asks as she opens the door again. “The rest are outside picking snails. They won’t notice you.”

Frisk turns around, blinking as they roll into the light. Toriel closes the door a bit more as to not blind her child any further. “You’ll just have to close your eyes when we pass the living room. I’m sure you can guess why.”

Frisk rubs their eyes while they nod. They blink out the last of their blindness before jumping off their bed and into their mom’s embrace.

“Happy birthday, Frisk,” Toriel wishes as she hugs her child with as much love she can muster. She gives Frisk’s head a kiss, and flick their cowlick with her nose. “Thank you for another year of being your father and I’s child. We can never thank you enough for the days you’ve given us.”

Frisk’s hug tightens around their mother’s waist, and they choke an answer.

“We love you so, child.”

And they do so in return.

“Now.” Toriel wipes away the tears from her child’s eyes with a careful thumb. “Let’s make your breakfast pie.” She puts Frisk before her so that if they fall they’ll do so into her robe. With a gentle touch, she folds the long and brown ears over Frisk’s eyes, and they press it harder against their face so that they don’t fall off. Toriel takes a timid step, and Frisk follows. She takes another, and Frisk does to. A penguin mother waddling with her child. Through the hallway they go!

“By the way, Tori,” Asgore blurts out as he opens the front door. “Should we...”

Oh no!

Frisk scrambles around their mother. 

No! Dad! He can’t see Frisk be awake!

Maybe they managed to hide in time?

“Yes, dear?” Toriel voices as if nothing happened. “Did you see something?”

“Me? No?” Asgore shakes his head large head. “Of course not. I didn’t see anything.”

Frisk grips their muzzle to hold in their breathing. Phew! They almost ruined the surprise! That was a close one! Aargh! Dad, you have the worst timing ever!

“Is Frisk still asleep, by the way?” he asks.

Frisk forces their breathing to stop in its tracks.

“Yes, they are,” Toriel answers gently.

“Good, good.”

Frisk can see their father’s shadow close in, and they back into their mom to hide further.

“Because I gotta whisper something to you, Toriel. A secret.”

“Oh?”

Asgore’s large arm round Toriel’s waist, and Frisk ducks underneath it. Close one, again!

“I really, really wish for Frisk to have the best birthday of their life,” he whispers loudly. “Because I love them with all my soul, and I know you do too, Tori. I am so happy to have them as my child.”

“Oh my, what a secret, Gorey. Good thing Frisk is asleep, otherwise they might’ve heard that one.”

One of Asgore’s fingers flick at Frisk’s cowlick as he retreats his hand back to himself.

“Yes, good thing they are asleep.”

Frisk wants to spring out from behind their mom’s legs to hug their dad…

But they can’t!

It’ll ruin the surprise!

They’ll hug him extra hard when the surprise happens though!

The hardest they can!

“And also, Tori, should we get some herbs as well for your snail pie?”

She nods. “Yes, please do. I want it to be extra special.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully Frisk won’t wake up from how good it’ll smell.”

“Oh...” Toriel sings as she massages Frisk’s ears behind her back to calm them down a bit. “I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

With a joint chuckle, the two Boss Monster parents rub noses before Asgore takes his leave to fetch the leafs for seasoning. Frisk pushes themselves up on their toes to carefully spy out the window to make sure Asgore isn’t turning back. 

“Fold your ears again, child,” advises Toriel. “We’re close to the living room.”

Frisk does so. “They’re folded,” they relay to their mom. A second later they’re shepherded to her front again, and together they waddle through the living room past the…

No, no.

Be quiet.

Gotta keep it a secret for Frisk.

Even still, Frisk’s mind begins running wild with what kinds of presents they’re walking past, but they quickly shake those thoughts out of their head. They almost ruined the surprise for Asgore, and now they’re almost doing it to themselves!

Why is having a birthday so difficult?

The mellow warmth from the wooden floor covering the living room gives way to the cold stone floor of the kitchen, and Frisk peeks an eye out from underneath the pink inside of their ear. “We’re in the kitchen now,” Toriel informs as she lets go of Frisk’s shoulders. “You can open your eyes now. Don’t turn around though.”

“What do you need me to do?” Frisk wonders as they roll up their purple and blue sleeves up to their elbows. They put on an apron in their size before handing mom’s over to her. “Wet or dry?”

“Well,” Toriel taps her knuckles on the fridge, “since the wet ingredients are in view of the living room I think it’s best if you do the dry ones, Frisk. Sounds good?”

They nod, throwing their cowlick back and forth with each joyful movement. Toriel can’t help her eyes from moving along with the springy dance. “I’ll be quiet,” they add while hushing themselves with a finger over their lips. “Just in case they decide to deliver the snails through this window.” Frisk points at the one over the sink half-opened. “I think I can make room for me to hide in the cupboards down here if that happens.”

Toriel shakes her amused head at the enthusiasm from Frisk rearranging the pots and pans in the cupboard underneath the kitchen bench. “Fetch me a couple of bowls so we can get started, will you?”

Frisk reaches into the deepest depths of the cupboard, and after stretching their fingers out, they manage to get a claw over the edge of a metallic bowl that they drag towards them. They’re lucky again as there is another slightly smaller bowl inside! “Are two enough, mom?” they ask out loud while displaying the bowls in either hand. 

“Two should be fine,” Toriel says as she takes one. “Thank you. Now, let’s begin with the flour. Do you remember the recipe? The book is in the cupboard next to you if you don’t.”

Frisk remembers! But they’ll still look in the book. They like seeing their mom’s happy expression seeing them reading and thinking. Usually she reads with them from her mind too, which is always fun! They open the cupboard next to them and fetch the old and weathered book. Carefully, they open it to where the snail pie recipe is. The writing in it is so old, and a bit hard to read due to how faded the ink’s become. Frisk remembers though, so it’s not a problem.

“Flour, baking powder, sugar, salt,” they read so that Toriel can hear. A thought strikes them though that they haven’t really had before. “Mom?”

“Yes, my child?”

“How come that all of the ingredients are so similar to dust?”

“Well...” Toriel peeks a pair of narrowed eyes over the fridge door. “What do you mean?”

“Well they’re all white, and kinda like dust. Is it because we put so much of ourselves into the pies we make?”

Toriel’s eyes soften subtly, but inside she’s screaming with relief. “Yes, that’s why, Frisk. It’s a metaphor of sorts, like you said.” She ducks behind the door again.

And exhales hard with her eyes bulging with the leaking relief.

Guess that’s a consequence of her children growing up so fast. They’re still young though, all four of them. Even if Frisk is a couple of months younger than the rest of their siblings, they’re asking questions like they were the oldest one. Not as many as Aofil, but more...heavier. Toriel’s proud over her child’s maturity, but…

She drums her fingers impatiently on the top of the fridge door.

Slow down just a little bit for mom, please, Frisk? You have no rush to become an adult, child. Stay that way for as long as you can.

Oh, Toriel, you sentimental queen.

Can’t wait for your children to grow up, but can’t accept them doing so.

She again sighs into the fridge, almost knocking over a half-empty package of Chara’s chocolate. She takes out some eggs and other fillings for when the snails arrive. Should just be a matter of dropping them into the mixture and stirring when the rest of the family returns with the freshly picked ones, so she should prepare everything else before that.

“Mom?” Frisk asks again.

Hopefully not as heavily.

“Yes?” Toriel answers while closing the fridge door with her knee from underneath her robe. She arranges the fillings she took from the fridge onto the counter. “Something else on your mind, my child?”

“I love you.”

As heavy as anything could ever be!

“I love you too, child.”

Frisk smiles at their mom before returning to painstakingly measuring up the rest of the dry ingredients. Toriel returns to her wet ones with her soul fluttering with love.

Every ingredient necessary is here now ready to be mixed. Love especially.

Everything except the snails, that is.

“There’s another one!”

Chara shoves their one-handed spade to where Asriel is pointing, catching a snail on it that they deposit into the soon-to-be full bucket. They give their brother a high-five before they start searching again.

“I should’ve thought about asking for snail pie too on my birthday,” Chara says to break the rather sudden silence. “Remind me for next time, Asriel.”

He nods as he pushes some orange flowers out of the way. Those have large leafs which the snails like to wander on. None here though, but there are some slime tracks visible, although they’re rather dry. It could be from the one Chara and he just caught, but he should continue looking here in case there’s another.

“Also, how come you like hunting snails but won’t help me and Aofil catch butterflies?” They’ve always meant to ask that to him, but they’ve always forgotten about it. Now that the two are alone and out snail hunting together, it’s finally enough for the question to slip out of Chara’s mouth.

Asriel shrugs. “I like butterflies,” he explains very thoroughly and intricate.

But for some strange reason that’s not enough for Chara, who leans their chin over the orange flower so that it bends down onto Asriel’s head. Not enough to have his bulging horns pierce through it, but hard enough so that they get some color to them. “You like snails too,” Chara retorts, causing the flower to dab at Asriel’s head with each flap of their beige chin. They raise their eyebrows upon high when Asriel leans out and away from the flower the size of his face. “You like them with a lot of lemon, partner.”

“They’re...yummy,” Asriel again explains, but this time with his hand rubbing against his other arm. Another shrug to punctuate too.

This time it seems to be enough for Chara, who drags a quick frown and leans back slowly from the now bent orange flower to not have it slam against their face. It’s pollen season, and these Surface flowers makes their nose so stuffed during that period. It’s annoying. Almost as bad as when Aofil ran into them when Chara was fetching flour for mom during Asriel’s birthday. Aofil’s fault, not theirs.

But on the bright side the two had the same fur as Asriel, mom, and dad had after their collision. Not that they could see much of it with the dough starting to form in their irritated eyes beginning to water.

“Ow!”

Asriel and Chara turn around to where they just heard Asgore voice his pain. They look at each other for a second before replacing the lid on the snail bucket and grabbing a handle each to carry it over. 

“Ow!”

Chara points to the left, and Asriel follows along.

“Ow!”

They’re close now.

“Ow!”

“Dad tripped into a bush,” Aofil informs before plucking away another burr from Asgore’s beard. He tries to smile, but it instantly turns into a pained scowl.

“Ow!”

“Isn’t that the bush that mom wanted you to plant?” Asriel realizes after catching a look of the cracked branches and vines from the bush behind Aofil. He sets the bucket down with Chara, and moves up to help. “The one you said your beard wouldn’t get stuck in?”

“Don’t. Ow! Tell. Ow! Her. Ow! About. Ow! This.”

Aofil throws a burr onto the lid of the snail bucket. “How many snails do we have now?” It bounces off and rolls underneath some rose bushes. “Do we have enough?”

“Ow!”

“I think so,” answers Chara.

“Ow!”

“Asriel found a really good place next to the orange flowers.”

“Ow!”

“Is that why your horns look like baby carrots?” Aofil stifles a giggle as they imagine Asriel having a head of lettuce with his two carrots. “I know!” In their exclaim they tug at a burr a bit too hard, and rip with it a few strands of golden hair. Asgore flinches, but not enough for his children to notice. “When Chara and I go and give mom the snails, you can be outside the kitchen window and then we can point and say that we found some wild carrots too.”

“Then I can jump up and surprise her!” Asriel continues as he also tugs a bit too hard in his excitement. Again, Asgore keeps quiet through nothing but his iron will.

But it’s rusting pretty bad at the moment.

Chara jumps down from Asgore’s leg, and in their hurry they bring with them a burr and some more strands of golden hair that they flick off without looking. They rush the bucket, and pick it up with both hands. “Then let’s go!”

Asgore watches through watery eyes his shimmering and distorted children running away with a hand each on the snail bucket to help carry it. Once he’s sure they’re out of hearing range he stuffs his mouth with his arm.

And then screams.

“Mom!”

Frisk freezes with their hands deep inside their bowl kneading. They snap their head at Toriel, who calmly waves for them to relax. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you hidden.” She takes a large, square patterned cloth, and nods for Frisk to crawl into the lower cupboard. “Can you knead a for a minute more while you’re hiding, child?” she asks with the cloth laid over the opened flaps of the cupboard. Frisk nods, and Toriel lets the cloth hang down.

Completely suspicious, but it’ll have to do. 

Frisk is careful kneading as to not have the cloth fall down. They sit with their legs crossed with the bowl inside, and with their neck bent to the side. It’s a bit tense, actually. Adventurous tense. Hide and seek, but their siblings don’t even know that they’re playing! It has Frisk giggling, even if they feel a bit bad for not involving the rest. They’ll make it up to them though by kneading this dough as best as they can.

Toriel’s eyes glance down at the shaking cupboard. The dough might become a bit too dry if Frisk keeps kneading that hard, but it should be fine with some reconstitution afterwards if that happens. She turns her head back towards the living room as Aofil and Chara come sprinting in with a lidded snail bucket carried between them. “We found these,” they say softly to not produce any echo that might wake up Frisk. 

“Is it enough?” wonders Aofil. “We could get more.”

“Do you want some carrots too?” Chara adds, causing the two twins’ cheeks to inflate as they grab their mouths to hold their laughter in. They cast knowing glances at each other, which only serves to worsen their clumsy chuckle containment.

Toriel’s eyes narrow playfully. “Carrots?” she asks as she takes the bucket handed to her by her snickering children. “I don’t remember us planting any carrots for this season.”

“They’re growing behind you.”

“Oh?” Toriel turns her head around. Her lips morph into a very pleased smile as she scoffs in surprise. “Well, well, well,” she says as she places the bucket up on the counter. She puts her fingers up as she pretends to think. “Looks like we have some carrots growing after all.”

The carrots poking up from just outside the kitchen window begins gently bouncing up and down.

“Maybe perhaps I can find a use for them in the pie,” she says after a shrug while reaching her hand out to pick them. The carrots must be really fresh if they’re bouncing and giggling like that.

Frisk is...unsure...about what is happening.

Carrots?

What?

Through the cloth they can still see Aofil and Chara though, so they gotta stay hidden for now.

They’ll ask mom afterwards.

“Hoot!” Asriel exclaims as he jumps up and pushes his nose against Toriel’s finger. “It’s just me, mom!”

Toriel pretends to flinch back in surprise. “Asriel? When did you become a vegetable?”

“It’s just one of those orange flowers,” he explains while brushing the pollen off from his hair and horns. Not enough to free him from a bath after breakfast, but enough so that he’s not gonna make a mess when he gets inside. “I’ll come inside and wash it off so that I don’t scare Frisk.”

Scare Frisk?

From Asriel?

“Did the cupboard just laugh?”

Oh no!

“No, Aofil,” Toriel says. “The hinges just need to be oiled a bit.” She grabs one of the flaps and holds it for long enough for Frisk to understand. She gives it a slight tug, and Frisk laughs the same again from inside. “See? I’ll ask your father to fix it later today.”

Mom is the best!

She saved the surprise!

“Go finish wrapping up your presents now, children, but be quiet, remember.”

Chara and Aofil nod in unison just like how only they can as they hush each other and tip-toe back to the dining table. Had it not been for their horns Toriel would have such trouble telling them apart. Until one of them opens their mouth, that is. Couldn’t be less of a pair of twins when they start speaking. Toriel is luckier still with the two choosing different colors for their respective sweaters. Not only because Chara wanted the same as Asriel, but that Aofil also chose some purple to their sweater. Same with Frisk. Toriel would’ve painted the entire house purple if she could.

Asgore’s more partial to the green, of course. Same color as his fingers, after all. Yellow like his beard to boot. Frisk’s blue Toriel’s yet to find something specific for. However, perhaps that’s just as well. It is just as well, of course, because it’s Toriel’s child, but maybe having something without meaning gives the most meaning.

“Are they gone now?” the cupboard whispers almost inaudible from the loud rattling of paper and tape from the living room. Shouldn’t be any danger hearing Frisk and Toriel talking with that going on right next to the others.

“Yes, Frisk,” Toriel answers as she removes the shielding cloth. She pats Frisk’s muzzle with her own. “You can come out now.”

“What was that about carrots?”

“Just your brother.”

Just their...brother?

“Is Asriel a carrot?” Frisk inquires very inquisitively with their nose wrinkled like their eyes, and their head tilted to the side.

“Just some pollen on his horns.”

Ah, right.

That makes...sense...

Also...

“I’ve finished kneading.”

Toriel takes the bowl to inspect the dough. Looks like Frisk calmed down a bit. It doesn’t look like it needs some reconstitution, which is good. She flours the countertop as Frisk crawls out of the cupboard. “Here.” She hands Frisk a rolling pin. “You know how big it should be, right?”

“I do,” Frisk says with a proud smile. “A bit larger than the pie form so that you can make those swirls over the lid.”

Next time Frisk will be able to make the pie all on their own. Oh, the pride and joy surging through Toriel at the moment. It almost melts her. She leans over and gives a motherly peck on Frisk’ brown cheek. “My sweet and precious Frisk.” She smiles as she caresses the gentle fur on her child. “How I love you so with all of my soul.”

“And Aofil?”

“Yes.”

“And Chara?”

“Yes.”

“And Asriel?”

“Yes.”

“And dad?”

“Eh...”

Frisk’s brow furrows in an angry sneer, and they lean their head back to show it up to their mother.

“I’m kidding,” Toriel defends with a snicker. She’s a bit taken back by the hard scowl from Frisk. Deservedly so. “Of course I love your father. He is my everything. I wouldn’t be queen without him, and I wouldn’t have all four of you without him. For that I am forever grateful that he decided to choose me. He could have chosen any princess that he would have liked, but instead he chose to fall in love with a simple bar maiden.”

The rolling pin is wrung between Frisk’s uncomfortable hands. “...That’s not how you talked about him yesterday on the phone.”

So grown up you are, Frisk. So wise, and so gentle with your care for others. Your soul for everyone, with not even your mom being allowed to do injustice in your eyes. You’ll grow up to be a great monster. An even greater monster, because you’re already one.

“Because he won’t let me, Frisk.” Toriel beckons for her troubled child to come into her embrace. They do so after second’s hesitation, and Toriel sinks down on her knees so that Frisk can sit in her lap. “He loves me too much,” she explains while she strokes her child’s hair, being extra careful as to not disturb the precious cowlick. “I’ve always been a queen to him, and thus, he won’t let me describe myself as ‘simple’. We’re not worthy of the other, but we’ll never admit that we know that the other feels that too. Because in our eyes, the other one is something we never thought we would have as a soul mate. Someone that makes our soul faint every single time we see that Boss Monster when we wake up next to each other, even after so many years.”

Frisk burrows themselves deeper, causing worry from Toriel for a second. Gingerly, she tilts the white and long chin up. What greets her makes her heart drop through the ground. “Oh, Frisk...” She brushes away the tears forming in her child’s eyes. “Did you think I was angry at him?”

“N-no?”

No? But…

Wait…

White and long chin? Frisk’s?

Toriel looks down at her apron.

Stained with flour, and with the shape of a Boss Monster child’s face on it.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Toriel says hurriedly as she swipes the rest of the flour away from Frisk’s face. “Oh, you have some in your eyes too.”

“Apologizing to the pie, are we?”

Frisk dives underneath Toriel’s apron.

Dad! No! Not again!

“Do you have the herbs?” Toriel asks warmly to her husband. He flashes them between his fingers with a nod. “Then put the next to the bucket, please.” Asgore does so, and turns around to head back into the living room.

“One more thing.” Toriel stops him in the door frame. “I love you, Gorey,” she says for Frisk to hear. “With all of my soul.”

“And I do too, Tori,” he returns after rubbing his muzzle against hers. “My soul belongs to you for eternity.”

“And mine for you, my lovingly fluffbun.”

Asgore throws his eyes down at Frisk cooped up inside Toriel’s apron. “And a fifth fluffy bun in the oven?”

A...fifth?

Toriel gives Asgore another kiss to quiet him up. “Go make sure Aofil or the others don’t get stuck in the tape, please.”

“I know only magic, not miracles,” comes a playful retort.

“Then today’s the day to learn some.”

“A fifth miracle?” he again hints before getting the hint himself from Toriel nodding down at Frisk. “I’ll let you continue with your pie then, Tori.”

Once Asgore has left the kitchen, Toriel pats on Frisk’s back through her apron. “It’s safe now.” Frisk doesn’t leave the comfort of her apron though, and instead shoves their head up through the neck-hole. Their ears fall down on the outside of the apron while the rest of their head stays inside.

“Am I gonna have a little sibling?” The weight of the words thump against Toriel’s chest through Frisk’s chin as they asks their questions with eyes widened. “Is that what dad meant with a fifth miracle?”

“You don’t want to be the youngest?” Toriel asks back while brushing away some of Frisk’s fringe from their flour-ridden muzzle. To that, Frisk looks down and to the side. Their lips curl, but they don’t know how much they want to curl them, or if they really should. “You don’t like being the youngest?” Toriel rephrases while gently brushing off the flour from Frisk’s nose lest they sneeze.

“I don’t really feel like the youngest.”

You certainly don’t act like the youngest, child.

“And I love Asriel, Chara, and Aofil. It’s just that...” They sigh as they fail to find their words, something rather unusual for them, to be honest.

“You want more siblings to love?” Toriel hazards as a guess. The conflicted expression again blossoming on Frisk tells more than they ever could with words. Their cowlick also lowers, which is a surefire way of reading that they’re at odds with themselves. “And you’re worried you might not be able to love your current siblings as much?”

Frisk blinks for a couple of second before nodding. Nodding hard.

“Only you can be worried about something like that, child.” Toriel chuckles to herself. Yes indeed, only Frisk could ever be worried about running out of love to give to others. “But I know that you’ll find the hope to love your little sibling just as much as you love the others.”

The wide eyes return with full strength. With full love. Full hope!

Toriel takes Frisk’s hand in hers. She moves it over her chest, and with her other hand, she gently closes Frisk’s eyes. “Feel my soul, child.”

Her mother’s aura is flush with tender. Once Frisk starts to feel it envelop them though, they sense that it is slightly stronger than usual. They felt it a bit before when they pressed themselves against Toriel’s back to hide that they weren’t sleeping from dad, but that was because mom was eager for Frisk’s birthday, right?

“Can you feel them?”

Wait…was it that?

Deep down. Deep down inside mom’s aura. In her soul. It’s so tiny, so fragile. Is it…

Frisk’s eyes snap open, and they look up to their mom who is smiling down at them with quivering eyes. “Your little sibling, Frisk. All of yours little sibling.”

Frisk...can’t…

“Happy birthday, Frisk.” Toriel pushes Frisk’s head against her chest. “Happy birthday, from both of us.”

They can’t believe it.

A-a-a-another sibling.

A small one.

It’s gonna be such a small one.

So cute.

And so…

Frisk...can’t…

And so…

They lunge their arms around their mother’s neck, forcing her to take support with a hand behind her. “Mom...” Frisk whispers in a choking cry. “I love you.”

“And I you too,” Toriel reminds.

“I love our little sibling.”

“And they you too. Do you want to tell the others after you’ve opened your presents? Give them something in return on your birthday?”

Frisk nods hard into their mom’s neck. “This is the best birthday gift I could ever get.” Toriel replies with a tender hand that she uses to pat Frisk’s head and ears. 

“I know they’ll all appreciate hearing that they’ll have another sibling from you.” She lets Frisk hang around her neck for another minute before she gingerly starts to coax them off. “You think you can stay pretend sleeping in your bed for a couple of minutes so that I can finish the pie for you? It’s already way past breakfast time for us now. I want you to be hungry for lunch too.”

With a final sniffle, Frisk dries their nose off. They duck out of Toriel’s apron, and brush themselves off before hanging up their own apron as closely to how it was before. They grab the bottom of their sweater to take it off as well, but are halted by Toriel. “They won’t notice, I promise. There’s not a lot of flour left on you.” She motions towards the kitchen window. “Jump out from here and I’ll open the window in the attic above your bedroom for you to sneak back in. You can shake yourself off outside if you want.”

Oh! Cool! Like a spy! But wait… “The attic? Shouldn’t I go around the waterwheel?” 

“And risk you peeking through the living room window and spoil your presents?” Toriel shakes her snickering head. “Also, we both know that you’ve been climbing up to the attic window from outside to open for the rest of your siblings, my dear child.”

Even without any flour on their face, Frisk turns completely pale.

“Old chests don’t open themselves like that.”

“M-m-magic?” Frisk tries to defend with their shoulders raised guiltily over their cheeks and ears. Their cowlick also comes down, revealing their lie further.

“And close themselves with half of the old tutus sticking out?”

“...”

“Don’t you worry, child,” Toriel offers with a disarming smile. “I’m not angry, but do tell your father and I next time you four want to play in the attic.”

Us five, she means?

“...Yes, mom. Sorry.”

Toriel lifts Frisk up. “I forgive you, young one.” She gives them one last peck on the cheek before lifting them out the window. Frisk hunkers down as they touch down on the grass, and move along the outside wall towards the bedroom.

Toriel leans her head back to finish up arranging the pie. She takes out the glass form and gently drapes the bottom layer of Frisk’s kneaded dough over it after rolling it out to its appropriate size. A handful of snails bathe in the filling, and get a quick stir around. She tastes it before pouring the filling inside the pie’s bottom. Toriel taps out some bubbles with her claw before letting it set, and arranges the herbs to float on the filling. The top layer of dough she holds slightly taut in front of her. She blows some hard air into its middle to give it a bulging shape. It’ll puff up from the steam inside, but it’s always good to help it on its way to make sure it bulges in the middle and not off-center.

Again she drapes the top layer over the glass form, and with the edges of the lower layer hanging over the form, she begins folding it to create an ornate seal along the rim of the pie. Finally, she taps her claw against the top layer to make some ventilation holes.

There, all done.

Frisk should be on the large tree branch stretching itself against the attic window now waiting to be let inside.

Toriel should do that now.

“Mom, look!” Aofil gestures over the dining table for their two other siblings to hold up their recently wrapped presents. Red, orange, and yellow flowers stick out from the green, blue, and purple ribbons respectively, tied down underneath with neat little bows. Beneath the ribbons are motifs of stamped snails, castles, and suns and moons, all shining in their glossed splendor from the lamp above. 

However, Toriel’s eyes find themselves tugged away from her children’s gifts. A terribly strong tug to have her look away, but if there’s anything that can do that…

She sighs a giggle.

It is Asgore’s horns being wrapped up just as neatly, with even more flowers and ribbon bows littered hanging from them. He sends over a sheepish smile as he moves his hands underneath the table, hiding something. Toriel doesn’t catch it though, since her eyes are too busy staring at the baby-blue paper squeezing at her husband’s large horns.

“The...um...children...” he begins to explain unconvincingly.

“The children?” Toriel challenges with an eyebrow raised and her mouth almost retreating into her skull as it curls back in disbelief. Asriel, Chara, and Aofil all fail to stifle their bursting giggles. “I know you, Asgore Dreemurr,” Toriel cautions jokingly with heavy emphasis on his last name. “I know that this is your concoction. Or cocooning, in this case.”

“There is enough paper left for the other presents,” he puts forth as his defense. “And...”

“Do you want your horns wrapped too?” asks Asriel. “With the snails?”

“Which color?” Chara adds while holding up the many differently colored spools of ribbons in their fuzzy hands.

“And which flower?” Aofil finishes while holding up a rainbow bouquet of flowers.

Toriel giggles, but turns her head away for a moment towards the child bedroom door down the hall. She murmurs on it for a bit before turning a smile back to the crowded dining table. “I’ll go check on Frisk firstly, if that’s alright with you.”

The three siblings freeze in terror, and slam their mouths shut while casting horrified looks at each other. “We forgot to be quiet again,” Aofil laments through their clamped teeth.

“Don’t fret,” Asgore comforts as kingly and warmly as he can to his children. “I’m sure Frisk is still fast asleep. Don’t you think so as well, Tori?”

She nods. “I do, but I’ll go and make sure, just in case.”

The collective three-way sigh from the Boss Monster children creates a whirling gust that throws scraps of wrapping paper and ribbons up in the air to come falling down like large papery snow. Chara catches one about to fall on the ground by poking their claw into it. “Ha!” They catch another too with their other hand, and presents the pierced paper present pieces proudly in the air.

“You do that, my dear,” says Asgore with a returning nod. “It gives me time to finish this for you.” He lifts up a flowery circle just above the table’s edge. Toriel only catches a quarter-circle of it, but she knows fully well what it is.

A flower halo.

God, she loves that king so much!

“Please do, Gorey.”

He winks confidently.

What is taking mom so long?

Frisk peers into the rather dusty window, but they see only dark on the other side. A very, very dusty dark with no mom inside. They sit up on the roof again, massaging the bends of their knees to rub away the pain from having hung from them just now. They flatten their ears having rolled up as they bent their hanging torso up. 

They turn around to lean their legs over the edge of the angled roof, and stare over the purple city below.

Home.

Home is in Home.

Buildings stretching far beyond, with the purple darkening the further away the buildings are, just how they are on any other day. Today being Frisk’s birthday isn’t a special day for Home, and they like that. The monsters in Home all have their own special days that Frisk doesn’t know about, so why should all of them be celebrating Frisk’s? Today is just a normal day for every monsters walking around in the cobbled streets, and that is perfectly fine for them to do. Frisk is glad that it is a normal day for them, because in a way it makes their own day just a bit more special. Or maybe not, come to think of it? There must be at least a few of them that share the same birthday as Frisk. Cool! Special together! Maybe they can spot some from up here? Perhaps they too are sitting on their roof waiting for their mother to let them sneak back in and pretend sleeping?

Frisk puts their circled fingers over their narrowed eyes as they try and zoom in on the monsters far below the hill their house stands upon. Even as they try and adjust their hands, nothing happens, and they let out a sigh.

Dang, they wanted to wave to one.

Oh well, Frisk has five other days to try and spot someone who shares a birthday with their family.

Soon six.

They squeal with glee. “Psst! Hey, Home,” they whisper to the city below. They pause though before they can share their secret. It would be unfair to their siblings if they told the city before they told them. “I’ll tell you later,” they promise with a wink to the flowing tide of monsters starting their days.

But while the monsters might blend together into a river similar to that which runs beside the house Frisk sitting on, the city itself is plenty visible. Buildings of all shapes and sizes. Round, square, some even triangular. Mostly variants of square though, with the important buildings being round. 

Their house isn’t round, even if it’s the home of the Royal Family. Frisk should asks mom about it when she brings them inside the attic window, but they’re pretty sure what she’ll answer.

“It’s because we don’t deserve being the king and queen,” Frisk mimics with their eyes flickering like mom does. “We’re not more important than the other monsters. It’s just a title for your father and I.”

The waterwheel’s round though.

It’s important for when mom wants to make her own flour, and just as important for when dad wants to water his garden.

“The flowers like it when the water’s been blended a bit,” is his go-to explanation why he takes the water from behind the waterwheel instead of in front of it. “That way there is some carbonation to it. You like your fizzy water, right Frisk?”

That they do.

“So does the plants. It’s not as much as in the bottles we buy, but the plants are satisfied with less. Compared to a certain Boss Monster I know and love.”

Frisk pouts at the memory.

It’s not their fault that they like fizzy water!

It’s Chara’s! And Aofil’s!

Because they always give theirs to Frisk because they like it so much and…

Frisk’s pout deepens, and they huff for no one else to hear but themselves. They cross their arms, and kick both legs up before letting their heels swing back down and hit the underside of the roof’s overhanging lip.

Dad’s lying though about the fizzy water.

Frisk knows that.

Because they’ve tasted the water from before and after the waterwheel. There’s no fizzy to it! However, the water after the wheel tastes better than how it does before. That revelation prompted immediate investigation from Aofil and their curiosity. The waterwheel did indeed do something then besides making the water fizzy, but what exactly?

Chara suggested an expedition to follow the river upstream into the Crystal Cavern. Asriel was a bit hesitant at that, but he got around to it once Frisk promised that they would use flashlights so that they could see.

That wasn’t necessary though.

Because Asriel could do magic!

Fire magic!

Frisk can only do healing magic for now, and Aofil and Chara can only conjure small red daggers, and those don’t give out a lot of light. Asriel’s fire did, and still do. Very good for when they all want to stay up later and finish reading a book together. Maybe he’ll help mom to cook the pie today too! Frisk has never tasted a pie that Asriel’s baked with his magic.

They’ll ask mom about it once she gets up here.

“Um...Gorey?” Toriel whispers underneath her husband’s ear with some slight embarrassment to her voice. “Where is the key to the attic?”

“I thought you had it last,” he whispers in return.

“Y-yes...that’s the thing...”

“Oh...”

Frisk lies down with their arms moving over and behind their head for comfort. They stare up at the rocky ceiling far, far above, and drag a long inhale through their nose. Something is telling them that they might be up here for a while. There’s no snail pie smell coming from below, for a starter.

They roll their head over to where the river runs before the waterwheel that’s happily churning along at the side of the house, up and below the wooden bridge, and finally sneaking in through the trees and beyond. Even to this day, Frisk can still follow with their eyes how they and their siblings walked through the trees. Them and Chara on one side of the river, and Aofil and Asriel on the other. There weren’t any snails to pick, so the two didn’t have to stop each fifth step to ask if they should bring some home to mom.

Frisk likes snails, yes, but not so much as Aofil and Asriel do. Why though? Is it because both their names start with an ‘A’? If so, then why isn’t their dad, Asgore, who also starts with an ‘A’, so in love with snails too? Well, he is, but in comparison to Asriel, he is not. Maybe it is because he is too much in love with mom?

Frisk sighs again, which a passing breeze picks up and carries over Home.

Guess that’s gonna be a mystery they’ll never be able to solve.

Luckily they managed to solve the waterwheel mystery though. Not really because they found anything upstream from their house. The river ducked underneath the rocks ten or so minutes into the forest which was a bit of a disappointment. Especially for Asriel who was so excited to use his magic to lead the way.

Once they all came back though, they spotted their mom filling two buckets from the hopper next to the waterwheel. They all hid at the forest’s edge, peering through the bushes and from behind the trunk of the trees to see what she was doing. Asriel found a bush with white berries, and Aofil and Chara found some trees that were the same colors as their fur, which they hid behind to blend in. Frisk found an older tree with a darker bark which were their own color.

Playing hide and seek became much more difficult after that day. Especially when the leafs turned more red so that Chara and Aofil’s hair would blend in even more!

Frisk’ cowlick sways like a thin twig though, which helps them a lot.

And Asriel’s found so many white bushes and white flower patches that it’s impossible to guess which way he’s gone.

And that was where mom was going to with her buckets filled with some form of crystal powder. Her kids were following her closely, but she never caught wind of them. They were all so confused. What was she going to do with the buckets?

Turns out she went around the garden pouring the contents over the flowers that looked a bit sick and wilted. The small ones too, and the ones that didn’t have as much color to them as the rest of the patch. All the while humming with a smile on her lips.

The four siblings traded confused glances, longer and longer for each time Toriel stopped and poured on another lesser patch she found. She was very thorough. Even if there was just a single, only somewhat, pale flower several steps into the patch, she took those steps carefully as to not disturb any other flowers, and gave the flower some of the crystal powder.

Even with Aofil’s curiosity they couldn’t figure anything out. Toriel’s always said that the garden is Asgore’s and that he alone is responsible for it. 

They discussed with hushed voices while huddled together as to why she did this. And why she hadn’t told them about it. The siblings’ discussion was deep and very focused.

Perhaps a bit too deep.

And perhaps a bit too focused.

Because next thing they knew, they were covered in a cloud of crystal powder.

They shot upright from their squatted forms, limbs flailing in unison, almost like a Boss Monster explosion! Toriel rugged back, startled by the sound and the panicked dance of her children.

Wait…

Her children?

“What are you doing here?” she spurted out while trying to hide her buckets behind her back. “Shouldn’t you be...” Her startled demeanor turned into a stern one. “Shouldn’t you be inside studying?”

But she was no match for the four pair of powder-covered eyes looking through her and on the buckets behind her. She wavered, and sighed in defeat. “Don’t tell your father, please.” She beckoned for them to come out of the forest. “Come here, let’s clean you up.”

There was a quiet walk to the river, with Toriel carrying the buckets in her bosom, and her four glimmering children walking behind her in a shimmering line as the powder began falling off them. There was a line of thicker grass where they walked a week or so afterwards. Once at the bridge, Toriel helped her young out of their sparkling sweaters, and into the river.

The water was cold that day.

Frisk shivers at the memory.

They didn’t have time to ask their mom for the answer though, because she gave it up willingly.

“Don’t tell your father about this,” she prefaced again before dragging a weary sigh. “You know the castle him and I lived in before?”

“Jarasevo?” said Chara as they ran their hands up and down their opposite arms to keep warmth.

“The garden there was like nothing anyone could ever imagine. Your father loves gardening, almost as much as he loves you four and me. The plants here are...missing...something they had in Jarasevo, and because of that, they don’t grow as well.”

“But they grow so much here!” Aofil protested as they climbed out of the river to dry themselves off. “Is it because of what you’re pouring on them?”

“It is mostly your father’s work,” Toriel continued as she began drying off Aofil with her robe. “But even with his magic there is still some spots that he misses, so I help him with that. I don’t want to tell him because I still want him to have his garden. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but I would, so I keep that a secret from him.” She let her eyes run over her four children in various state of cleanliness and wetness. “Can you too?”

And from that day on, Asriel, Chara, Aofil, and Frisk, have all helped with topping off the garden along with their mom. Dad’s surely noticed by now, but he doesn’t mention it. 

It’s a secret to everyone!

“Are you here, Frisk?”

They lay down on their stomach and peek over the roof’s edge. “I’m up here on the roof, mom.”

Toriel looks up from having looked down and to the side. “The roof, child?” she asks, but more chastises, in her own special motherly worried way. She shakes her head to try and get some rushing thoughts out of her head. “Nevermind. Would you come down, please?”

“How?”

Oh that is the wrong question to be asking in this moment now, young one. Toriel almost gets vertigo from all the wrong answers popping off in her head. She again shakes her head, this time rougher to really make the thoughts go away! “Give me your feet.”

Frisk turns around and eases their legs down. They feel their mother’s large and furry hands give ground for their feet.

“Now ease yourself down while holding onto the roof.”

Frisk does so, almost like an elevator. Once their arms are fully stretched they come face to face with Toriel leaning out the window. She leans her head forwards while tilting it to the side. “Grab my horn.”

Frisk does so.

“And my other.”

And the other as well.

Toriel then retracts her arms into a cradle as she retreats back into the window. Frisk jumps off, and lands safely with a loud creaking sound. They freeze for a moment, and slowly tip-toe over to the ladder going down into the bedroom. Toriel follows along after having closed and locked the window.

“Mom?” Frisk asks as Toriel folds the ladder and hatch back up into the ceiling. “Can you ask Asriel to use his magic to bake the pie?”

Toriel’s thoughtfully narrowed brow is fortunately not visible to Frisk. “I...I’ll ask him,” she promises as she begins tucking in Frisk in their bed again. “Now pretend for just a few minutes. It is just the pie left now for me to bake, my child.”

“For Asriel to bake,” Frisk corrects.

“For Asriel to bake,” Toriel repeats before giving Frisk a kiss on their forehead. “I’ll see you in a little bit, monster mine.”

“Snoot,” Frisk bleats as they push their nose against the glistening white one of their mother’s.

“Hoot, my child.”

She closes the door gently.

Now...Asriel’s magic.

His fire. Toriel and Asgore’s magic that’s sprouted like a spring flower from his soul.

He’s not been in the brightest of mood about it lately, pardon the pun. Not since he accidentally singed Aofil on their arm. Not enough to make hurt, but enough that they reacted. While they took it with stride and joy that Asriel’s magic had become so strong, he didn’t as much. He was worried about not having control over it. He only tried to light the candle Aofil handed to him, and he almost burnt their hand in the process.

Toriel and Asgore had talked about it before. Even the toughest children get worried about their destructive magic, and with Asriel’s gentle soul, it’s like ice and fire. They’ve talked about it to him as parents, and as teachers, but he’s still reserved about it.

Maybe it is a good idea to let him bake the pie. It’s gonna need a lot of magic to get done quickly, and Toriel will be there to watch him bake it. If he goes all out, then he’ll know how strong his magic is, and thus he can control it.

Toriel nods to herself.

Yes, this is gonna be for the better for him.

“Asriel, child?” she asks softly as she gestures towards the kitchen. “Could you help me for a bit?”

“Us too?” Chara wonders while pointing to them and Aofil with an excited finger.

“Just Asriel for now,” Toriel gently informs to not disappoint, even if her words are set to. “I’ll need your help later to set the table.”

“For that we must clean it first,” Asgore adds. He leans out of his large chair and conjures a long and red trident in his hand that he uses to reach for the thrash can around the corner in the kitchen. With his tongue out the side of his mouth, he carefully balances it on one of his trident’s tips back to him. His proud smile lasts only for a second before Toriel clears her throat.

“We might need that, Asriel and I.”

In case Asriel drops the pie.

“...Right.”

Asgore moves the trashcan back with a rather deflated color to his trident. He dissipates it as he blows a thought through his lips. “Well, we can gather everything together and sort it so that it takes up the least amount of space.”

“...You sure you don’t need our help right now too, mom?” Aofil pleads with worry stretching their lips thinly. “Just something?”

“I’m sorry,” Toriel chuckles. “Frisk has asked for Asriel to help me with the pie, and...” She feels her son’s shoulder tensing underneath her gentle hand, and she squeezes it back reassuringly while keeping her smile wide for the rest. “And I see that you still have a present or two to finish wrapping.”

“And more to clean up,” Asgore finishes with a teasing laugh. “Alright now, the paper we put in a pile here, and the ribbon scraps here.”

Toriel gently coaxes Asriel into the kitchen all the while humming without care. It’s important that she shows that she’s relaxed and not at all afraid if Asriel’s to muster up his courage. Monsters shouldn’t be afraid of their magic, but some have more difficulty learning that than others. Be it because of the monster, or because of the magic. He’s gonna come out of this feeling much happier with himself, and that in turn will be felt doubly for Toriel and Asgore.

Not to mention his siblings.

There isn’t a number big enough for how many times more they’ll feel happy about this.

“Now, Asriel,” Toriel begins as she pushes him to fetch an apron for himself. She bends forward with her palms flat on her legs. “Frisk said something in their sleep that I need your help with. A birthday wish they have.”

Asriel’s nose bounces like a flicked metal spring as his head pops out of the apron’s neck-hole. “What is it?”

With oven mittens with the silhouette of Home sewn in, mimicking the view from the kitchen window, Toriel lifts down the unbaked snail pie to her son’s height. “They want you to bake it.”

Asriel’s hands clench and disappear behind his back as he drags a worried gasp. “M-me?” He takes a scared step back, and flinch when he almost hits his head on the countertop. “B-b-but...”

“Asriel,” Toriel addresses gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of your magic. I’ll make sure everything goes well.” She extends her mitten-covered hand towards her scared son. “I promise, nothing will go wrong. It’s just your own magic. You’ll learn.”

A scared sniffle echoes inside the kitchen.

“What if...”

“No ‘if’. I’m here, my child. Come now.”

Ten unruly fingers become visible from behind Asriel’s back. Fingers trying to knot themselves together anxiously, yet at the same time want to separate and be stiff with confidence.

“Do it for Frisk,” Toriel whispers.

And Asriel nods. “It’s their birthday,” he says to himself. His fingers begin to calm down, but not enough. He balls them into a pair of determined fists that he throws down. “If it is their birthday wish,” he huffs out to stiffen the rest of his body, “then I’ll do it.” He hardens his lips, and throws an even harder stare at the cold pie. He huffs again.

And again.

And again.

And...again…

“Take your time, Asriel.”

No.

No!

If he takes more time being afraid of himself Frisk might wake up!

He will not ruin the surprise just because he’s being a crybaby!

Asriel throws out his opened palms. “Give me.”

Toriel can only smile at her son’s beaming confidence. The same determined and stiffened upper lip as his father’s holding fast against his inner worries trying to make his lips quiver. His furrowed stare is filled with hope.

Toriel places the pie inside Asriel’s white hands, and he swallows as he feels the weight.

“Begin small,” she advises as she kneels down behind him, and with her hands laid on his shoulder with all the motherly weight she can give to comfort him. “Just to heat up the form.”

Asriel nods, and closes his eyes hard. His mouth begins bending in widely different shapes, and his arms begin to shake as well. Toriel reminds him that she’s there by caressing gently with her thumbs. It give Asriel courage, it gives him determination!

The kitchen succumbs to a soft and blurry orange hue. A round shadow is cast into the ceiling as small embers begin pooling underneath the pie’s glass form. The refraction from the glass has rounded, translucent shapes cascading across the surrounding wooden cupboards at a myriad of angles. Asriel’s breath deepens, but he holds himself strong against the memory of Aofil’s hurt expression when he gave too much fire for the candle.

“Try and push your fire more, Asriel.”

The embers quicken their dance until they whirl together into a brazen flame that stretches up the sides of the pie form, flicking at the dough crust as if savoring the taste. The orange hue becomes more prominent, almost dominant, and two small and curious beige muzzles peek around the door frame. Toriel motions for them to keep quiet and not disturb their brother, who is now struggling to keep the pie balanced in his quivering hands.

“You’re doing great,” she comforts. “Listen. The dough is sizzling against the form. You’re baking it, Asriel.”

But he’s too focused to answer.

“Can you do a bit more? To give the crust a golden-brown color that Frisk loves so much? To give that crunch that they always chew on with their mouth open?”

Time and time again Toriel’s tried to get that bad habit out of them, but she might as well try and convince Aofil and Chara’s hair to behave properly for all the good that does.

The orange now bleeds into the living room, filling it up like if the hearth was lit. It must be a spectacular sight from Home looking up at the beam of orange shooting out of the Royal House. Asriel’s magic now licks the entirety of the pie, filling the house with a familiar, yet still a bit different, smell of freshly baked pie seasoned with herbs and snails.

Inside the bedroom Frisk samples the smell with a deep breath. There’s a slightly more sweet hint to it than how mom usually does when she bakes, so it must be Asriel’s magic! They breath in again, this time focusing on the sweetness. It’s their brother’s cooking, and it smells super delicious!

Oooooooohhhhhh…

Now they’re getting so impatient!

“Ease off on the flames now, Asriel.” Toriel loosens her grip on Asriel’s shoulders to let him know through touch as well. “You just need to simmer the snails for a bit now.”

With a harsh gulp, Asriel tries to relax his hands, but…

But…

“You can do it.”

He looks at Aofil, who’s hands are clenched in anticipation.

“For Frisk.”

They’re happy. They’re excited. They’re not hurt, yet Asriel feels like his expelling more magic than he ever could. Maybe…

The hue lessens.

Maybe he can…

Calming down into a simmering glow as the embers return.

Maybe he can control it!

Toriel whiffs her hand towards Asriel over the pie. “Smell it.”

He does.

“I did that?” he asks with eyes widened.

“You did.” Toriel rewards her son with a gentle kiss on his head. “Thank you for helping me bake the pie, Asriel.” She takes the sizzling pie out of Asriel’s quivering hands. A couple of sparks jump out of his empty palms before he can stare at them.

“I did that...” he whispers as he closes and opens his palms. “I did that.” He looks to his siblings, who are both smiling ear to ear back at him. “I did that!”

The three jump into each other’s embrace, dancing around with their arms around their siblings necks, laughing with glee.

“That was so cool!”

“You’re amazing, Asriel!”

And all three’s cheeks are blooming with the same rosy color as they hug.

Toriel places the sizzling pie on the window sill. The wind should be enough to cool it down for when Frisk has finished opening their presents, and if not, then Toriel’s got some Nice Cream in the freezer.

Oh my, what a morning.

So much has happened, and the day hasn’t even started. Snails, flowers, magic, baking. An entire birthday’s full of activities before it has even started!

Well, fourth time this year now. Fifth one arriving for next year. Guess Toriel should get used to it by now.

Or not, so that she’s pleasantly surprised with each one.

“Well then.” Asgore makes himself heard through a rather kingly hawk from the depth of his throat. He stacks up the differently wrapped presents on each arm, with the freshly knitted flower halo dangling on his finger. He lifts it up, and gently drops it on Toriel’s bowing head. She looks up to find the circular rose bouncing very similar to Frisk’s cowlick, and her expression melts into playful sneer that she sends over to her sheepishly grinning husband. “Who wants to begin singing?”

The entire family looks at the king to lead, which he does after a shrug that has the presents bobbing as if on an incoming tsunami. He walks down the hallway with soft steps, and is followed behind by even softer steps. Once at the bedroom door he stops, and looks over his shoulder, being careful to not knock down any presents with his large and wrapped horns. “Are you sure I should take tone?”

No.

But he’ll have to anyway.

“Alright then.” He motions for Chara to put their hand on the handle before counting down.

All of the family hunkers down, even Frisk. They can feel the excitement through the door. It’s like it’s not even there at all!

Mom, dad, Chara, Asriel, Aofil, and their sibling with no name yet.

All radiating love which no door could hold isolated. 

All for Frisk.

“Three.”

And their soul radiates as well.

“Two.”

For their family.

“One...”

That they love so much.

“Happy birthday!”

An explosion of cheers rocks the house to its very foundation, by its very foundation, the family that lives in it. Frisk has barely time to open their pretend-closed eyes before they’re drowned in the hugs and congratulations of their siblings. They try to hug them all back, but they’re not given a single chance to move as the furry arms and sweaters of their best friends in the entire world squeezes tighter around them.

“Now you’re as old as us!” the siblings sing in unison as they roll around together in the bed laughing.

“Careful, children.”

Toriel’s caution falls on ears too busy flopping and knotting themselves into each other, and it’s not long before a beige leg slips off the edge of the lower bunk bed they’re all on. A startled bleat rings out from Aofil’s mouth at first, and is quickly followed by an equally startled symphony of equally high bleats from their siblings that they’re all dragged down unwillingly onto the floor where they all land in a pile of limbs and ears of various gradients of brown. 

Who’s arm belongs to who is impossible to discern even taking into account the colors.

“I know I shouldn’t have postponed washing the carpet,” Toriel sighs as she squats down to help unhook ear from horn, arm from foot, and other ear from other arm, and other arm from other foot, all the while her children are all laughing into the necks and sweaters of their siblings.

“Don’t think that would’ve done much to lessen the landing, dear.”

Asriel sneezes from Chara’s tail waggling on his nose, and Aofil is hard at work not doing the same from Frisk’s cowlick tickling between their nostrils. The strange expressions their face contorts into has Chara laughing harder, and their tail whipping more eagerly into Asriel’s face, which has him sneezing even harder. The sneeze has Frisk flinching, poking the inner rim of Aofil’s left nostril, and they succumb to their building sneeze.

Toriel looks over her shoulder for some assistance from her husband. Unfortunately, he can’t at the moment. “Hands and arms full with gifts, Tori.” But he offers a shrug if that’s to any help.

It isn’t. “For the record, I was more worried about splinters,” she informs her grinning husband as she returns to trying to gently tug away Frisk’s ear from Asriel’s horn. “You don’t feel any, children?”

“Nope!” they all answer together, prompting more giggling.

“It’s a good thing you slept on the lower bed today,” Aofil says while nodding to where, they think, the upper bed is. In practice, they nod towards their own tail, which they believe to be Chara’s.

“Don’t make me worry more,” Toriel chastises with love.

“They’ve fallen from worse,” comes a fatherly dismissal from the door frame which immediately after turns into fatherly regret as soon as his tongue stops as it realizes the massive mistake it just did. “...Or...so I’m...uh...guessing.” His eyes dart away as if trying to flee from his skull, but alas. He’s forced to face his wife’s pout and squinting eyes, which Asgore tries to deflect by moving the stacked gifts on his arms in front of him as a shield.

Can take responsibility of an entire monsterdom, but can’t take responsibility of his own children.

Why does Toriel love him so?

His warm chin and flowing beard lowering over her head like a warm towel reminds her. Reminds her oh so much.

But it doesn’t make her happier in the slightest. She’s not gonna let him win this one.

Can’t let it go to his head.

His golden, flowing head.

...Dammit.

“We’re still alive,” Asriel chimes in to help his father. “All four of us.”

Frisk drags a knowing smile at the word ‘four’. Oooooooh! He has no idea!

Yet.

“Don’t you dare defend your father over what he says.” Toriel parts the beard over her face so she can see, but doesn’t make any further attempt to remove Asgore from her. “He shouldn’t use his children to explain away his responsibilities.”

“Told you they had power of you, Tori,” Asgore whispers lovingly with his chin massaging the top of Toriel’s head with each word he lets fall on her like bright autumn leafs. “Power you will never have again.”

Toriel tugs playfully at her husband’s beard, and he jerks forwards with a pair of surprised eyes thrown open. “Don’t drop the gifts now, my Gorey.” She finally manages to untangle her children from each other, and they roll down on their backs giggling with their freed limbs spread out. She motions for them to sit up. “Isn’t that right?” she asks them with a hefty wink to her eye. She then nods behind her into the beard and towards her husband behind it. 

His eyes widen even more.

“Can I first take a step back and-”

“No!” his children shout before they throw themselves up on their feet and rush past their mom. They lunge onto Asgore with arms outstretched, gripping their arms around his stomach and torso. He stumbles back into the hallway with the bodies of his kids swinging around as he tries to find his balance. Toriel helps him find it by grabbing his hand, and dragging him into her. She joins her children in hugging him, and he gently goes down onto his knees as he embraces the entirety of his family.

“Still kept my balance.”

The top gift on his right arm, a round present with a purple bow with a yellow flower over sun and moon glossed paper falls down and bounce away as it lands. 

Then a square present with green ribbon, orange flower, and snail paper, falls down onto Aofil’s head.

Then the crystal structure book falls between Asriel’s arm and Asgore’s robe.

Then the rest of the presents hail down onto the Boss Monster family.

Asgore’s shoulder sink, and he sighs in defeat.

Toriel puts her muzzle on top of her husbands, leaning it down sideways. She looks up underneath her eyelashes at him, and inhales an affectionate sigh that she exhales over his white muzzle and golden beard like a summer’s breeze. “How are you supposed to hold up a kingdom if you can’t even hold up to your children hugging you?”

Her muzzle is again drowned in the warm and ticklish towel as Asgore runs his muzzle over hers similarly. “I’ll start by marrying the only Boss Monster that would be foolish enough to stand with me in my clumsily attempt.” He tenses his arms to push her even closer to him, and steals her lips before she can steal his.

“Mom? Dad?” Chara makes known by tugging at their parents’ ears. “We’re supposed to be celebrating Frisk.”

“Oh!” the two kissers realize as they crane their necks back. “Sorry,” they say bashfully before clearing their throats.

The house is again shook to its core, but by warm laughter from all of the Boss Monsters. They all come together for another hug, which feels like an eternity since last time. It’s been but a morning preparing for Frisk, but even that’s too long!

“Alright!” Aofil says as they scoop up as many presents as they can in their small arms. They only manage to carry a handful of Toriel’s size, but it’s a start. “Frisk, you don’t carry any of these. You need all of your energy to open them!”

Chara and Asriel agree with a unanimous and determined bleat. They too scoop up as many presents as they can on their stripy sweaters. Rushing down the hallway, they can barely see where they are going, and bump into each other halfway through the hallway. With legs dancing alone without the rest of their bodies, they swing back and forth, and somehow manage to stumble their way into the living room, where they both fall as they throw their carried presents onto the dining table.

Aofil helps the two up on their paws again, and the three then nod with stiffened grimaces as they run back for a second round of carrying.

Frisk takes their mother’s outstretched hand and walk along her towards the living room. They lift their arm for their siblings to duck underneath like they’re crossing underneath a checkpoint, and then swing it in sync with their mother once their siblings have passed.

“Raise the bridge again!” Aofil shouts with more presents in their unstable arms. They drop a present as they duck underneath Toriel and Frisk’s raised arms again, but it is saved by Chara picking it up with a swift kick.

“I know what it is,” they defend back at Toriel casting a narrowed pair of eyes to them. “It can handle a kick.”

Asriel passes through the armed gate without any worries.

“Might be better if you lower it for me,” Asgore guesses before taking a wide step over with the rest of his presents in his large and fuzzy arms. He arranges them on the dining table, and pulls out a chair for Frisk to sit on.

Toriel lifts them up on it, and ruffles their ear before she takes a seat for her own. “Now we begin the hardest part of all,” she informs with a serious expression that melts instantly into a snicker since everyone knows she does that on every single birthday. Not that it will stop her from doing it again and for every birthday that will take place underneath this roof! “Which gift do you want to open first, my child?”

“Mine!” Chara, Asriel, and Aofil shout at the same time while holding up a present each. Their eagerly agape mouths slam shut, and they tuck their presents underneath their arms as they presents their closed fists at each other.

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!”

Aofil, scissors.

Asriel, rock.

Chara, scissors.

Asriel hands the victorious package to Frisk while Chara and Aofil play out their second round.

Chara, paper.

Aofil, stone.

“Ha!” Aofil cheers, which has Chara shaking their confused head.

“What?” they ask as their ears settle again against their cheeks. “You lost.”

“The best for last,” Aofil says in triumph with their tongue playfully outstretched and their present balancing on a claw. 

For about a second.

Then Aofil almost bits their tongue when their present begins to fall off their finger.

“Just like dad,” Chara teases with their own tongue outstretched.

Frisk waits patiently for their siblings to finish squabbling before they begin opening Asriel’s present. They could watch Chara and Aofil tease each other for hours, but for now they have presents to open up.

Asriel’s fists ball underneath his white cheeks, and his mouth opens blissfully as his eyes begin to shimmer with excitement as Frisk unties the red ribbon after having shaken it a bit next to their ear, to Toriel slight dismay, which fades away as Asgore nods to her to let it go. They run their claw around the rim of the snail paper, and fold it away to expose the gift within.

A tail brush. Specifically for slimmer tails.

“Yours is longer than ours, so I bought one that works better for you,” Asriel explains as Frisk holds it up to inspect it. “This one is gentler on your tail since you have different fur leading up to your tip. You can borrow ours for the tip of your tail, but I’ve seen how it kinda hurts when you brush the rest of it with that kind of brush, and-”

His explanation is interrupted by his teary eyed sibling throwing their arms around him. He hugs them back. “Do you like it?”

They nod. “Yes. Thank you, Asriel.”

Frisk has never dared to ask for another brush. They didn’t want to make themselves special. They didn’t want to make the others jealous of their tail. Why should Frisk have a special brush if the others didn’t need one?

Aofil and Chara trade worried looks, which Toriel is keen to pick up on. “Frisk is happy,” she says gently in regards to the tears beginning to form in Frisk’s eyes.

The two siblings trade another worried glance. “It’s not...that,” Chara says with a hand scratching the back of their head. “It’s more that...”

Frisk lifts their head up from Asriel’s shoulder. “What is it?” they ask equally worryingly. Why are the twins worried? Is it because of their presents?

Chara and Aofil hands their over at the same time to Frisk, who lets go of Asriel and takes the two handed gifts in either hand. Even with the different colors to the ribbons, flowers, and wrapping paper, the shape is a bit...similar.

Frisk shakes the gifts on either side of their head.

Sounds very similar too.

“Yeah...” Aofil sighs out. Their rather drained expression worsen as Frisk opens their and Chara’s present up.

Tail brushes. Specifically for slimmer tails.

They all…

“Sorry,” Chara mouths.

They all…

“We didn’t plan for this one to be the same,” Aofil adds. “We thought that we’d do one present we all thought about, and then one we came up with ourselves, but...” They throw a haphazard hand at their gift as they scoff a chuckle. “We did two same.”

Frisk drags a sob.

“Sorry,” Aofil also mouths.

No.

They all thought the same! 

Because...

They all wanted to help!

They’re all the best siblings a monster could ever have!

Frisk crawls up on the table, their long and slim tail whipping like a wheat in the wind as they stretch their arms around their siblings for a thankful hug. “Thank you,” they say with all their soul. “It’s the best presents, from all of you together!”

“Y-you’re not mad that we bought the same?” Chara stammers out.

Frisk’s cheek run against their siblings as they shake their head at what Aofil said. “No, I’m so happy you’re all the best siblings I could have.”

“Then...uh...happy birthday, Frisk!” Chara begins.

“Happy birthday!” Asriel and Aofil conclude together.

Frisk releases their siblings as they crawl back into their chair again.

“And here is from me,” Toriel informs after letting a couple of seconds pass for the energy to mellow itself out. She hands over a perfectly wrapped gift with a ribbon bow that’s so ornate Frisk has no idea where to even start to unravel it! “Happy birthday, my child.”

How many times have mom said that today? Must be like...almost a hundred? Or something?

Eh, Frisk is not gonna look a gift mom in the mouth.

But in the eyes as they thank her, of course.

“Thank you, mom.”

“You’re so welcome.”

Alright…

Now…

Where to begin?

Frisk tugs timidly at one of, what they think is, the loose ends of the ribbon, but it only tightens the knot. They let it go as if they meant to, and lift up the bow with their finger to see if…

No, not there either.

Uh…

Toriel hides an amused giggle behind the back of her hand. “You can just snip it off if you want, child.”

But Frisk doesn’t. It’s so nice, and if they can untie it they should be able to learn how it is tied. Asriel is leaning forward with his more sharp claw to help though, so Frisk will have to ask mom about the knot later. They hand the gift closer to him so that he can make a tear in the ribbon. With a quick flick of his claw he releases the present from its colorful binding. He catches the flower falling off it, and places it with the others inside the prepared vase.

Don’t want to waste this birthday bouquet.

There isn’t even a piece of tape on this present. All the corners of the paper have been folded into pockets of itself, so no tape is necessary. Easy to unfold too! Much easier than the ribbon. Frisk rolls out their mom’s present, which by the shape of it is a book.

“I woke up human,” they read from the title.

“The Librarby got it in just yesterday. It’s a very cute little fairy tale that I think you’ll enjoy reading for your siblings.” Toriel gives Frisk a peck on their forehead. “Happy birthday again, my child.”

“Thank you, mom!”

They balance the book on top of the three tail brushes from their siblings.

“My gift will arrive a bit later,” Asgore informs while casting a glance at the wall-mounted clock. “So is it okay if I pick one from here for now?”

The table nods.

“Alright then.” He closes his eyes and shoves his hand into the small pile of gifts. It emerges with a rounded package which he hands over. “Happy birthday, Frisk.”

“Thank you, dad!”

This must be the package Chara kicked in the hallway. The paper has a rip in it, which looks like to be from Chara’s toe. Frisk spins it around so that they don’t catch any more glimpses of what could be inside.

They undo the white ribbon and hand over the blue flower to Asriel who places it in the vase. The castle paper comes clean off after Frisk removes a piece of tape, and from inside a subtle green glow begins seeping out.

“It’s a little terrarium made out of Echo Flowers and Echo Crystals from Waterfall,” Aofil explains as they gently tap it with a claw to make it light up. “They’re arranged in the shape of Home how it looks from the lookout. Since the Echo Flowers and Echo Crystals have memory magic, I put my memory how Home looks from up here into it, and it formed as I thought very hard about it.” They mimic the process by clenching their fists and eyes hard with their head shaking slightly. They breathe out and in. “Kinda like that.”

“How nice,” says Toriel with a pat on Aofil’s head.

“And not only Home!” Asriel sticks his head inside the gift pile, his tail swinging around as he rummages around. “But Waterfall too!” he exclaims as he emerges from the pile with another rounded shape in his hand.

“And Hotland as well!” Chara adds after finding their rounded present too.

Toriel chokes a proud exhale. “Oh my.”

“Then I’ll go make Snowdin!” Frisk finishes as they jump up on their feet in their chair. “It’s from that shop in Home, right? And we’re gonna go past it later today, right?” They turn their sparkling look over to Toriel and Asgore. “Can I do it then, mom? Dad? Please?”

Asgore nods. “I’m sure we can make a slight detour for that since we’ll be walking around there a bit.” He winks at Aofil, who’s cheeks begin blushing.

“That we can,” Toriel agrees. “How about you open those two last presents then so that we can arrange them with Snowdin when we get home. We’ll save the rest of the presents for later.” She stands up. “I’ll go fetch the pie.”

Chara and Aofil jumps down from their chairs to help, but Frisk grabs them at their collars. They look back at Frisk, who’s looking at them with watery eyes. “Can I give them my present now?” they plead with their voice quivering.

“Of course you can, Frisk.” Toriel nods at her husband to follow with her instead into the kitchen, and he does so with a wide smile.

Once inside the kitchen though, he looks over his shoulder to his children huddling up around Frisk. His brow furrows for a moment, “A present from Frisk?” but it floats back up again as he shakes his proud head. “Can’t indulge themselves for one day without giving back, can they?”

“Well, technically it is a present from the two of us,” Toriel explains as she begins stacking plates in her hands. “If that makes you feel better.”

“The two of us?” His mighty brow furrows again, but just as before, it quickly shoots up.

However, it doesn’t stop.

It goes up.

And up.

And up.

Until his entire forehead’s wrinkled and hidden underneath his yellow hair. His mouth does the opposite, and moves downwards until it is almost unhinged.

Toriel knows the look Asgore is giving her now.

She’s seen it four times before.

Maybe it would be a good idea for her to put down the plates before he-

“Do you...”

Yes, she should.

With all six plates secured the furthest from the countertop’s edge as possible, Toriel takes a solemn breath. “I feel them, Gorey.”

And Frisk does too. “We’re getting another sibling.”

A quiet moment falls upon the house. Stunned, thoughtful. An unbelievable silence that the entire world can hear.

Husband staring in overwhelming joy. “You do?”

Siblings staring in overwhelming excitement. “We are?”

Two slow nods.

And then hugging.

Asgore’s large and sturdy arms flow underneath Toriel’s shoulder. He picks her up so gently that not even the air around her makes any resistance for his show of affection. He lets her fall into the security of his torso and beard, where he nestles her in with all the care he can summon. Where her, and their new child, could never be hurt. Where he will protect them for all eternity. Where he can make sure they’ll never meet any dangers!

“I love you so much, Tori!”

She laughs with his voice choked with emotions, but hers waver as well.

Because she does too!

“I love you so much, Gorey!”

She never wants to leave his warmth. With his arms around her, and his soul burning with love underneath his chest, all for her. How is she so lucky to have him? The children they have together? The one that’s on its way to join their wonderful family?

Asgore leans his nose down for her, and she meets it. She locks her lips onto his.

And she never wants to let go ever again.

“Wooow.”

That’s all Asriel can say, really.

He’s trying to have it all sink in. It’s not any easier despite it being the...um...fourth time now. Three, technically, since he didn’t know that he’d get two little siblings the first time around.

“Wooow,” Aofil and Chara repeats in a similar deep exhale.

The four children lie flat on their backs on the floor with their horns touching in a circle. Aofil to Frisk, to Chara, to Asriel, to Aofil again.

“I wonder what fur they will have.”

“Me too!”

“I want them to be white, like Asriel’s.”

“Maybe they’ll be dark-brown? Since Asriel is the oldest, and he’s white. Then me and Chara, and then you, Frisk.”

“...I’ve never thought about that before.”

“What about their horns?”

The siblings touch their own at the same time, like a drilled salute.

“Dark-brown fur with white horns would be really cool.”

They all nod.

“Maybe they’ll have a long tail too!”

“An even longer than Frisk’s!”

“Then it’s good that we have three brushes for that! Frisk can use one, and our new sibling will have to use two!”

A joint giggle has the siblings’ horns tapping at each other.

“I hope they like to catch snails.”

“I hope they like to catch butterflies.”

“I hope they like to catch fireflies.”

“I hope they like to catch me.”

Asriel turns their head over to Frisk. “Catch me?”

“If you can!” Frisk pokes at Asriel’s nose. “Snoot tag! You’re it!”

They scramble up on their paws and bolt for the door squealing with glee. They’re followed closely behind by Chara, but not Aofil.

Their toes get stuck in the living room carpet as they stand up, and they fall over flat on their stomach. A groaned bleat is pushed out of them from the impact.

Asriel taps at the beige and wrinkled nose as he passes by. “Tag, Aofil.”

“Not fair!” Aofil bleats again after him as he also hurries out the door. After some flailing and tugging, they manage to unhook their toe claw from the fabric of the carpet. It’s gonna serve them better outside since they can dig in their toes deeper into the gravel and grass and get better grip in their turns, so this will be the first and only time they’re tagged today!

Long and silent minutes pass by in the quiet house. Left inside are now just Toriel and Asgore, sitting together on the kitchen floor leaning into each other as much as they can.

A wayward laughter from Chara tagging Asriel finds its way around the house and through the half opened kitchen window. Toriel opens her eyes slowly, and she puffs the back of her head against her husband’s chin. “I’ll go check on them outside.”

He gives her a kiss before he helps her stand up again. “You do that, my love. I’ll put on some tea in the meanwhile.”

A sigh passes through Toriel’s lips as she leans herself against the opened frame of the front door. She blinks, but she’s not awakened from this dreamy visage before her. Her four children laughing and playing together in the garden on this beautiful birthday morning. It’s real. It’s all so real, and it’s all so wonderful.

She could stand here for hours on end.

“Who’s it?” her husband wonders after a couple of minutes as he hands her a cup of freshly brewed Golden Flower tea which she takes in both her hands.

“I think Frisk is it,” she answers through another relaxed sigh.

“On their birthday?” Asgore shrugs before taking his first sip. He’s only allowed to drink with one hand, as his other one is sandwiched between his wife’s cheek and sighing shoulder. “Well, if there was any monster that would be happy to be it during their birthday, it would be Frisk.”

Toriel blows a kiss towards the playing Boss Monsters. “Happy birthday, my child.”

Asgore blows one as well. “Happy birthday, my child.”


	171. Cake and Muffin

“You wouldn’t mind if I took with me Aofil for a slight detour, Tori?”

Toriel turns her head over to her husband, the dangling flower in her halo following along half a second afterwards. “I don’t see why not.” She moves her eyes over her shoulder, to her laughing children playing in the wagon Asgore is dragging behind him. “Although you’ll have more difficulty convincing them that you only need Aofil.”

Frisk’s muzzle wrinkles back and forth as they try and discern who’s claw just booped them. Their brow furrows, wrinkling as much as their moldable nose can. Some of their fangs bare as they snarl in thought. With their head tilted back, they mutter to themselves.

“Chara?” is their guess, which they eagerly shoot over with an accusing finger pointed at Chara’s snickering visage. They shake their head, and Frisk’s finger droops in defeat.

“It was me,” Aofil reveals with a dastardly laugh. Even with their pretend deep voice theirs is still the most melodic one. Not as confident as Chara, nor as soft as Frisk, and certainly not as bleating as Asriel’s.

“It’s because of your curiosity,” Toriel’s explained many times over. “You’ve asked so many questions that the little falsetto at the end of you asking one has taken over completely. You’re always curious, so your voice is too, my child.”

The wagon bounces against a wayward rock in the road, almost sending the four children bleating over the red-painted edges. They stay inside by holding onto each other, but only barely. The rock apologizes before slinking away, and the four blinking Boss Monsters burst into a joint and relieved laughter.

Next up in turn to get booped is Asriel, who closes his eyes while he tenses his white muzzle. His closed eyes toughen up as he feels a...dull...claw touch his nose, and he nods as he thinks. “Hm...” He drums his fingers on his legs as he tilts his head back like Frisk did before throwing his own accusing claw.

“Aofil again!”

They shake their head.

Frisk boops Asriel victoriously. “It was me this time.”

The Boss Monster parents smile at their four children playing. No one could ever guess that one of them is having their birthday today. Nor could anyone ever. They’re always equal to each other, even more so with them all being the same age again. Just another day of being siblings, and it being the best day since yesterday. Toriel and Asgore are proud. Proud as only parents can be. Proud of their kids, and proud of their significant other for being there. The two halves that have made such beautifully varied wholes.

“So how do you plan to convince them?” Toriel pries curiously with a teasing wink of her eyebrows. “I’m sure Aofil will want to be there when Frisk makes the memory terrarium of Snowdin.”

“Could you save that one for last so Aofil and I can meet up?” Asgore asks back while motioning over the silhouette of Home to his wife. He draws with his finger where he intends to go with Aofil, more to the right of the city rather than left where the Echo Shop is. “I’ll head straight to the Spider Cafe with them, pick up the cake, and then we’ll take a shortcut through the Fountain and be with you when you get to the Echo Shop.”

That all sounds good to Toriel, but there’s still something that she’d want to know. “Do you need them to read the road signs, prince?” she pesters before rolling up a finger in Asgore’s beard to show that she was only jesting. “But in all honesty, my love, why do you need Aofil with you? Isn’t it better if they help me with carrying? The terrarium might be a bit too cumbersome to fit inside my basket.”

Asgore throws a look over his mighty shoulder to his kids playing with some pebbles they’ve scooped up, making small statues to see which one is the sturdiest and can withstand the rocky ride downhill into Home. “You know the little spider girl at the Spider Cafe, Tori?” He nods as subtly as he can to Aofil, who’s first statue falls apart instantly, prompting a drained scowl on their face which no one would feel anything else but melting adorableness to.

They’re up again at it immediately after though after an encouraging pat from Asriel.

“Yes,” Toriel replies while also looking behind her. “The one with the red dress and the black pigtails in her hair?”

Asgore angles his knowing smile to Toriel, who meets it with her mouth opened in realization.

It takes only a second for her motherly instincts to reveal it all to her, and she giggles with her hand failing to cover her mouth. “Well, well, well.” She turns forwards again as she inhales a deep and content sigh that she lets flutter towards Home. “A little spider girl for our Aofil.”

“Yup.”

“It’s a first for any of our children.” Toriel’s brow furrows in slight thought, which was inevitable. “Are you sure that they are...you know?”

“You were the one that pointed it out to me,” Asgore answers as he sways around another rock poking out of the road. The slithering motion has the somewhat stable statues standing on the wagon collapsing into a tiny lake of pebbles. Four pair of glaring eyes shoot all the huffed anger they can muster against his back, but it’s like a feather trying to knock down a boulder. They didn’t really mean it to begin with, to be honest, as they immediately after burst into giggling seeing the expressions of their siblings. They point and they laugh.

After catching their breath, they try and make even angrier and huffed expressions, but as before, it quickly devolves into laughing which has their stomachs hurting from the intensity of it. They collapse just like their statues, and whirl around while grasping their stomachs.

“I did?” Toriel perks while thinking about it. She doesn’t remember when she said something specifically about Aofil being in love. That she hasn’t noticed it is quite worrisome though. 

Her children keeping secrets from her?

That can’t do!

She’s their mother, she’s supposed to know everything about them.

“You told me that Aofil had the same look I had when I first saw you,” Asgore explains with a rolling motion of his hand. “Remember? When we visited the Spider Cafe a month or so ago for its anniversary?”

Toriel’s ears lift as she realizes. “Oh!” They come back down though as she challenges that notion with a pair of squinted eyes sent to correct her husband’s assumption. “I meant the way Aofil looked at the pastries. They’ve got your stomach, that’s what I meant.”

Asgore’s mouth hangs over for a couple of stunned seconds before his body loosens up and he shrugs without thinking, lifting up the front of the wagon in the process, and almost pouring out his children onto the ground. They all throws their arms up squealing in excitement though. 

Normally he only does that when mom isn’t around.

“I thought you meant how they looked at the spider girl.” Asgore chuckles, the warmth of it overcoming Toriel’s hard furrow back at the wagon which her husband almost spilled their children out of. “But it doesn’t really matter, since they pretty much confessed it earlier today after I’d met up with Gerson.”

“Concluded,” Toriel whispers through a titter all for herself.

“So I’m sure they want to meet up with the spider girl again,” Asgore hazards by the virtue of his fatherly instincts. They’ve seldom gone astray.

Although Toriel would certainly want to debate that.

Which is why Asgore isn’t bringing it up.

“Call me if it looks like Aofil wants to, well, spend a little more time with the spider.” Toriel motions over with her hand to another part of Home. “I can take the three to some other stores and let them gawk through the windows like they always do.”

“Sounds good.”

“But again,” Toriel reminds as she adjusts her picnic basket hanging from the bend of her arm, “it is the children that you will have a hard time convincing to pluck Aofil away from, my dear. It’s hard to convince a soul to let go of its parts, and the four are more bound together than even your powerful one, Gorey.” She puts her large and fuzzy white hand over her chest. “I can’t imagine how they’ll be with the fifth.

Asgore holds his hand over his wife’s for a long moment before he flicks at the flower hanging spryly over Toriel’s face. “I’m sure I can concoct something up.” He waggles his eyebrow playfully. “I convinced you to marry me, didn’t I?”

“Oh I only did it so I could teach you how to read road signs,” Toriel replies before bumping her nose against Asgore offering his. “Can’t have a prince wander confusingly around outside the castle. Gotta keep up a presence, even if I had to carry the entire weight of the castle on my shoulders.”

“And now I can take a child with me and explore Home.”

“Of course you can,” Toriel admits with another lovingly tender bounce against her husband’s muzzle. “You’ll have Aofil to read the signs for you, my forever prince.”

The downhill calms down as the purple border of Home begins to surround the Boss Monster family. Trees in various autumn colors give way to the bright purple cobble and brickwork carefully laid to make a home out of Home.

Through the crossing rivers of walking monsters flowing in and around each other to create a shimmering rainbow that molds and shifts by the plumage, scales, and furs of the monsters walking by. Waves come and go on this combined lake as different monster heights make ebb and flows as they’re either forced to duck underneath bricked arcs or jump up the stairs leading up to different levels of deep purple made gradient by the long shadows cast from the crystals hanging above the surrounding buildings.

Chara, Asriel, Aofil, and Frisk all stare with bated breaths to the many shapes and colors passing their red wagon by. Amused smiles both similar to theirs, and so widely different all they can do is gasp in surprise before smiling back, look down, and in a few cases up, to the exotic smiles. Asgore and Toriel patiently greet the monsters wishing them their warmest.

“King Asgore.”

“A pleasure.”

“Queen Toriel.”

“From me too.”

This amount of attention is always so engaging for the siblings to witness. They way their parents move effortlessly through the respect and well wishes they receive, only to give more back to each and every monster.

It has the four children crossing their legs as they sit in awe of their parents, whom so seldom expose their titles when it’s just with their family. In public though, the king and queen radiate with such warmth and love that it almost rivals what they give to their own kids.

“You think we’ll be doing the same when we grow up?” asks Aofil as they grips their ankles with their fuzzy hands. “When we’re all royals as adults?”

Their siblings shrug at the question.

“Maybe.”

“I think so.”

“I think so too.”

Frisk scratches their cheek with a careful claw. “The best way would be that mom and dad stay king and queen though, since they’re so good at it.”

They get a unanimous three-way agreement in the shape of wild nods that have six floppy ears swinging just as wildly. Without saying another word, they all decide to sit silent and watch their parents wave and bow like it’s second nature, stopping just short of hugging, since they have somewhere to go at the moment.

A somewhere that leads them to a rather empty crossroads where Asgore halts the wagon, and motions for his children to sit on a nearby bench while Toriel rummages out six snail sandwiches for the family to eat now that they’ve managed to get down the hill to Home. Chara and Frisk bite down hungrily, while Aofil and Asriel first nibble on a corner to try and guess which particular species of snail it is.

“It tastes like Waterfall snails,” Aofil guesses after swallowing. “What do you think, Asriel?”

He needs a few more round bites before he can make his guess. His chin and cheeks move in a circle wide enough for him to spread out the snails across his entire tongue and mouth, but not enough that he starts smacking his lips. He licks them though to get the last lingering taste, but it still doesn’t ring any bells for him. He’ll need a bit more. “I’ll have another bite,” he says before munching down on another corner. He slurps in a snail about to fall out of his sandwich, which luckily mom didn’t see.

Toriel and Asgore sit down on a bench opposite the small fountain shaped like a Froggit. “Do you want me to say anything to help?” Toriel offers before taking a bite out of her sandwich. Her mouth barely moves as she chews. She was very quick to take to soul the manners of being a Royal when she married Asgore, and she’s carried them with her with pride ever since. She’ll have to wait though for an answer since Asgore is already on his second bite, with Toriel halting his third one with her question. He patiently chews as he waits for Toriel to finish too.

With his mouth bouncing around like it’s the last food he’ll ever eat.

As usual.

“I think it might be best if you withheld mentioning anything about the window gazing from Aofil,” he begins after swallowing the last piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth. Asgore then points over to the right with his half-eaten sandwich. “The best plan would probably be if you call the children to continue the trip, and then when you almost round the corner I’ll call for Aofil to come and help me. If you’re already on your way somewhere I don’t think they would want to hold you up. They’ll be curious enough to what I want too if they don’t figure it out immediately.”

Toriel’s not really sure about the...intricacy...of Asgore’s plan, but the reasoning behind is adorable enough that she’s willing to look past that. She’s trusted him with worse, after all. With a nod, she leans onto his shoulder as she takes another bite of her food. “Before you leave though,” Toriel voices a bit concernedly after swallowing her bite. “I have something I must give you.” From the basket she produces a handkerchief for Asgore to use. “I almost laid my head on a piece of snail, Gorey,” she informs her mess of a husband without emotion.

Asgore makes a cleansing swipe so that Toriel can nuzzle herself deeper into his beard without the fear of staining her glistening white fur. She does so after giving him a peck on his cheek for a reward, and spills some crumbs on the beard she wanted to clean up after taking a third bite.

Asgore sighs out of his nose as he takes a bite himself.

What a mess of a wife he has.

“I think Waterfall too,” Asriel finally guesses after almost a minute of chewing on his second bite. Most of it was spent mulling on his other question though. “How come you made your guess so quickly, Aofil?”

Aofil puts their palm next to their cheek while they lift up Asriel’s ears with their other hand. “I saw the container mom used for the sandwiches.”

“No way!” Asriel throws his arms up, with his sandwich almost slipping out of his hands in his defeated gesture. “That’s...That’s cheating, Aofil!”

No, it’s not.

Because Asriel did it the last time!

“Told you Aofil cheated,” whispers Chara to Frisk, but loudly enough so that Aofil and Asriel can hear. Aofil’s muzzle pouts, but it only prompts an extended tongue from their twin.

The four siblings return to their sandwiches, muttering.

Then louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until it’s the four of them bleating nonsense with each bite.

Toriel looks up at her husband through her eyelashes. “That’s your half, dear,” she says with all the love she can give.

But Asgore’s too busy with enjoying the rest of his sandwich made by his loving wife to hear what she said. “Of course, Tori,” he answers as default.

She chuckles at it all, content, and enjoys herself another mouthful of snail sandwich. She’s eating for two now again, after all. Then Toriel’s gonna close her eyes for a bit now that she has the chance. She’s walking for two as well. Just gonna drift away for a few minutes in her husband’s beard, as if resting on a golden cloud. 

Just for a few minutes.

Just…for...a...few…

Her nose instinctively burrows deeper into Asgore’s beard.

“We’re finished now!” Frisk exclaims as they hurry around the fountain with Chara and Asriel taking the other way around. Chara’s cheeks are too stuffed with the last of their food to say anything, but they nod in agreement when they reach their mom and dad with their siblings. “Where are we going next?”

Toriel brushes off some crumbs from her husband’s beard with the back of her white hand as she sits up. She’s not sure how long it’s been, but it’s been long enough that she feels rested. She gently jostles Asgore’s shoulder, but he’s already awake. He appreciates the thought though, and hands Toriel her weaved basket as he stands up. She takes it with a gentle kneel, and puts it alongside her clasped hand in front of her. “We’ll be taking a little walk, if that’s alright with you, my children. Your father will be picking up something he ordered very special from the Spider Cafe, and then we’ll meet with him at the Echo Shop.”

Aofil swallows.

Spider...Cafe?

They glance over to their father, who winks as subtly as he can. It’s as subtle as turning off the lamp in a brightly lit room though, and the rest of his children catch onto it.

“Is it a cake?” Asriel asks eagerly with his fists balled against his cheeks.

Spider cake.

Wait, hasn’t Aofil heard of that before?

The last birthday, right? The one they had with...Chara?

Ow, their head is hurting a bit. “Can I have some water?” they ask of their mother, who hands them a glass which she fills up from a jug with a couple of Golden Flower petals floating inside. It pushes the hurt away, and Aofil breathes out relaxed.

“Could be,” Asgore teases with another wink. It doesn’t look like Aofil has the courage to want to follow along on their own accord. Maybe they’ll think that if they ask, one of their siblings will want to follow too. Asgore nods to Toriel that the two should stick to the plan they discussed, and she breathes in to speak while she puts Aofil’s glass back into the basket.

“Stay close now, children,” she says before walking over to the fork in the road leading into a street flanked with large, purple buildings. “We don’t want to get lost amid the streets.”

Asgore waits until Toriel’s rounded the corner until…

“Oh, Aofil?” he shouts after his family. “Could I take you along with me, please?”

Chara, Asriel, and Frisk look at their sibling, who chuckles with their cheeks blossoming with bashfulness. They let go Asriel and Chara’s hands like they were made out of thorns, and run back to Asgore with their stung hands pressed against their burning cheeks.

Chara, Asriel, and Frisk look at each other, and then back at their sibling getting scooped up by their dad, and placed onto his shoulder. Aofil waves to their best friends, and they wave back with rather puzzled hands.

What just happened?

“Your father might need an extra pair of hands for the cake,” Toriel offers. She feigns her tongue slipping and spoiling that it was a cake, which should be enough for the three to get their mind tugged away from Aofil for the moment. She fakes a gasp, and puts her hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell your father I said that,” she whispers to her kids lifting their ears up for her.

“We won’t,” they promise together.

Toriel smiles as she nods once. “Good. The wagon is a bit too wobbly for a cake, so dad needs a pair of hands to hold it up. Why he chose Aofil I don’t know, but it could just as well have been any other of you. You’ll keep quiet about it though, since Aofil will probably feel a bit conflicted over knowing a secret that you three don’t. Can you do that for me?”

The combined slap from three Boss Monster ears hitting the rounded, furry cheeks echo out between the purple stone buildings. “We promise, mom!”

Toriel allows herself a victorious smile, but it is rather conflicted. She shouldn’t really be working her children like this, but she also knows the heartache from being in love without being able to make do with it. Oh, those weeks were the most painful she’s ever had in her life, and she’d never wish that upon anyone else, especially not one of her own soul and magic. The children will understand, they’re smart, and they love Aofil enough to forgive Toriel for her lie.

She’ll get them all some Nice Cream on the way.

It is Aofil Toriel’s still a bit worried about though. Hopefully they’ll be able to work up enough courage to not flee in terror when that spider pet comes out to...greet...them, but if even Chara bleats in childish terror then…

She looks around the corner to Aofil bobbing along above a pair of hedges, and she gives them a proud and motherly nod.

“Good luck, my child,” she whispers encouragingly. “Prove to yourself that you can handle this.”

Aofil ducks underneath an overpass with some interested monsters looking down while whispering amusingly. They pay it no mind.

With the thoughts popping around in their head they can’t afford to.

“D-dad?”

He can’t help but chuckle at his child’s shaking voice. Not against Aofil, but with them. Oh dear, oh dear. So much innocent worry and yet so much unconstrained eagerness battling for supremacy. Like two great shows of magic clashing together. It’s warms the very depths of Asgore’s soul, and he hugs Aofil between his hand and head.

“Aofil,” he addresses tenderly despite his booming voice. “My sweet and innocent Aofil. You remind me so of myself when I first met your mother. You must really fancy this spider girl.”

Aofil can’t say anything back, only tug and twist at their sweater while looking away. Their blossoming cheeks tell of their woes though, as well as their tail curling up into itself. Asgore stretches it out again, and puffs it up between his fingers. “You have nothing to worry about, my child,” he continues as he steps one foot behind him to let a monster crab past him in the narrow alley. “Nothing at all. The spider girl...” He looks up to Aofil glancing back at him over their tensed shoulder. “Muffet, right?”

Aofil nods into their ears that they’ve swooped in over their eyes.

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy hearing that you like her.”

“D...Do you have to say it out loud?” Aofil whispers underneath their father’s ear. They let it lay heavy on their head for comfort, because they’re starting to feel a bit anxious right about now. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all? What if Muffet...doesn’t like them? Maybe… What if…

Weather the pain, Asgore.

Do it for you child.

Ignore them squeezing and rolling your ear like they’re wringing the last drops out of a wet towel.

The last drops of a dry towel, even.

It’s very hard. Aofil’s squeezing and turning your large and white ear very hard, but you did the same with it when you had the same thoughts about Toriel. The endless what ifs and ever more endless maybes. More than you could ever count.

Weather the pain.

Aofil leans their head to rest on their father’s horn as they heave a weary sigh that has his golden hair parting to reveal his white fur underneath. They try and angle his comforting ear up to them so they can rest their chin on it, but that’s a bit too much.

“It hurts a bit,” Asgore makes known very carefully. “Aofil? Child?”

“Oh!” Aofil lets go of the screwed up ear, and it spins back into its original shape as it ungraciously smacks back at Asgore’s cheek. He massages it, but it is very tender at the moment. He drags a sharp inhale through his nose, which is all he’s going to do against the hurt.

“H...How did you do when you met mom?” Aofil leans their head down to Asgore’s eyes while holding tightly on their father’s horn. “It’s not exactly the same now since Muffet is a spider, but...” They don’t even know what they’re saying at this point. They’re too anxious and unnerved. Asgore can feel it by the way they’re gripping his horn. Not tightly because they don’t want to fall off his shoulder, but tightly because they don’t want to let go of it.

“It is more similar than you think,” Asgore begins after giving his child’s cheek a reassuring rub with his own. “Since I also met mom at a cafe of sorts. A tavern, as it was called back in the day, but it was similar enough.”

Aofil nods hard, their fringe and ears tossing about as if a storm is blowing through them. The glimmer in their eyes shift ever so slightly from worry to their signature curiosity. Like a funnel turning into a straight pipe, everything that they’ll hear now will be poured directly into their mind with no stoppage whatsoever. 

Which means Asgore needs to choose his words extremely carefully so that Aofil doesn’t say too much to their mother afterwards. It’s a blessing for them, no doubt about it, but it can easily be turned into a curse for both Asgore and Toriel. 

More so Asgore than Toriel, as it turns out.

“I met your mother during a parade.”

Aofil’s brow furrows as their father pauses to think long and hard. It prompts them to do the same, and good thing too, because a thought hits them. It was kinda like a parade during the anniversary of the Spider Cafe, right? Maybe they’ll find more similarities when Asgore finds his words again?

“It was like when you saw the spider girl, Aofil, as I said before. I couldn’t stop thinking of her when the parade was over. I knew where she was, but I couldn’t get to her. When I did, I just stumbled on my words.”

“But,” Aofil protests like they always do when someone in their family talks down on themselves. A trait they’ve most likely picked up from Frisk. “When you do your speeches to the monsters everyone always applauds afterwards.”

Asgore chuckles heartily. “They mostly do that out of obligation. Your mother when I first saw her though, she was, still is,” he adds hurriedly, “so beautiful that I couldn’t think of anything or anyone else. There were so many things I wanted to say to her when I first met her properly that all the words piled up inside my throat. My tongue didn’t work since it can only say one thing at a time, but I needed to say a thousand.”

Aofil nods with their hand pushed up underneath their chin to take everything their dad says in. They’ll have to make sure that they only want to say one thing to Muffet so that they can actually say it, that’s come across easily to them. But what to say exactly? “What happened afterwards?” they ask to their father smiling nostalgically. “When you could actually say something to mom? What did you say?”

Oh, how you know how to touch nerves you didn’t even know existed, child.

Asgore sighs. No idea holding back the truth since Toriel will be all too happy explaining what really happened in more vivid detail than Asgore ever could. Won’t do Aofil any good with their spider girl if Asgore stretches the truth either. He takes a steadying breath.

“She...threw me out.”

A long pause hangs between father and child.

“She did?”

Asgore’s mood jumps back up seeing his kid wide-eyed and mouth agape in complete surprise. A completely new experience for them that Asgore gets to witness. What bliss. What joy for him to share with his child. Bonding together over the failures of the previous generation to strengthen the next.

If only Asgore didn’t have to deluge how completely hopeless he was to talking to girls when he was younger.

Never a light without a shadow.

Unfortunately.

“Not literally, of course. She politely, yet very firmly, asked me to leave.”

Wait...how is this gonna help Aofil?

Best to perhaps hurry through this part.

For multiple reasons.

“Then, when I was standing outside the tavern thinking about what I did wrong, she peeked her head out the door and gave me a chance to explain myself. I told her that I saw her during the parade and that I wondered if the two of us could spend some time together. I offered to get her some good wine, and she reluctantly accepted.”

Even with Asgore being biased against himself he still can’t describe Toriel’s first acceptance as anything else but reluctant.

Aofil nods with their hand pushing harder against their chin. So they should offer to help, perhaps? Help Muffet with something. But what?

Asgore allows Aofil a couple of seconds to think. Judging by their very loud humming they’re certainly giving it a lot of thought. They’re really serious about this, and that amuses Asgore to no end. Last time they were this deep in thought was when Toriel asked them what they’d like for their birthday.

Aofil spent almost two full hours sitting on the bench in Asgore’s garden thinking about it. Fully focused, and completely still. There were butterflies surveying from their horns when Asgore came over with some tea for them. 

“Then when you and mom met again, what happened then?” Aofil pries.

Before Asgore can answer he needs to put his hand over his child so that the two of them can duck underneath a brick bridge. Shouldn’t be too long now to the Spider Cafe, according to the white road signs at the corners of the purple buildings.

Which Asgore can read very clearly, thank you very much.

“We talked.”

Just...talked? “Just talked?”

“Yeah.”

“And then?”

“We talked some more.”

“About what?”

“About anything, really.”

“Just anything?”

“Just anything.”

Truth be told, Asgore doesn’t remember. He knows that Toriel and he talked, and that they talked for hours, but about what he’s forgotten. More likely is that he never remembered in the first place since he was so enthralled by her. By her form, by her voice, by her character. Aofil is still a bit too young for Asgore to explain those feelings he had back then. It is something both Asgore and Toriel should talk with all their children about together, not one in particular.

It seems that Aofil still goes along, at the very least, as they again push their knuckles into their chin to try and process what Asgore’s told them. They look vacant, but they’re as busy as any monster could ever be. Asgore will let them simmer on what he’s said for a bit. Should be enough time until he reaches the Spider Cafe.

Anything.

Anything…

An...y...thing…

How is Aofil gonna plan for anything?

They cross their arms since putting their hand under their chin has stopped working for them. The large and warm arm and hand of their caring father comes up to hold their back so that they don’t fall now that they’ve let go of his horn. He begins humming on a tune, and his deep voice reverberates both in his aura and through his body. It’s like a securing blanket for Aofil.

But back to anything.

It can mean anything.

And anything is hard.

Since it is anything.

Aofil can talk about something someone asks them about for hours, but if they’re asked to talk about anything, then they always do like dad did and try and say too many things at once so that nothing comes out.

So how are they gonna plan for anything?

Is Muffet even gonna want to talk about anything?

What if she doesn’t?

Then what is left if anything isn’t working?

Nothing?

But then…

Asgore gives Aofil a reassuring pat on their back. He can feel their doubt from all the way through his large body and into his soul. It’s like a shower of sour tea that they’re spilling all over him. He lets them though, since he knows that taste very well from before. “You don’t have to worry, child,” he comforts while massaging one of Aofil’s ears between his fingers. “You can’t really plan this out. Instead of listening to your head, you should be listening to your soul. It’ll tell you exactly what to say.” He gently bends Aofil down to his fuzzy muzzle. “I promise you.” He pecks his child’s nose with his own. “Snoot.”

“Hoot,” Aofil says back as they hug their father’s muzzle and surrounding beard. Their finger begins twirling inside it though as they hang their hug further. “I’m a bit scared, dad. Just a bit. Maybe two bits.” They drag their golden wrapped finger out, and release the spooled beard back with a twang. “Both in my head, and in my soul.”

“That’s because you like Muffet in both your head and soul, Aofil. One of them, if not both, is worried about what will happen when you first meet her, and that’s why you are worried as a whole, my child. It’s a good worry though. You wouldn’t worry if Muffet was someone you didn’t care about, right?”

Aofil nods timidly, their cheek brushing against the top of Asgore’s muzzle that they lie on. They tuck in their knees, and Asgore gently lets them slide into one of his large arms. Normally Aofil does that with Toriel, twirling their claws together as they push themselves into her soft torso. Asgore’s never had Aofil do it with him before, not even when they were small enough to fit inside Asgore’s hand.

He caresses them just as gently as he did when they were, and lifts them up into his beard where they can feel the most securest. Not for long though, since there’s a gentle and freshly baked smell beginning to surround the two. “We’re just a block away from the Spider Cafe now, Aofil,” Asgore relays after sampling the air with his might nose.

They grip two handfuls of golden hair in response, and Asgore makes sure to keep his head very still so that there’s no unnecessary tugging.

“It might be for the better if you walk on your own there, don’t you think? Gotta make a good first impression, and being your own monster is always good to show, my child.”

“C-can I hold your hand, at least?” Aofil wonders after a loud gulp. “Please, dad?” They relax their hands around the golden chin-locks, and Asgore straightens his back to its full, impressive length. He coaxes Aofil off his arm, and offers only his hand instead. They take two of his white fingers, which is all they can warp their small, beige hand around, and squeezes them tightly. They have to hold their arm as far up as they can to reach, and still they’re almost lifted up with each step Asgore takes.

The feeling begins to stir inside of them.

If they’re old enough to hold their dad’s hand and walk on their own at the same time, then they should be old enough to talk to a new friend. A new best friend. Different kind of best friend than what they are with their siblings. A spider best friend.

...Is there more than a best friend?

A sweet aroma envelops Aofil, and they stiffen like a scared pillar as it flows into their nose which clamps down just afterwards. Their eyes shoot open, and they emit a high and startled bleat.

“It’ll be fine,” Asgore reassures by squeezing his finger over his child’s hand to comfort them. “You’ll do fine, Aofil.”

They close their eyes as they breathe in hard through their nose and mouth. With their built up courage they let go of their dad’s fingers, and stomp ahead with determined steps towards the entrance of the Spider Cafe. For a second, they rest the flat of their hand against the door, before they push it open, and-

“Muffin.”

Aofil falls back with their hands and arms pushed out in front of them, bleating in fear as a large tongue whips out against their face. They crash onto the cobble with the slobbering spider pet throwing its tongue against them again, and again. It rains saliva on their terrified face, and they toss and turn their head side to side to try and get away from it. Their arms begin to shake from the weight of the pet, but they dare not open their eyes. What they hear from the spider pet...it’s so scary! It’s like the book Chara read out loud a week ago!

About the evil monster that turns children into pies if they’re naughty! Licking the pie until there is nothing but an empty tray left!

Aofil doesn’t want to be turned into a pie and get eaten!

Noooooooooooo!

Dad! Help!

“Muffin!”

The pet halts for a brief moment, giving Aofil the opportunity to try and roll it off of them. The spider pet bounces as it lands, which gives Aofil time to scramble up on their paws and run behind their father’s wide legs. They grip the back of his robe, and peek terrified around to the dazed spider pet shaking its head so that saliva flies all over the place. Small puddles form between the crevices of the cobble road.

Asgore laughs heartily as he helps his child dry themselves off on his robe. “Just like I did,” he offers warmly with a wink.

Just like…

Yes.

Yes!

Aofil’s scared frown beams into a smile.

It’s just the same!

But…

They don’t want to play with the pet.

“Did Muffin scare you?” comes a curious voice from the other side of Asgore’s legs. Aofil peeks around with their head, but no one’s there. They peek around the other side, but no one’s there either. They’re sure they heard someone say something, but-

There’s a gentle tap on their head.

They look up.

“Did he?”

And fly back with a surprised bleat.

The small spider girl swings down from Asgore’s back. He turns around with an amused and bewildered expression stretching his lips and raised eyebrows. He didn’t see her climb up. He didn’t even feel her. Where did she come from? Where did the spider girl… Spider? Wait, perhaps she repelled down with some string then? Asgore runs a hand over his head to check. He catches a thread of sorts on the tip of his horn, and rubs it off on his robe’s shoulder.

What a curious little monster, swinging from the king’s horn like that without asking.

Muffet leans over Aofil with four of her hands behind her back and with her middle hands folded underneath her round and lightly purple chin. Her face is the right side now unlike it was before. She blinks with her five eyes simultaneously, and Aofil drags a gasp seeing it. “Are you here to pick up the cake?” she asks as she squats down, her two pig tails following along like two large and black bells that toll silently as they bounce to a halt. “Mom’s got it inside the store if you want to pick it up,” she says to Asgore despite looking inquisitively at Aofil. She blinks again as she touches their beige nose.

“Hoot,” Aofil says in reflex, prompting a very perplexed expression from Muffet.

Asgore lifts himself up on his toes to look over the red dress containing the peculiar spider, meeting the confused and frightened eyes of his child between the swaying pig tails as Muffet bounces playfully on her squatted knees. “Hoot?” she wonders out loud. “But where are your wings then?”

Toriel is gonna tear Asgore’s beard off from what he’s about to do, but it’s really the only way he can think of for this to work. This is absolutely not what he had in mind for this encounter to happen, and now there’s really only one way he can see for this to work out.

By letting Aofil fight their own way out of this spider’s web.

Oh, Toriel is gonna take much more than just Asgore’s beard if she finds out. When she finds out, to be honest. However, it is a sacrifice Asgore is willing to make for his child. A sin of a father to aid his child.

He’ll make sure to have a bottle of Royal Purple and some Crystal Cavern cheese at the ready when she finds out.

And some lit candles along with freshly picked flowers arranged for her in a vase on a recently cleaned table inside a recently cleaned house.

That usually does the trick.

“Thank you, small one,” Asgore says before turning on his heel. In the last moment before his head turns around, he sees the widened eyes of his child close in defeat. “Stay determined,” he whispers before he walks alone to the Spider Cafe with his child left behind in a spider’s web. “Stay determined, Aofil.”

He picks up the recuperated spider pet under his arm before it can go after Aofil again. No need to set the spider’s web on fire as well with the pet.

“What’s your name?” Muffet asks with a smile that exposes a few small fangs underneath her upper lip that tuck underneath the outside of her lower lip. “I’ll tell mine after you tell me yours, since I asked first.”

...Aofil didn’t get to this part with dad. What should they do? What should they say? Anything? “Uh…” trickles out of their hanging mouth like drops out of a thought-to-be closed faucet.

Three out of Muffet’s eyes narrow as she tilts her head sideways, giving her brush-like pigtails another bounce as she does. “Uh?” she asks while her mouth moves around to feel how the name is on her tongue. “What a strange name,” she concludes with eyes narrowed amusingly. “But kinda cute.” One of her hands from behind her back comes up to her mouth. “Ahuhu~” she giggles.

Aofil shakes their head hard, their ears flopping against their cheeks with each rapid shake. “No.”

“Uh No?” Muffet perks along with her raised eyebrows. “Is No your last name? But...your dad is the king, right? Is he King No? When did he change that from Dreemurr?”

“No,” Aofil tries for a second time. They sit up with support on their forearms, since they can’t sit completely upright without head-butting the smiling spider. It hurts when they and their siblings do it, so it would hurt even more for Muffet. “I’m Aofil,” they say with one of their furry hands pushed against their upper purple stripe on their sweater. “That’s my name. Aofil. Aofil Dreemurr.”

Muffet arcs backwards as she straightens her back. “Aofil?” She swings back and forth on her heels as she lets the name stew inside her head for a couple of seconds, giving Aofil time to stand up and brush themselves off. They fold up their jeans over their ankles again, and pat the last cobble-dust out of their hair. “That’s even cuter! Ahuhuhu~”

Like a lit match, Aofil cheeks begin burning intensively. S-s-s-she just called their name cute. Not even cute, but even cuter! Their cleaned sweater wrinkles as they wring it between their hands. “T-thanks. I think your name is cute too, Muffet,” they reply bashfully.

Muffet folds all her arms into a threefold over the height of her dress now pale in comparison to Aofil’s blossoming cheeks. “How do you know my name?”

…

Where’s dad?

Aofil needs to get out of here.

Quick!

Mom! Asriel! Anyone!

Aofil screwed up!

They-

“Oh!” Muffet realizes as she slaps her forehead just above her middle eye. “Mom!” she shouts back at the Spider Cafe’s outside decor of empty tables and chairs. Her hands ball angrily at her sides. She must be pretty angry to ball all six of her hands. Aofil can only do it with two of theirs. “I told you I didn’t want to be on the ad!”

“A-a-actually,” Aofil voices with negative confidence. They grab the tips of their ears and drag them over their cheeks to hide their embarrassment. “I h-heard it when I was at the anniversary of the cafe.”

Muffet gasps, stiffening her entire body like the nearby pillar Aofil should probably go hide behind. Her hands open up as she breathes in, and she turns around.

With the most beautiful smile Aofil has ever seen in their life.

“You were there?” bursts out of the stretched smile creating two deep dimples on her purple cheeks. Her fangs push down like a claw onto soft dough on her chin, and her pigtails rise along with her hands clasped together over her dress. “You were there!”

She throws her arms up, only to come falling over Aofil. Muffet hugs them, with all six of her arms. She pushes her head underneath their furry and bleating chin, which causes her to laugh. “Fuhuhuhu~ You sound so funny. It tickles too. Your fur is soft, not like Muffin’s. His doesn’t tickle though.” Muffet pushes her face hard against Aofil’s shoulder, which causes her to sneeze behind them. It sounds more lighter than how Chara sneezes, despite their best attempts to make it sound more powerful. Muffet’s a bit more accepting of it though, as she giggles before rubbing her face on Aofil’s shoulder again.

S-should Aofil hug back?

They can only do it with two arms instead of six…

Is that enough?

Um…

Slower than a sleeping snail, Aofil lowers their thrown-up arms down against the red dress. They barely touch the silk before Muffet jumps back, and they throw their arms up again as if putting their hands on sharp thorns. “You’re funny, Aofil.” She again puts her hands behind her back, and letting her head dangle from side to side as she snickers at Aofil’s stunned demeanor. “Not like the other Boss Monster children who just scream and run away crying when Muffin wants to say hi.”

“Chara and Asriel?” falls out of Aofil without any thought from them.

“Do you know them?” Muffet pries with two of her right arms scratching at her head. “Are you siblings?”

“Y-yeah,” Aofil says with a timid nod. “It’s me, Chara, Asriel, and Frisk.”

“Frisk...” The name rings a bell for Muffet. “Frisk,” she repeats while grinding her lower lip against the backside of her fangs, almost as if she’s cleaning them. “Oh!” Her five eyes shoot wide open. “Frisk! The name on the cake King Asgore wanted us to make!” She gasps again, making her face fuller yet still thinner as the depths of her dimples become almost like two wells. “Is Frisk your actual sibling? For serious real?”

Another startled bleat falls out of Aofil as Muffet grabs hold of their two arms with all of her six ones. She squeezes them again to produce another bleat to giggle at, but no such luck. She shrugs it off, simultaneously making Aofil do it as well without realizing it. “Can you wish them happy birthday from me? It’s rare that I get to wish the ones that commission the cakes happy birthday, but could you do it from me to Frisk?” Muffet’s hands loosen as she looks down. “M...most of the customers just...don’t want to talk.” She looks over her shoulder with a sigh that pushes her quivering lower lip through the gap between her fangs. “Almost all of them just write a note what they want and push it under the door along with the payment.”

Aofil’s arms feel a bit empty as Muffet lets them go. She hugs herself, rubbing her upper arms as she again looks down with her five eyes. “Then they wait around the corner for mom and I to put the pastry out the door and close it. They grab it and run away. No one wants to stay and talk.”

Aofil puts one of their large hands on Muffet’s shoulder. Her dress is very soft, almost like the inside of mom’s ears. Muffet turns her head at them. She blinks a couple of times as she waits for Aofil to say something.

Anything.

Anything…

No.

One thing.

Say only one thing.

“I want to talk to you.”

That’s one thing, right?

“Y-you do? About me? About the pastries?”

That’s...two things!

Oh no!

Panic surges through Aofil’s small body, and their eyes shoot open out of fear. “Eh… I...” With each confused mutter they see Muffet’s hopeful luster drain, the blinking of her eyes becoming asynchronous and longer. “I don’t know,” Aofil admits guiltily. “I want to talk, but I don’t know about what.”

Muffet’ eyes narrow together. “Okay...” she says with a baffled flinch. She leans back her head to think. “Um… What about the cake I baked for Frisk? It was difficult to make, actually. A challenge!”

“Not too hard,” Aofil hopes. “You didn’t have any trouble with it?”

Muffet blows her lips at that ridiculous notion, her fangs making a raspberry whistle around them as she throws two of her arms at Aofil. “Nah,” she reassure with confidence. “It was fun though. Mom and I had to really knead the dough around.” Muffet ties her hands and fingers together as she mimics the process with her dark purple tongue stuck out the side of her lightly purple mouth. “It had to be sturdy to be able to be transported on a wagon, was the instructions. Very weird one,” she adds with a hint of disapproval. “But if the king wants it.”

Aofil follows along next to Muffet as she continues explaining the baking process on the way back to the Spider Cafe. “Sometimes you gotta add a few spiders to the mix to get the flavor just right.” She walks a couple of more steps before realizing that Aofil’s stuck a few steps back like they’ve suddenly turned into a statue. She skips back and waves three hands in front of the bulging eyes and half-opened mouth held tense by quivering lips. “Hello?” she tries, but to no effect. She taps on Aofil’s shoulder, but nothing happens either. “Aofil?”

Her other hands ball up and push against her sides as her mouth pouts to the side. She turns around to try and follow where the unblinking eyes are staring, but she doesn’t find anything noteworthy about the swarm of spiders readjusting the ‘d’ on the Spider Cafe sign. Why are they acting so strange all of a sudden?

Maybe their dad knows something?

“Wait here,” Muffet commands to Aofil.

Just in case.

The light tolling of the entrance bell rung by the entrance door opened in haste has Asgore lifting his head up from today’s newspaper. He sees the spider girl survey the place quickly before spotting him, and running over to tug at his robe. “Mr. King?” she asks while giving the title less than a second of thought. “Is it normal for Boss Monster children to stop working?”

Asgore folds his newspaper together while he blinks to try and process what the girl just asked him. “Pardon me, but pray, could you repeat yourself for me, little one?”

Muffet’s not little!

But anyways. “Aofil stopped working.” She points out the window to Aofil screaming into their sweater’s arm. “Oh,” she piques, surprised. “They didn’t work when I left them.”

Asgore is a bit unsure what is happening at the moment, but it doesn’t look to be too bad. Aofil’s not crying or anything. They just look a bit out of breath, that’s all. Relieved too. They’re fairing better than how Asgore did with Toriel, that’s for certain. Muffet’s mom shouldn’t be too long with finding that last batch of ingredients now, and it would be rude of him to tear Aofil away from their new friend. Wouldn’t be worried about Aofil not working if the two weren’t friends.

He’ll keep an eye open though, from now on.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Asgore assures with a kingly smile to Muffet. “It’s not something us Boss Monsters do often.”

“I see,” she acknowledges with a thoughtful nod. “They stopped working when I told them about the spiders we use to make the dough for Frisk’s cake.” She shines up. “Kinda like what you’re doing right now.”

Asgore forces his eyes to soften, but it’s like trying to make a rock feel like a pillow. He parts his lips that are stretching his cheeks into a neutral smile to hide the bubbling panic from inside. “I see as well,” he manages to voice without letting too much of his distress leak out. He unfolds the newspaper again so that he can hide his face inside of it. “Why don’t you go out to them again and keep them company, if you would, please?”

Muffet nods, her pigtails brushing against the corners of the table inside the booth Asgore’s squeezed himself into. She grabs a kettle of tea and two cups before patting a sleeping Muffin on his head. With her remaining free hands she opens the door to run outside again.

A couple of drops of complimentary tea spills onto Asgore’s robe as he lifts the spider motif adorned cup to his lips. The warmth helps, but not by much. He knew the Spider Cafe used spiders, but… He breathes out, making a moist circle in the newspaper. 

How many pastries has he and his family had now?

A couple of dozen from the anniversary?

The tingling taste Frisk described it as… It was actually…

...It was...

Asgore drinks some more tea.

It doesn’t help much.

“My king?” comes a melancholy voice from further inside the bakery.

“Yes!” he answers a bit too loudly, scaring Muffin awake with a slobbering yelp. “Yes,” he addresses more calmly after clearing his throat as best as he can.

“There is something I must regret informing you about.”

Nothing Asgore’ already regretted hearing. He looks outside to Muffet nearing Aofil drying their arm off. Nothing’s Aofil’s already regretted hearing as well.

“Are you working again, Aofil?”

“What?”

Muffet again waves her hands in front of her new friend, and this time the Boss Monster flinches back with their muzzle wrinkled away from her hands. “Ahuhuhu~” she snickers. “Your dad and you are very similar. You both look so silly when your long noses wrinkle like that.” Aofil flinches again when Muffet taps at the tip of their horns. “But your horns are much smaller than the king’s.”

“They haven’t grown out fully yet,” Aofil explains while rubbing their skull. “But mom says mine are gonna be more like hers when I grow up. Chara and Frisk’s might look more like dad’s.”

“My mom says that my fangs are gonna be bigger than hers,” Muffet also explains with her mouth opened fully, making her words a bit difficult to speak. She leans forwards over Aofil, who cowers down. “See?”

Don’t eat them!

Muffet smacks her lips together as she closes her mouth. It feels a bit dry now. She points over to the table she’s set for Aofil and her with the tea and the cups. “You want some?”

Aofil nods, and follows along Muffet again. Hopefully with less spider revelations this time.

“They kinda hurt when they started to grow,” Muffet continues while gently touching her finger against one of her fangs. “Did your horns hurt too when they started growing?”

They did.

“It was like someone was biting down into the top of my skull, but up instead.” Aofil winces at the memory of waking up crying in the middle of the night. It was not a lot mom or dad could do, since it wasn’t anything they could heal. It was a part of every Boss Monster’s life growing up, and Aofil was the last one. Even Frisk got theirs before Aofil did. Luckily they got their entire family to hug them through the night. The next morning Aofil woke up with their pillow stuck to their head.

Like their siblings had before them.

After filling up Aofil’s cup, Muffet fills up her own. “It was the opposite for me,” she says after a first sip with her fangs over the rim of the cup. “It felt like something was boring up into my skull, but down instead. Mom made me some very hard dough so that I wouldn’t bite down into my lips when I was sleeping. I had to use it for a couple of weeks before I could sleep without it.”

Aofil also has fangs, but theirs are more like a pair of longer teeth instead of the ones Muffet has. Much longer and pointier, almost like two small spears. Small, cute spears, that make dimples in her chin when she smiles as well as the ones that form on her cheeks. Aofil smiles back, and drink some tea themselves.

It’s not as good as dad’s.

But it is still good.

They don’t see any spiders in it either, so that’s good too.

“Do you want to say hi to Muffin?” Muffet perks up as she asks. “He didn’t really get to say hi to your properly before.”

The spider pet?

Aofil leans out from the their chair. The door is still closed, but they can still see the large shadow of the heavily breathing and scary form through the glass. They look through the window to catch their father’s attention for some help, but all they see is him leaning over the counter and talking with Muffet’s mom. By the way he’s leaning on his forearms and clasped hands it might be serious. 

He doesn’t usually do that, mostly only when he has to explain grown-up stuff to Aofil and their siblings. Like when Chara first caught a butterfly a bit too hard when they where very little. It didn’t move after they’d caught it, and dad had to explain to all four what had happened. They made sure to leave the butterfly where they’d seen it the most, on its favorite green flower.

Or when Frisk almost began poking at their soul and scratching at it. It was very scary seeing the fear in dad’s eyes, and it scared Frisk even more having him lift them up with such worry. He let them cry it out on his shoulder while he cradled them, and explained why he was so afraid.

Souls are delicate. They are the culmination of a monster’s being, and it’s not something a child should poke at like that. Nor should an adult. It’s dangerous. It could get hurt, and if your soul is hurt, then you are, permanently. 

It is also the good kind of delicate. So very much so! It’s where love, happiness, and laughter comes from. Aofil, Chara, Asriel, and Frisk, as siblings, have such a strong connection between them that their souls can beat together sometimes. It feels like they’re something bigger, something stronger. Like how they all got their halves from Toriel and Asgore, so will this bigger and stronger being be made with the souls of Aofil and their siblings’ acting like halves just like their parents.

“One day you’ll see this being,” Asgore said as he enveloped his children for a comforting hug inside his flowing bread. “One day you’ll all be so much stronger than your mother and I.”

Aofil looks down at their tea, at their rippling reflection turning their fur the same color as Frisk’s. This being sounds a bit scary, to be honest.

“He’s not scary. He won’t bite.”

Aofil looks up from their reflecting tea. “Who?”

Muffet lets go of Muffin from her many hands, and he lunges at Aofil with his tongue at the ready. He slams into Aofil again, and they fall backwards in their chair with their legs kicking and their voice bleating. Again they find themselves on the hard cobble, and again the fur on their face becomes wet as the spider pet’s tongue licks them like a fuzzy lollipop.

It...actually...kinda...tickles.

“See?” Muffet says with a proud blink to her closed eyes. She squats down to pet Muffin on his rough back. “I told you he wouldn’t bite.”

No! It tickles! Stop!

On Aofil’s nose. Under their ears. At the base of their neck. They squirm as they try and catch their breath, but Muffin is relentless with his kisses. Muffet doesn’t do a lot to help either, and instead is focused on picking away some crumbs stuck in her spider pet’s hair. “Hold still, Muffin,” she commands with a tug at one of his legs.

Aofil inhales some greedy breaths now that they have the chance to. Deep, deep breaths that echo throughout the rather empty plaza. They push away from Muffin’s face with both their hands, and slowly crawl backwards while he follows them with hungry eyes, but with an obedient body standing completely still as Muffet grooms him. “How long until you’re gonna learn to not be in the bakery when mom’s working?” she mutters with a childish huff. “That’s only for the small spiders since they can help.”

After another minute Muffet finally manages to get the last crumb out of Muffin’s pelt. “There!” she cheers with a last hard pat on his back. “Now...” Her upper three eyes narrow as she turns to Aofil, who is hiding behind a chair that they’ve turned around so that its back faces her and her spider pet. “What is it?” she asks while scratching the base of her pigtail. “Weren’t you laughing just now?”

Aofil glances down at Muffin underneath their saliva-drenched fringe. He licks the stretched width of lips with his reconstituted tongue, and Aofil shivers at it. They run their hand across their forehead to get the most of the spider saliva out of their fur. “H-h-how long do you think the cake will take until dad can get it?” they ask after a hard swallow while looking into the cafe through the store window. Asgore’s still leaning forward over the counter, but now with his arms crossed, and drumming his fingers on his upper arms.

Dad, please help! The saliva smells weird, and it’s sticky on Aofil’s fur.

“I’ll check,” offers Muffet as she flies up on her feet. Her black bells toll silently for Aofil, for their demise, as she skips back inside the store, leaving them alone with Muffin. The spider door-chime now tolls for Muffin, who shoots a myriad of hungry eyes at Aofil. They curl further up into their chair, ducking underneath the backrest while gripping the armrests hard.

The dinner bell is still faintly audible as Muffin saunters around the chair. He blinks a couple of times at Aofil, who turns the other way. Muffin walks around the chair, but Aofil turns back. He grumbles for a while, and then jumps up on the backrest.

Asgore turns his head over his shoulder to see Aofil’s flouncing legs dive underneath the bottom of the store window’s rim. He makes a movement towards the door as his ears catch Aofil’s bleat, but then stops as their laughter fills the cafe. 

How nice, they’re playing with the spider pet. 

Asgore returns to his counter resting with a relaxed smile hearing Aofil laugh so carefree. He heaves a calm sigh. The way Muffet swung past him with just a “Muffin’s taking care of Aofil, king,” had Asgore a bit worried about the sheer lack of strings her tone implied, apart from he string she used to swing from his horn again, that is. If there’s any truth to what he’s heard about that spider pet, is that it has more strings than a fully developed spider web, but perhaps Muffet eased in the introduction between Aofil and Muffin.

The laughter from outside sure tells of that.

However, is she also looking for those last ingredients now too with her mother? Asgore doesn’t want to be rude and poke his head in where it doesn’t belong, but it’s been a fair amount of minutes now. The whispering from inside sounded a bit rushed and hushed too. Asgore doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but his fatherly instincts from having four children is difficult to turn off. 

Perhaps he should call Toriel up and tell her that she should take a bit more of a scenic route with the three. 

From a waist pocket in his robe, Asgore pulls out his yellow cellphone. He flips it open with a flick of his wrist, and navigates down his contacts to his loving wife who’s…

Called him three times.

He blinks twice.

“Uh oh.”

He forgot to disable the silent mode from the morning when they were preparing for Frisk.

Oh boy!

He makes sure to hold his phone an ear’s length away as he calls her up. He tenses every muscle on his face as he prepares for the inevitable-

“Hi, dad!”

It’s Asriel’s voice.

Phew!

Asgore places his phone in the pocket of his hanging ear. “Hi there, son. How are you fairing?”

“We’re doing well,” Asriel answers after a second or so of whispering. “Mom asks why you didn’t answer her.”

“Is she angry?”

More whispering before Asriel breathes in deeply through the phone. “She says no,” he relays. Through his teeth, most likely. “How is the cake?”

“It’s still has a bit more decoration to be done on it, I’ve been told.” Asgore pushes his phone out of the pocket in his ear by bending it out like a frozen snail out of an ice tray. “Could I have a word with mom?” he asks carefully before again putting his phone away an ear’s length.

There is some commotion on the other side of the line before Asgore can hear the familiar sound of a phone being inserted into an ear pocket. The even more familiar sound of his wife clearing her throat dramatically emerges like an ominous premonition before she smacks her lips that only she can.

“Is the king too busy to answer to his queen?”

“I’m sorry, Tori,” Asgore apologizes with a light chuckle. “I had my phone on silent still since earlier today, and I forgot to turn the sound back on again.”

“I’ll try and make room in my soul to forgive you for that, Gorey,” Toriel chuckles back. Her tone makes Asgore comfortable enough to nestle his phone back into his ear, which Toriel waits patiently for before continuing. “So, how is the cake coming along?”

Asgore nods to himself. “It’s...on its way. There’s a special ingredient they’re searching for, which they’re having some trouble finding. Marzipan, it’s called. They’re gonna use it to sculpt Frisk’s face, and it’s edible.”

“I see.”

Not really the most enthusiastic response, but to be fair Asgore had the same reaction. It’s very context sensitive, but eating their face is a tad better than eating their soul. 

Again, context.

From the sample Asgore was offered there will be no worry that it should be sweet enough to resemble Frisk, at least.

“You should take the kids on some window shopping, dear. It might be a while until they find it.”

The pause has Asgore reckoning that Toriel is nodding. “Will do, my love. How is Aofil?”

Asgore’s words are halted at the tip of his tongue as the doorbell chimes behind him. He looks over his shoulder, and his phone almost falls out of his ear as it’s lifted in wide surprise.

Aofil extends up a shaking hand from their crawl. “D...a...d...” they force out of them between their heavy breathing. Their fur is as if it’s melting off their body, the same with their hair. Spit hangs like vines from the cavern ceiling from their outstretched arm pleading for help. The arms of their drenched sweater is rolled up all the way to their shoulder. 

“They’re...um...” drips out of Asgore’s mouth the same way the drool is dripping from Aofil’s lifted hand and fingers. Like from a wet sponge, saliva explodes from between Aofil’s clenched fingers as they clasp it in fear. Their eyes bulge, and their mouth opens in horror. Half a second later they’re dragged out of the door again, bleating with the last air inside them.

“They’re just fine!” Asgore half-shouts hurriedly into his ear and phone before disconnecting the call. He barely makes it out the door before his phone starts ringing again, but he weathers the pain as he lifts off the slobbering spider pet from his cowering child laughing painfully. Muffin turns around in his hands, but Asgore’s arms are too long for him to reach with his tongue. Asgore tucks the spider underneath his arm as he answers the incoming call from Toriel.

“I don’t believe you,” she says without emotion.

“We brought with us some extra clothes for the little ones, yes?”

There is a long pause.

“They’re just fine,” Asgore repeats as convincingly as he can. Problem is, he’s trying to convince water to be dry. “It was just the spider pet licking them a bit. Giving them some kisses, that’s all.”

There is a longer pause.

“Toriel, I...”

Asgore should just stop. The more he says the more he’s gonna dig himself deeper. 

“Look. I’ll fix it, dear.” He takes a glance down at Aofil who is laying on their back heaving air in and out of themselves. “I’ll wash them off. No problem.”

The sound of Toriel’s tongue smacking once through the cellphone is the loudest sound Asgore’s ever heard in his life. “You do that,” she says with the same tone she used when she caught Chara and Asriel sneaking out at night to eat some leftover chocolate.

Asgore folds his ear along with his phone inside of it as he breathes out through loose lips. He lets the folded phone fall into his hand before he places it back into his pocket. 

Never has he feared more for his beard than when he had a bad day training with Gerson back in his days as a prince.

He should probably check on Aofil firstly, but before that he opens the cafe door and deposits Muffin inside a booth where he immediately jumps up with four of his legs onto the window, pressing his face and hanging tongue against the glass. Aofil rolls away from him while mumbling a scared moan.

“You...um...” Asgore hesitates for a moment before placing his warm hand on Aofil’s drenched shoulder. It’s...unpleasant, but it is a father’s work to be done. “You feeling alright, Aofil?”

They shake their head, sending drops that crash against Asgore’s cheek.

Figures.

He wipes them off to the best of his ability.

“My stomach hurts,” Aofil whispers. “The spider pet tickled me so much.”

Asgore glances over to the window, to Muffin staring with all his eyes at Aofil. “Guess he likes you.” With one arm, he picks Aofil up. “Maybe a little too much.”

They nod once.

“Let’s get you cleaned up then. I’m sure the saliva dries quickly, but perhaps it’s better if we get it out of your fur as fast as possible.”

Aofil nods again.

With his free and dry hand, Asgore opens the front door. He then shoves it at Muffin as he begins turning around towards Aofil. The pet seems to understand the intent by the force of the air pushed in his face which has his cheeks flapping. He sits down complacent, and just observes.

“Please excuse my intrusion,” Asgore shouts with respect into the bakery, “but-”

“We still haven’t found the marzipan,” Muffet answers before Asgore can finish. She repels down from the top of the door frame with her hair hanging exactly the same as the doorbell at the entrance. Her upside-down smile turns into an upside-down frown, and she raises her five eyebrows straight down. “What happened to you?” she shoots over to Aofil, who tucks themselves into their father’s arm.

“Muffin,” they say quietly.

Muffet’s frown changes tone. From inquisitively to disapprovingly. “Muffin!” she chastises with her high-pitched voice. “I told you only to say hi, not eat Aofil! They’re a customer. Eugh!” she voices with a pouted huff. “Although, you’re also my friend now, so maybe...”

“I wanted to ask if there was somewhere I could clean them off?” Asgore chimes in between Muffet and her cowering spider pet. “Fur gets very uncomfortable when slime or saliva begins drying on it.”

“It does?” Muffet piques. “That’s strange. For me it just runs off.” She collects some speed from a couple of swings before jumping and stringing herself up on Asgore’s horn for the third time. She presents her purple cheek to Aofil, and pokes at it with a finger. “Here.”

Aofil looks up to Asgore, who shrugs and shakes his head.

It earns him a hard glare from Muffet as she sways on her string with her six arms folded. She stops herself by the sheer force of her glare, and scoffs at the king. “Tsk.”

Asgore can’t help but smile at the sheer weight and distilled poison behind Muffet’s scoff.

Who is this sassy spider?

She’s wonderful!

Muffet takes Aofil’s hand in one of hers, and places one of their soaked fingers on her cheek. It’s soft, yet still rough. Like the soft side of a scouring pad without water on it. “See?” she shows while angling her cheek down. The drop from Aofil’s finger runs down like water on a stone, and falls off onto Asgore’s paw.

Maybe not so wonderful…

“Could I perhaps use a large baking tray to wash Aofil in?” Asgore pushes further gently after unfurrowing his brow. “Basin perhaps?”

“Um...” Muffet voices as she begins thinking again. “You can use the sink, I think.” She giggles at the rhyme before swinging over the counter and correcting her dress as she lands. “Follow me.” 

Asgore walks around the counter, ducking underneath a spider web with a handful of spiders weaving a ball of silk that they throw for Muffin to play with. 

“It’s there on the other side of the kitchen.” Muffet points two of her left arms over to where the large vat and faucet stands. “Mom and I will be in the storage for a little while longer to search for the marzipan for Frisk’s ears.” She whispers something to a clump of spiders coming out of the woodwork which sends them skittering back into the walls. 

Asgore is lucky Aofil was too busy looking around for the cake. It’s gonna be difficult enough getting them out of their clothes, and more so if they’re frozen in fear. He gently places then into the sink Muffet so kindly pointed at, and runs the water on his arm to make sure it’s the correct temperature. Aofil lifts their arms up so that their dad can easily slip their sweater off. The saliva is like half-frozen glue between then their sweater and fur, but luckily it isn’t enough to rip against their hair and fur. Aofil undoes their trousers by themselves before kneeling down into the vat. Their eyes can just about look over the edge of the sink yet they still see no cake.

“So,” Asgore begins as he moves Aofil closer underneath the faucet, “I think Muffet likes you.” He scoops some water inside both of his hands and lets it fall onto Aofil’s head so that it reaches down through their hair, otherwise they’ll be itching for the rest of the day. “She’s a cute spider monster.”

Aofil looks through the running water distorting their vision towards the storage room where Muffet entered. They sigh, blowing some of the water against the inner side of the steel vat. “She said I was strange.”

“Well...” Asgore rubs the saliva out of Aofil’s ears as he thinks. It feels nice to them. “To her you are strange. She doesn’t have three Boss Monster siblings like you do, my child.” With a gentle white hand he lifts up Aofil’s beige arm to clean off underneath. “I’m thinking that you’re thinking that living inside a bakery is pretty strange to you, but to her it is normal.”

Aofil...didn’t even think about that. Does that… “Does that make me a bad person?”

Asgore cups his hands underneath his child’s soaked chin. “Oh no, my child,” he assures while taking the opportunity to wash off the slobbered nose. “Of course not. We all have our different ways of thinking what is normal, and that is a good thing.” He pushes away Aofil’s fringe from their eyes like two shower curtains so that he can look straight into them, bar any refraction from the flowing water. “As long as you’re willing to accept that.”

Aofil nods.

“Good. Now, sit down on your behind so that I can clean your legs.”

The steel is cold against Aofil’s tail, but the warm water heats it up after a short while. Once Asgore nods satisfactory they curl their legs back to them, and hug their knees together so they can put their chin down on them. They sigh. They sigh in a way only a child can. Wistfully, but not really understanding why exactly.

Asgore picks it up like it was an echoing scream, and he runs his dry hand over his child’s wet hair. “Were you scared when that spider pet jumped you?”

Aofil shakes their head. “Not really.”

That was not the answer Asgore expected, to be perfectly honest. Chara and Asriel ran away crying when they first met the pet, but Aofil wasn’t scared with the pet slobbering on top of them? Maybe they don’t want to admit that they were scared? “Do you still want to wait for the cake with me, or should I walk with you back to mom?”

“I can stay.”

It must be the spider girl.

It has to!

There’s no other explanation.

The way Aofil’s eyes are resting without thinking towards the storage room is proof enough for Asgore.

“I have the number to the Spider Cafe from the commission receipt I got when I ordered the cake,” Asgore reveals with a very obvious hint to his voice. He wrings out Aofil’s shirt after having let it soak underneath the faucet. He hangs it over the sink’s edge so that he can finish up with the trousers. “I’m sure Muffet will answer if you call. Maybe you two can start a delivery service for the cafe, perhaps?” A towel falls down from the ceiling, and Asgore catches it and hands it to Aofil. He winks a thanks to the small spiders in the roof before they slink back between the planks. “You can use the wagon if you want.”

Aofil meets the smiling eyes of their father. They nod timidly, and then smile back at him. “M-maybe,” they stammer out. “I t-think I have to ask Muffet about it first.”

“About what?”

A deep and metallic thud reverberates the sink as Aofil throws their head back with a surprised yelp. They grip their ears as the sound rocks their head both from the impact and from the reverberating metal almost making them deaf sitting inside the sink. Asgore dampens the shaking sink with his large and fuzzy paws until they calm down enough for Aofil to remove their pressing hands from their ears.

“Anyways,” Muffet continues after the sink has stopped moving, “we found out where the last package of marzipan is.”

“Oh,” Asgore piques as he hovers his fire magic over Aofil’s clothes to dry them, “so you’ll finish up the cake now?”

“It’s already finished.”

That’s strange. Asgore didn’t see any spiders, be it big or small, work on the cake while he was washing Aofil. He moves his fire from the clothes to his child, who dries themselves off with it.

“The package is inside the cake,” Muffet explains with a thumb thrown over her shoulder. “So it is done.”

Asgore flaps the last drops out of Aofil’s sweater before he hands it over for them to put on again. “But the ears?”

“That’ll cost extra.” Muffet crosses her arms. “Mom said it wouldn’t, but she wants me to help more with the cafe, which is what I am doing.”

“What if we bring the marzipan package back?” Asgore offers while holding the towel across the top of the sink so that Aofil can put on their trousers without worry. “Sounds good?”

Muffet narrows her eyes at the king, who’s are ever so softly. “I guess I can make it work, but then I also want Aofil to bring it back.”

Aofil halts with their pants at their knees. They look up to their dad from behind the concealing towel for a second before pulling their pants up the last way. They pull out their tail by flicking a claw at it bending at the hole in their pants, and stand upright. “I can do that,” they say to Muffet with a smile. “Also, um...”

“Yes?” she piques with her hands behind her back and foot twirling on the floor.

Aofil looks up again at Asgore, who nods encouragingly. They breath in through their nose, and out their mouth so bring up their confidence. “I was thinking that I can maybe help you with some deliveries? I have a wagon and-”

“I’ll talk to mom!” Muffet answers with a hectic nod that almost throws her pigtails off her head. She waits patiently, surprisingly, as Asgore lifts Aofil down to her level, tapping her fingers together. “I mean...if you want.”

Aofil nods. “I-I want. It’ll be fun!”

The sink once again rings out its deep reverb as Aofil flinches back from Muffet throwing all her arms around them. It doesn’t hurt though.

Quite the opposite.

“We’re gonna be the best of business partners!”

Asgore allows himself an amused chuckle before he leaves the kitchen to let the kids try and figure out their plans. Once back in the lounge, he picks up his phone again to call.

“My turn now!” Frisk shouts while waving their excited hand as they hear Toriel’s phone ring inside her robe. They shove their hand into her pocket, and flick the phone open before it’s even out of the robe. “Guess who?” they answer.

“Frisk,” Asgore guesses immediately.

“...Yes,” Frisk sighs. He’s too good at this. Dang it. “Are you and Aofil on your way?” Frisk tries to nestle the phone into their ear, but it’s not deep enough for it to be secure, so they have to walk with their head tilted to the side so their ear acts more like a hammock rather than a holder. “We just passed by the Echo Shop, so we’ll do the memory terrarium on the way home instead.”

“Ah! Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’m sure Aofil would love to see you make it too.”

Asriel and Chara lean their heads down as well so that they can also hear from the phone. Toriel is forced to hide her giggle behind the gentle palm of her white hand. They all look like they’re glued together at the head. It’s gonna be interesting to see how they handle walking around a lamp pole.

She moves her basket to her other arm. Not because it is heavy, more because it’ll be easier to take the phone when Asgore inevitably wants to talk to her. It is heavier than how it was when she left the house though. It was a good idea from Asriel to buy one of those one time use cameras so that the family could take a picture all together. Normally Asriel just films all of it, but with the video cassettes being quite rare this year from the Garbage Dump, it’s not been as much as before. They were lucky today with the single use camera.

It should be a nice photo considering where they are all heading.

Hopefully Gerson’s managed to get everything set up so that they don’t have to spend the entire day walking. He’s a crafty turtle though, so Toriel’s not too worried. 

“Mom.” 

Toriel leans down so that Frisk can stuff the phone in her ear. “Thank you, child,” she says before straightening her back. “What is it, dear?” she asks her stuffed ear.

“I just wanted to let you know that Aofil and I should be heading out from the Spider Cafe in a minute or so. The cake is being packed inside its box as we speak, and Aofil and the spider girl just have to finish up some business plans they’re discussing together. Aofil’s offered to help out with some deliveries from time to time.”

“Oh,” Toriel perks with pride. “Is that so? How nice. Well, we four will be heading off to Riverperson then.”

“I’ll check with Gerson then and call you back if there is a problem.”

Toriel nods. “Wonderful, dear.” She moves to disconnect the call. “See you in a bit.”

“Oh, before you hang up!” Asgore says hurriedly but not louder. “I gotta inform Frisk of something. Just a little change to their cake, no biggie.”

Toriel’s a bit unsure about that considering how hurried he was, but she’s trusted him with worse. “Frisk?” she asks her child trying to hug both their siblings with their tail. It’s just short of embracing both Chara and Asriel. Maybe next year they’ll be able to hug all three if it keeps growing like it’s been doing this last year. “Dad wants another word with you, please.” Toriel leans down again so that Frisk can push out the phone like a piece from a box of chocolate. They again lay it inside their brown ear and angle their head to the side so that it’s cozy and so that their siblings can listen in. Chara and Asriel wait for a nearby lamp pole to pass before they put their heads onto Frisk’s again.

After fighting her motherly instincts to eavesdrop, Toriel checks the passing road sign. It shouldn’t be too long for her and her three children to arrive at Riverperson’s station. Depending on how long Asgore and Aofil will take, the four might even have to wait a bit. She’ll not risk another detour though. There aren’t many interesting shops on the way, at least not for the children. 

Or her husband.

Toriel can see right through his plastered smile when she suggests the two should visit the snail farm. One would think his interest would stretch beyond what his tongue can reach when it comes to snails, but evidently not. He hides it very well, but Toriel is all too familiar with the breeze that’s stormed up when he yawns out of boredom. 

It howls of his desire to do literally anything else.

His fault for marrying her, so he’ll have to weather it.

It takes a couple of tugs on Toriel’s robe for her to realize that Frisk is trying to get her attention. “Hm?” she asks still half lost inside her thoughts. Frisk rolls their eyes and drops the phone back into the robe pocket before skipping away with their siblings to a small playground that they rush through as fast as they can.

Toriel picks up her phone again. She bounces it a couple of times in her hand before dragging a sinister smile and opening it.

“Wahahahahaha! You’ve reached Gerson, captain of the Royal Guard!” boasts the voice mail with vigor and a hearty guffaw. “I can not take your call at the moment, but please leave a message after the ngaah.”

“Ngaaaaah!” shouts a high pitched voice with exploding eagerness.

Asgore looks at his phone like it’s just insulted his beard, and pockets it with a very confused shrug.

A busy signal from Gerson when Asgore calls? Why would he ever deny a chance to remind Asgore how bad his form was during his time as a prince? 

With a baffled sigh, Asgore hands his phone over to Aofil, who takes it with both hands. “Could you call up Gerson for me after a minute or so?”

Aofil nods as they pocket their dad’s phone. It fits very tightly, and they can feel it push against their leg with each step they take.

But if dad asks for help, then Aofil will help!

They return to hugging the large spider-motif box with both their hands as Asgore begins walking again. The shaking from the cobble is noticeable, but Aofil should be able to keep the box upright with the help of their weight.

Minus their head since they’re feeling it floating away at the moment.

They’re never gonna wash their left cheek again.

Their blossom hasn’t yet died down on that side, and they kinda hope that it never does. It’s still almost as red as Muffet’s dress from when she leaned in to give them an upside-down peck at the front door. Her laughter still echoes inside their head.

“Ahuhuhu~”

They sigh, content.

Asgore can’t help but smile at the sound of the sigh reminding him of how he did back in the day. Aofil might be as unreachable as him too at the moment. It’s gonna be history repeating itself if Gerson tries to call and Aofil won’t be able to pick up since they’re deaf against anything besides the sound of their loved one inside their head.

They might even get a loud chewing out from his new apprentice. That small, blue fish girl. What was her name again? 

Aofil’s leg shoots up in fear as Asgore’s phone begins ringing inside their pants’ pocket. They heave a relieving exhale as they just barely miss knocking over the cake with their flinch, and pull out the yellow phone like the cork of a bottle. “It’s Gerson,” they relay while holding the phone out for Asgore. 

“You can answer it,” Asgore offers with a warm smile. “I need both hands on the wagon’s handle.” He’s gonna hear what Gerson has to say even from here, so it’s not like he’s gonna miss out on the loud chewing out. If it’s Aofil answering it won’t be loud enough for the entire purple city to hear, so that’s most likely for the better.

“Hello?”

“Ngaaaah! Undyne here!”

Oh yeah, Undyne. That’s the fish girl’s name. Guess the first thing Gerson taught her was to scream like him.

Not really a surprise to Asgore, to be perfectly honest.

Aofil switches ears since they’re now deaf on the side they answered on. They put the phone against the outside of their ear so that they don’t go deaf on that side too. “Listen here, punk! Whoever you are, not-King-Asgore-Dreemurr!” Undyne continues a bit more muffled. Still loud, but not deafening. Not completely, that is. “I don’t know how you got a hold on the King’s phone, but mark my words with the tears rolling down your scared eyes, I will-”

“It’s Aofil,” they interrupt with the phone at an arm’s length. “I’m Asgore’s child.”

“Oh?” comes a perplexed huff from the phone that almost tussles Aofil’s hair. “Then why didn’t you answer with your name!”

Asgore sends over a half-stern, half-laughing expression over to Aofil, who lowers their head. “Sorry,” they apologize to the screaming girl breathing heavily through the receiver. It’s almost like she’s gonna pop out of it any moment now.

“Apology accepted, but don’t go crying about it!” Undyne clears her throat like how Waterfall clears water falling from great heights and with even greater speed. “Sir Gerson is on his way to the Riverperson station at the moment, but HE’S UNFORTUNATELY OLD ENOUGH THAT HE FORGETS HIS PHONE!”

Aofil manages to point the phone away from the cake in the nick of time. Otherwise the screaming would’ve knocked it over. It almost shatters the windows of the nearby houses. 

“Her Majesty’s wish will be fulfilled too, I should inform.”

Asgore’s ears perk. Her Majesty’s? Toriel’s? What has she wished for from Gerson?

“And that’s about it. Undyne dismissed!”

Even the tone denouncing that the caller has hung up is louder than usual. “Can you dismiss yourself?” Aofil wonders as they fold the phone up again. “Is that allowed?”

Asgore didn’t really hear the question. “Hm?” He turns around. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Fair enough.

“My deepest thanks, Sir Gerson.”

“Don’t worry your pretty face about it, my Queen. Any chance to remind Asgore that his feet belongs on the ground is a chance I will never pass up!” Gerson nods to the three Boss Monster kids standing at Toriel’s sides. “I hope you’re doing so as well, children. He may be your father, but don’t let that get to that fuzzy head of his. Each strand of golden hair and beard is from his pride, and you wouldn’t believe how much it’s puffed up ever since he had you. Just remind him about the mattresses in the training grounds, and he’ll land back onto the ground harder than a boulder thrown from the top of Waterfall. Wahahahaha!”

“Oh,” Toriel smiles worryingly, “they are a bit too young for that, Sir Gerson.” She stretches her brows into a momentarily stern furrow for only Gerson to pick up. “We. Do. Not. Need. To. Discuss. It. Further.”

“Well, him and you were also a bit too young when I found you-”

“Thank! You! Sir! Gerson!” Toriel thanks VERY MUCH through her clenched teeth. “That’ll be all.”

Gerson shoots a winning look at Toriel before he takes a bow for the three kids, who bow back. “Be seeing you for your training next week.”

“Be seeing you, Sir Gerson,” the three reply as they wave him goodbye.

It’s not long after Gerson rounds the left corner of the forked road between the two tall buildings that Asgore and Aofil round the right one. If Toriel was a guessing girl she’d say that he was waiting until Gerson was out of sight, and then a bit more for it not to be obvious.

“We’re here now!” Asgore informs with a jolly shout. “Sorry if we kept you waiting.”

“We?” Toriel challenges with her arms crossed over her the rune on her chest. “You’re not blaming Aofil, I’m hoping.”

“Sorry, mom,” Aofil apologizes from behind the cake box. “I had to make a business plan with Muffet so that we could make deliveries.”

“M-Muffet?” Chara swallows hard as Aofil jumps off the wagon next to their siblings. “Is that the spider pet?”

Aofil shakes their head. “No, that’s Muffin.”

Asriel and Chara trade terrified glances.

“Muffet is the spider girl,” Aofil explains while pulling down their ears over their cheeks to hide their blossom. “I just need to stretch them out a bit since I had to listen hard to the business plans Muffet and I concluded,” they lie with hope that it won’t be obvious.

It is.

But their siblings lets it go.

Since now they’re all here! Now they can all get on Riverperson’s boat and go…

Go…

Um…

“Where are we going?” Frisk asks with a gentle tug on Toriel’s robe. “You never said where.”

Toriel nods to Asgore with a gentle smile. “We are going to a very special place, my children,” she explains as she kneels down with her husband. Together, they surround their children inside their outstretched arms.

“A very special place,” Asgore repeats.

Asriel’s excitement bleats out of him. “Where?”

The two Boss Monster parents trade another knowing glance.

“The Barrier.”


	172. Faces in the stars

“Tralalalalala~”

“Tralalalalala.”

“Tralala~”

“Tralala.”

“Tralalalalala~”

“La!”

The four singing Boss Monster children all look invitingly behind them to their parents with the same synchronous clockwork they’ve sung together with. Toriel and Asgore send them a smile and nod in acknowledgment. The family of six...six and a half…hunker down in quiet while they all observe River Person bobbing along with the gentle rocking of the boat they’re all sitting comfortably in. The gentle clang of the children’s combined voices fade away behind them, the crystals dotting the cavern walls having changed color due to the tone of their gentle humming.

The water behind the wooden boat shimmers with a calm yellow from the upbeat symphony sung by River Person and the four kids. What color will it be with Toriel and Asgore chiming in?

“Tra,” River Person begins again, waking up the crystals in front of the boat with their subtle voice. “La! Lalalalala~” they continue, changing the hue of the cavern tunnel to a more simmered purple.

“Tra,” Asgore starts as he takes tone for his family. They all squint as the crystals almost begin flaming from his booming inflection.

“La,” Toriel extends, calming the intense orange into a more thoughtful amber hiss. Ember-like rather than full on flames. She breathes in again while locking eyes with the her family.

They’re all ready.

“Lalalalala!” the entire family sings in unison. The sharp walls and ceiling around them turn into soft contours as the orange begins breathing with the crystals reacting to the combined song and all its distinct voices. The dark water turns into a river of cold lava akin to Hotland. It is just as warm as said lava from the radiating tender love shared between the Dreemurrs. The shadows cast from the crystals’ shine are long, reaching for the family and the boat. They envelop the wooden vessel not as tendrils born out of darkness, but as caressing and careful curls of comforting claws that brush against the cheeks of the Boss Monster family.

It tickles them.

“Tralalala, tra tra tra la la~”

A deep blue blanket is thrown over the boat from the crystals. The water becomes water again, and gives it a reflecting depth enough that the crystals begin to resemble-

“Stars!” Asriel bleats with glee. His joy travels down both the long lengths of the cavern tunnel, but doesn’t return. The family still have a ways to go, and they have gone a ways already. “They’re like stars in the water.” He waves his siblings over to the side of the boat, and Toriel leans closer towards Asgore to offset the shift in weight.

“You have to lean forward as much as you can, children, if you want to see the most spectacular of stars,” Asgore advises with no bias hiding behind his words at all. Toriel playfully throws the back of her hand against his stomach.

“You’re the one jumping in and retrieving them if they fall overboard,” she reminds while failing to contain her amused giggle. She turns her head away, but Asgore can still see it reflecting in the tranquil water. The ripples created by River Person’s boat are few and calm enough that Toriel’s smile still remains a smile. It hovers just below surface, just like how the boat hovers just above it. “And you’ll have to dry yourself up with your own fire,” she adds as a threatening caveat.

“On second thought, don’t lean out too much, children.”

Toriel rewards herself for her victory by putting her husband’s large arm around her neck as she rests her head against his chest.

For weight reasons, of course.

And for him to be able to reach if one of the kids make a splash. Hopefully not Aofil...well, hopefully not anyone, but if push comes to shove, particularly from Chara, most likely, then most hopefully not Aofil. Their first pair of clothing hasn’t dried up completely yet, despite Asgore’s best efforts. He’s forgiven though for the reason that he had to wash out the spider pet’s saliva all the way to Aofil’s skull to get it all away.

He’s not forgiven for how the saliva got there in the first place though.

Once he cleans the house after handing Toriel a parasol tea-drink while she sits in the garden reading a freshly bought book about snails then he might be forgiven.

Might.

For now he can run his soft hand over her arm while she watches her four children making up constellations.

“If you can find one that’s connected like this,” Frisk explains through a series of knots of their fingers, “then that one we can call ‘The Snail’.” The others agree with hefty nods, and begin scouring the water below. Asriel the most. He leans in closer with his white muzzle, almost touching his reflection’s muzzle as he does.

Chara turns a glance over their shoulder to Toriel, who narrows her eyes sternly for a moment while she shakes her head. Chara shrugs, and moves their hand away from Asriel’s back. 

“Don’t make your father jump in and fetch you,” Toriel addresses in case any of the other ones gets the same idea. “He’ll have to stop hugging me then, and that won’t do.”

Asgore stretches a smile for himself. He fluffs up Toriel against his sturdy chest, and she hums with content. He agrees, to stop hugging her won’t do.

Not now.

Not ever.

He kisses the top of her head.

She responds by giving him one on his lips buried underneath his beard.

“Tralalala~”

“La la,” the family joins in together again, shifting the color a bit lighter. 

Asriel’s furrow hardens against his more faint reflection. Dang it, now it’s harder to find the stars with the lighter water. He’s determined though! He’ll find ‘The Snail’! It’s hidden somewhere among the strewn reflections. Somewhere, and somehow, he’ll find it for Frisk. Then Frisk can show mom! And while he looks, he’ll find the constellation for Frisk too. And Chara. And Aofil. And mom. And dad.

He’s already found one for himself. It was the first one he figured out. The ones for his family will be similar, of course, but he’s also figured out their differences. 

Mom is gonna have some fewer stars for her contours so that it looks softer, just like how she is.

Dad is gonna have large stars at the top of his head that are similar to his horns.

Chara is gonna have their hair and cheeks visible in their constellations.

Aofil too, but it’s gonna be easy to distinguish the two at a glance since they’re gonna have different poses.

Frisk will have their long tail whipping out from behind them.

But first, ‘The Snail’!

It needs a swirling pattern for its shell, and some small stars for its feelers. It might need a lot of luck to find one that looks exactly like how he imagines it to be, but perhaps Asriel will get lucky again? He got lucky with his own constellation, after all. He relays his idea for ‘The Snail’ to his siblings, who all listen with their ears sharpened enough to cut through rock. “We have to be quick to point it out so that mom and dad can see it,” he finishes off with a thumb thrown astern over his shoulder. “So as soon as you see one, point it out as soon as you can!”

“Tralalalalalala~”

“Tra. La. Lalalala!”

The crystals in the river tunnel again darken their hue into a deep green that settles itself comforting over the siblings. Asriel shines up seeing the reflection in the passing water become clearer and easier to spot again, and he turns his head quickly over to River Person gently humming at the bow. “Thank you very much,” he says with a smile after waiting for his ear to slide off his cheek. “I’ll try and find a constellation for you too, River Person.”

There’s a slight shift in River Person’s cloak, the first movement they’ve ever done. “Tra la la, you too,” they wish back after their hood turns halfway to look back at Asriel’s smile. Even if it’s hidden beneath and inside a darkness most would refrain from addressing, Asriel can still feel the smile radiating out from inside the hood. “Can it be some notes, tra lalala la?”

That it can, and Asriel returns back to scouring the blank surface dotted with its reflective flakes of snow. It’s like a street full of them that they’re gliding through. A street full of snowflakes that they’re all exploring.

The ‘Snow Street’!

No, that’s already one in Snowdin called that. Maybe another word synonymous to ‘snow’?

‘Winter Street’?

Yeah, that sounds good. Asriel and their siblings are looking for constellations in the ‘Winter Street’! 

The ripples from the gently rocking boat has the snowflakes stars in the Winter Street falling upwards and away from the wooden vessel only to flutter back into place where they began. So many colors and different shapes in this river, with a subtle ebb and flow created by the waves as the boat glides through it uninterrupted.

Kinda like…

Asriel lifts his head up from the water, to the slight surprise of his siblings, who cast questioning looks between them. He seems pretty deep in thought though, so they don’t bother him about it, and instead return their long noses into the water. It’s better if they stick it in the water instead of in his business.

“Bless you,” Chara and Aofil wish Frisk as they dip their returning nose a bit too much into the water. Asriel keeps his head and back straight up still.

Gliding seamlessly and without interruption through a river…

Looking over the side of the vessel to faces staring back…

The only thing missing is for mom and dad to wave and be greeted as king and queen and this will be exactly the same as when they arrived in Home!

Hopefully Aofil and dad stick around so that the family is whole this time around when the boat docks at the Barrier.

Asriel chuckles to himself again before returning to join with his siblings’ snail hunt. It’s nice that all four are doing it together, even if it’s only trying to find a constellation of one. Perhaps next time Frisk and Chara will want to follow with Aofil and Asriel to go actual snail hunting. 

“Is that one?”

No, not even close, Frisk.

...Aofil and Asriel will have a lot of teaching to do if Frisk and Chara chooses to follow along, it seems.

“Close,” Asriel still offers friendly and encouragingly. It’s Frisk’s birthday, after all. “Maybe we can find another with a much cooler swirl to it?” 

Frisk agrees with a quick and determined nod. 

“You ready too, Aofil?”

They nod equally determined.

“Chara?”

Same there!

“Then let’s do it!”

Furry hands grip the edge of the boat yet again, and ripples begin flowing from the hanging ears dragging against the water’s surface like paintbrushes. The water isn’t cold, but neither is it warm enough for the Boss Monster siblings to not shiver when their eager ears first dip into the deep green liquid. Aofil lifts their ear up to feel at it, and Chara gives them a playful bump with their elbow. “You’re not gonna catch any fish, don’t worry,” they say with a giggle that Aofil joins in with. “You think we can find us two as twins next to each other in the water? That way we’re both twins in stars and in soul.”

Aofil will do one better. Two better, actually. “Maybe we can find all four of us?” The raised ante begins glittering in Chara’s eyes, even more than what the stars are already doing. Their own magic sparks the luster further as they breathe in excitingly. “And then six with mom and dad!”

Chara’s ears splash loudly as they nod, but it doesn’t faze them in the slightest. Instead it surprises them a bit seeing their own dark distorted reflection in the waves they created. They look back at Aofil, who chuckles at Chara’s almost terrified expression. It’s not often they let one slip, and that they’re so terrified over getting their ears wet is rather funny. Why are they so worried all of a sudden? Even Asriel seems scared, almost like the two caught Muffin looking up at them from the water. It wouldn’t scare Aofil though. Muffin’s already done his worst to them, there’s nothing more he can do to scare them. Especially when they’re with all of their siblings gazing at stars to match their faces.

To be perfectly honest though, it’s not really the constellations that interests Aofil. They’ll keep a lookout for ones that resemble ‘The Snail’, but what really strikes their interest is the way the water looks. Specifically, how their face looks in it. It must be some strange magic from the crystals reacting to River Person singing again.

And incidentally.

“Tra lalala la!” Aofil sings out to finish off with River Person.

They do it...alone...though.

The wet tips of their ears flick droplets that force Asriel and Chara back to reality as Aofil look back and forth between them. “You missed the cue,” they tease, but get nothing in return. Chara and Asriel look through Aofil as if they were invisible. Like how they look past their own reflection in the water to find the deeper stars.

Still nothing.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

“Frisk?” Aofil tries to see if perhaps they have any idea what this is about, but all they get back is an equally confused shake of their brown head. Aofil’s brow furrows, and they reach out for Asriel, who finally reacts. He catches Aofil by the wrist, but lets go of it almost immediately as if scolded. Aofil could almost swear that their arm turned lighter when he let go it, but the change in hue from the crystals has everything turning lighter, really.

“W...what happened?” they ask their stunned brother. “And you?” they also shoot over to their twin. “Did you see something scary?” Aofil leans in closer to Chara. “Like how dad reacted when mom showed that snail cage for him?”

“N-no,” Asriel answers with his usual chuckle. The slight stutter isn’t usual though. Mostly it is when he’s worried about his magic, but with how he baked the snail pie earlier today, how could he still be? It was awesome! And delicious! “Chara and I...we...”

“We just have another gift for you, Frisk,” Chara continues while scratching the back of their head.

“And you too, Aofil,” Asriel adds.

Almost reluctantly.

Aofil’s head cocks to the side, over to Frisk, who mirrors the quirk. Their tail come up behind them almost like a question mark. “For me too?” Aofil doesn’t understand why for them too. It’s Frisk birthday, so why is Aofil getting a present? They and Frisk haven’t planned anything for Chara and Asriel.

“T-that’s for later though,” says Asriel with his stutter just slightly audible. “For now, let’s continue trying to find ‘The Snail’ for mom!”

A present can’t be a bad thing, and perhaps Aofil said something that almost ruined the surprise. They shouldn’t think about it more so that they don’t spoil it for themselves.

Don’t you agree, strange reflection in the water?

It nods as Aofil does, with the same bright cheeks and the same hair as they have. Same eyes with the same different color due to the crystals now having turned into an almost oppressive purple. The same purple that you get after having stared too long at something bright. Not as purple as Royal Purple though, because that color is the most purple!

Despite all of the familiar similarities, Aofil’s reflection is still more different than it is similar. It’s not like any monster Aofil’s ever seen before! It must have been another one that River Person’s ferried across this river. It’s a much older monster, lacking any fur, and almost as white as Asriel is. The blossoms on its cheeks is the only thing giving its face any color outside its eyes. Some of Aofil’s aura must be mixing in with the echoes of this older monster from the crystals. Mom and dad’s said before that no other monster have ever had cheeks like Chara and Aofil, so Aofil’s aura reacting to the crystals must be why the monster in the water has theirs too.

This is much more interesting than looking for stars!

“Who do you see?” they ask to their surrounding siblings. “The crystals are giving me another reflection than my own.”

“You too?” Frisk gasps. “I thought it was just me.”

Aofil gasps too. “And you, Chara?” They bump into their twin’s shoulder to try and assert what kind of monster is in their reflection. It’s too faint to see, unfortunately. “Aww, shucks.” It’s almost as if Chara doesn’t have one at all!

Maybe that’s why they were afraid before.

Or maybe Aofil can’t see their siblings’ reflections as clearly.

“Can you tell me what yours look like, Chara?”

“It’s...me.”

Nah, that can’t be true. Chara’s lying, and Aofil’s pretty sure why. “You got an ugly one, didn’t you?” They lift up their ear’s twin carefully. “Does it have the blossoming cheeks on its butt instead?” 

With a losing pout, Chara snags their ear back to themselves with a tug of their head away from their teasing twin. They glare back at Aofil, who pushes both their hands against their mouth as to not burst into laughter.

“Mine has no fur on it,” Frisk explains as they lean closer to the others so that their reflection follows along. “Look,” they say before opening their mouth and turning to the side. “It has no muzzle as well!”

“Mine neither!” Aofil demonstrates by swinging their head around. The hair on their reflection is lifted up by the motion, and Frisk makes a startling discovery.

“The ears!” They snap their head down to their own reflection, and part away the hair over their own hanging ear. “My ears too. They’re gone!”

Oh what terrible fate! What woe and horror! This birthday started off so well and so wholesome has turned bitter and sour like those berries in dad’s garden that weren’t really edible, but the kids only found that out after the first handful. Now though? With having seen a reflection of themselves without their soft ears and muzzle? How could this reflection ever play ‘Snoot and Hoot’?

Frisk shakes their head hard and leans away from the boat’s edge while their hands wave back and forth to try and shoo the reflection away. They shiver as they sit down in the middle of the wooden seat.

“You others should also sit down again,” advises Toriel while motioning softly towards the bright end of the long tunnel. “We’re soon there now.”

Asriel drums his claws on the rim of the boat. His eyes dart around in the water. Up and down. Side to side. Where? Where? Where! He’s gotta find ‘The Snail’ before they land! He promised mom. He promised River Person he’d find one for them too, and-

“Asriel,” Toriel addresses directly, and rather sternly, while still being soft towards him. It’s important that he listens, but he has to choose that by himself. Toriel can only ask, she’d never demand from her children.

He looks back at his mom with eyes beginning to quiver. “B-but...”

“You’ll get another chance on the way back, my child,” Toriel promises with a gentle smile. “The crystals will be here for you still.”

Asriel casts a glance towards Aofil.

“Asriel,” Toriel says again, this time more understanding. Just as sternly though, but she knows why Asriel’s being worried.

It’s the same one starting to grow on Frisk’s face as they slowly close and open their hands in rhythm with their breathing. Their claws barely touch the fur on their palm before their hands open up again. Their tail curls behind them, and the feeling has them straightening their back.

“Frisk?” Asgore places his large, white hand on his child’s small, brown shoulder. This feeling they don’t flinch at, however. “It is fine. You do not have to worry. We’ll be at the Barrier soon. Just a bit more for your biggest birthday present.” 

Aofil looks over to Chara with a shrug. While the water’s turned almost completely turquoise from the Barrier’s overbearing white light, the mood’s suddenly turned much darker. Asriel’s looking worryingly at Aofil, Frisk seems to be afraid of their own hands, and even Chara’s cheeks seem fainter, now that Aofil thinks about it. “W-why are you guys so gloomy?” They try and make eye contact with their siblings, but they catch none. “W-what’s happening?” To their immense relief they manage to catch their mom and dad’s eyes, which are ever so soft and caring.

“We had a lot of walking to do,” Toriel explains after coaxing Aofil up on her lap. She’s almost whispering it to them, as if it’s a secret. “They’re all a bit tired, that’s all.”

“You got yourself a ride all the way to the boat, didn’t you?” With his gentle thumb, Asgore drags Aofil’s fringe to the side away from their eyes. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “They’ll all cheer up when they see the cake we brought with us.”

Aofil looks over their dad’s shoulder to the cake box adorned with spiders and webs. It’s tall profile is being held down by a pair of small, red tridents. Dad’s tridents. Chara and Aofil’s daggers weren’t sharp enough to stick properly into the boat’s wood, so he had to do it on his own. Maybe it was a good thing since Chara’s so tired now. They might even have fallen asleep if they’d have to keep their magic up for the entire boat trip too.

With a small bounce with her leg, Toriel coaxes Aofil off her leg. “Sit back down with your siblings now, my child.” She gives them a small push with her palms against their back, and give their tail a playful flick as they carefully walk over to where their siblings are sitting. 

Frisk looks at Aofil deep in their eyes as they sit down. “Tired?” Aofil asks with a small tilt of their head. “Don’t fall asleep before you have your cake.” They then turn over to Asriel and Chara leaning onto each other’s heads. “And you too!” Aofil scolds chillingly. “Maybe we should all dip our faces into the water when the boat docks so that we’re fully awake for the last part of our birthday trip?”

...Not even that cheered them up?

The boat rocks to a halt, shifting the ears of all six Boss Monsters. “Tra la la lala. We’re here,” River Person informs gladly. Their hood turns for the second time. “Happy birthday, Frisk. Tralalalalala.”

That at least got a bit of a smile from Frisk. 

Now, time to debark back onto dry land and to the path leading up from the river to the Barrier.

The path is bright.

Really bright.

Really, really bright.

Whiter than Asriel, Toriel, and Asgore combined. It has the entire Boss Monster family squinting as they one by one step off the boat onto the bridge waiting at the start of the snaking path leading up towards the Barrier. The boat rocks as each monster debarks, but River Person stays completely still throughout.

“Welcome to the Barrier, your majesssstiessss,” a blue snake monsters wishes well with a bow of its hissing head. “We’ve finissshed the trek now. I wissssh you well on your picnic.” It then slithers into the boat with an ungraceful thud, which prompts River Person to continue further into the river tunnel. Their hum fades like the wake following along, leaving only a quiet water remaining.

Frisk takes Aofil’s hand in theirs, holding them before they can follow the rest of their family off the bridge and onto land. “I just want to say thank you, Aofil. Just between the two of us now that I can remember it.” They scratch their cheek while scoffing a bit embarrassingly to the side. “I...I kinda dipped my nose a bit too much into that strange reflection.” They say it almost guiltily, as if screaming out in the middle of a theater production. They’re supposed to be the main character of this charade, but they’re the first one to speak up against the immersion. “Woke me up a bit, if you know what I mean?”

Hopefully Aofil can look past that and still go along this last stretch. They’d notice either way, and it’s probably for the better to come clean and speak up that the brainwashing has faded, as Aofil called it before it all started. The word has taken root inside Frisk a bit, so it’s for the best if they admit it before it begins festering.

Aofil does know. They’ve known it ever since Frisk lifted their head up and stared at their hands like they weren’t their own.

No need to feel ashamed though, Aofil’s accidentally breathed in with their nose underwater too. It feels really strange, and even worse if the sneeze doesn’t want to go off!

“So...um...thanks for keeping your promise, but you don’t have to keep it any longer. I think it’s better that way, because to be honest,” the second disarming scoff is more reserved and slightly terrified, “I feel a bit uneasy that I don’t know fully that you also know.” Frisk blinks once slowly while they try to exhale their building worry. They’re just rattling themselves up though with this. Once Aofil shows their humanity too it should be fine. “So if you could just tell me that you know then we can enjoy the cake without worrying if the other human isn’t coming back. Please?”

“I know,” Aofil answers with a wide smile pushing up their rounded cheeks.

“Alright.” Frisk sighs in relief. They can feel their body straighten on its own. The worry has been lifted off them. “Good.”

“Know what, though?”

Don’t put the weight back down again. “Alright, funny,” Frisk lies through a forced smile. “Just stop, please. I’m serious about beginning to feel a bit queasy.”

What is it that’s funny? Aofil’s doesn’t know what they’re supposed to know. “What do you mean?”

The forced smile drains away from Frisk’s face.

“Alright!” says Asgore through a small grunt as he lifts up the cake box into his arm. “You kids all seem a bit tired, so why don’t you hop on my shoulders? Toriel, can you take one in your arm?”

“I could take the cake instead,” she offers with a confident smirk as she rolls up her sleeves. She moves her basket up to the bend of her arm, and takes the cake box in both her hands off of Asgore’s. “We want it to still be in the box and not eaten on the way up, won’t we?”

Asgore has no idea what she’s inferring by that.

Nope.

Not at all.

Not a single idea.

God, the cake smells so good though.

Just a bit of a climb left before he can taste it now.

Just...a...bit.

Asgore looks up towards the barrier with squinting eyes.

Just a bit of a climb for this just a bit tall and kingly monster.

After a steadying breath through his nose, Asgore reaches down with his arm and shoulder to pick up his children. Asriel and Chara goes on his right shoulder and…

Aofil and Frisk?

Where did they go? They were just around a second or so ago. No long shadows from up the stairs either, so they haven’t begun on their own already. “Did you see the other two?” Asgore asks his wife, who turns around on the first step leading up to the Barrier. “They’re not with you?”

Toriel shakes her head. “They’re not with you?” she repeats with a piqued crescendo after having blinked hard twice.

“Frisk?” Asgore shouts as he turns around to look for them. “Aofil?”

His voice echoes throughout the vast cavern and into the river tunnel. At its mouth, behind a boulder, Frisk is collecting their breath as they force Aofil to sit down next to them. They can’t do this in front of the...family...it’s too much on Frisk. How will the illusion react if its creator has woken up from it? Frisk needs an anchor now, and only Aofil can be it.

Please, please be it!

“Can’t you just ask me on the way up?” Aofil whispers while they try to peek their head out from behind the large rock Frisk dragged them behind. Frisk pulls them back behind it via their horns before their muzzle shows itself. They press both their brown hands hard on the sides of Aofil’s beige muzzle to hold their head still while they look even harder into their confused eyes. 

“Why don’t you know, Aofil?”

“Know what?” Aofil’s confused. It hurts. Why is Frisk acting like this? “About the present Asriel and Chara have? I don’t know about that. I promise. Let my cheeks go. You’re hurting me.”

Frisk’s eyes sink into shadows, and their hands fall from Aofil’s cheeks, slamming against the wall behind them. Their back follows along with a painful thud, and they look down while their mouth begins quivering. “You can drop the facade,” they plead. “Please, I need to talk to you.”

“You can talk to me, Frisk.”

“The real you.”

“W-w-what do you mean?”

“DROP IT!”

Aofil lands hard on their behind as Frisk takes a harsh step forward with their fist balled down their sides and their gnarl thrown against their sibling. “I’m serious!” Frisk snaps while slashing the air between them and Aofil. “I can’t be alone in knowing! You have to know too! It’s...” They turn their head hurriedly from side to side as their breathing quickens. “That’s why I brought you with me, Aofil. You’re supposed to wake me up from this, not the reverse. I...”

“B-b-but it was dad that suggested that we’d go to the Barri-”

“No!” Frisk cries out as they grab the collar of Aofil’s yellow and purple collar. “Into Endogeny! I thought you’d be the one to realize first.” They swallow hard as they see no change in the childish glint of confusion and fear in Aofil’s quivering eyes. “This isn’t real, Aofil! We’re in Endogeny. We’re in an amalgamate! Asriel and Chara are our human souls. We saw our human bodies in the reflections in the water. Without you also knowing this will go from a dream to a nightmare. What if...”

Not...real…

What is…

What is Frisk talking about?

How tired are they, really?

“What if we can’t leave?” Drained by the realization surging through them like a swelling injury, Frisk’s hands slip from their sibling’s neck. “What if our bodies...”

Frisk isn’t feeling well. Aofil needs help. “Mom!” they shout as they crawl out from behind the boulder and into the sight of their parents. “Dad!” No secret is big enough for Frisk to act this way. For them to drag Aofil away by their hand and scream in their face. It’s their birthday! Why are they so scary?

“No!” Frisk tries to throw Aofil behind the rock again, but they lack the strength. “Quiet! I don’t want to look at them if you’re still thinking they are your parents!”

“Frisk isn’t feeling well!”

“Stop!”

But before Frisk can muster up another try, they’re picked up by Toriel. Frisk meets her eyes, and begins struggling as they fight off the soothing warmth and motherly worried radiating from the soft, understanding eyes. “Calm down, my child.” The voice is… “What’s the matter?”

“I know,” Frisk weeps while pushing Toriel away from them. “I know, and I’m scared that Aofil doesn’t.” Their head snaps over to Asriel sitting on Asgore’s shoulder. “Why doesn’t Aofil know?”

Know what? What is happening? “Dad!” Aofil coughs as they run at him with their arms outstretched. “I’m afraid! What is happening with Frisk?” Asgore gently lifts them up as they lunge themselves into his large and secure hand. They burrow their face into his shirt as he cradles their legs with his large thumb. “This is their birthday...” they cry into his chest. Asgore looks over to Asriel, who sighs deeply.

“I don’t know,” falls out of his tired mouth.

“What do you mean you don’t know!” Frisk spits while almost falling out of Toriel’s hands as they push off to get closer to the lying soul. “Why is Aofil still believing this? Talk to them!”

“I’m not believing it,” Asriel answers solemnly. “But they are.”

Believe what? What is there to believe? Aofil doesn’t understand! They choke a sob, and wring their father’s shirt closer to them. “I don’t understand,” they cough into the cloth, staining it with their scared tears. “Asriel’s my brother, not my soul.”

“He’s not!” Frisk voice cracks into a bleat. They try to cough it away, but to no avail. “Aofil! You’re a human! You’re not a Boss Monster! You’re an adult human! This is all an illusion!”

“An illusion you wished for,” Chara reminds. “And one Aofil promised they’d keep for one day.”

Asriel nods in acknowledgment. “At least it sounds like they got through to you, Frisk. It’s easy to get stuck in a fantasy like this, and it’s scary when it happens.”

“If you’re only pretending just to prove your point, Aofil, then-”

“They’re not,” Asriel interrupts. “That much I know.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Frisk’s tail whips angrily, and their face bends painfully as they feel the tip at the end of its length brush against Toriel’s head without a reaction from her. The same blank stare is cast from Asgore as well. They’re just statues now. Their illusion is shattered. “You must’ve felt when I realized, right?” Frisk asks Chara without addressing their pretended name.

“I did, and I thought Aofil did too.” Chara and Asriel trade the same look they did while leaning over the boat’s edge. “But apparently not.”

Frisk’s heavy breathing heaves their small body up and down in Toriel’s caress. Their eyes dart from Chara, to Asriel, and finally onto Aofil, who looks away as if they’re about to be attacked. They again burrow deeper into Asgore as much as they can for defense.

Dammit all!

“I know,” Chara acknowledges with a slow shrug. “Maybe we should cut this short, Frisk? Or do you think you can...Well, I know that you can’t do the rest of the day now.”

“I’m not sure about Aofil either,” Asriel adds while motioning down to a sobbing child Boss Monster Aofil. “I don’t know if I can keep my promise about not having them remember if they become more adamant about being a monster child as a reaction to this.”

With a final push, Frisk jumps down from Toriel, who’s now stopped moving entirely. They don’t look back at her. It’s all gone too far now. “The Barrier is the metaphorical exit?” they shoot over to Chara and Asriel while blinding themselves by the Barrier’s light so that they don’t see Asgore either.

“Yup,” Chara answers after they and their ears have landed firmly back down on the ground. Asriel lands next to them, and his ears a brief moment later. The two grab Aofil by their sweater and jeans, and lifts them down despite their desperate grip to hold onto their father’s robe.

“Dad!” Aofil yells in confused panic, but he doesn’t react. “Mom!” they try desperately for a second time, but with no reaction from her as well. Stunned, they can only stare at their frozen parents as they’re dragged up the stairs by their twin and by their brother.

What...is...happening?

They push their ears over their eyes.

“It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream. It’s all a dream.“

“Will Aofil be fine once they’re back in reality?” Frisk shoots down the stairs over their shoulder. The purple from the brightness covers the forms of Toriel and Asgore at the bottom of the stairs.

This time though they’re leaving those distorted memories behind. They have someone else to save this time around.

Frisk curses themselves.

But it is not enough.

“Hey,” they say. They won’t mention the name. Their soul will know that they’re talking to it.

“Yes?” Chara answers.

“I’m gonna say this out loud so that Aofil and or their soul might remember it too, but if there’s any memory that slips by you two souls, then have it be this feeling, alright?” Frisk wants to raise their voice as a threat, but it would just be waste of energy at this point. They’re not talking to actual beings, after all. Save the pretend breath for reality.

“Did you enjoy it while it was still real to you?” Asriel pries. “For Aofil’s sake?”

Frisk nods, to Aofil. “Thanks for keeping your promise, even if you’re keeping it too much right about now.”

“Thanks,” Asriel answers for Aofil.

“Don’t think about it.”

“That’s the plan.”

The Barrier begins peeking over the end of the stairs. It is just as Frisk remembers it.

That doesn’t bring them any comfort though.

“Alright,” they address behind them as Chara and Asriel arrive with Aofil in sobbing tow. “Should we just go through?” They can see their human reflection ask the same question in the reflection of the Barrier. They also see the reflection of Aofil sobbing as a human with their legs curled up to them. 

It’s...strange. 

Asriel and Chara aren’t in the reflection.

It’s just Frisk and Aofil.

Which is good.

“Just out of curiosity,” Frisk asks into the Barrier. They look up to their human face, but it looks up as well. “What would’ve the cake tasted like?”

As if dragged by invisible ghosts, Aofil glides closer to Frisk inside the Barrier. They bleat as their sweater is released by the invisible hands. They land on their tail as a Boss Monster, and as a human.

Stranger still.

“Chocolate,” Chara answers, which prompts a rapid turn of Frisk’s head. “Just kidding.”

Frisk won’t acknowledge that. They only shrug with their Boss Monster shoulders at their own reflection, who shrugs back with its human shoulders.

“You were right about a second thing too, Aofil.”

They grab Aofil by the collar. 

“It’s really uncomfortable when your soul is talking back at you.”

And step into their human self.


	173. Human after all

“Fluffbun...”

S-swearing?

What if… What if mom finds out? And da...

What if what?

Fullbun again! This splitting headache!

Where are they? Why is everything so black? And so white? And-

A long, slick tongue runs the entire height of Aofil’s cheek. At the tip of it is a smaller tongue making a black band in the white band preceded by the first tongue. It’s sticky, yet still very runny. Like being poured with both milk and honey at the same time.

If only it smelt like either…

Silver lining though, it woke them up a bit.

But from what, exactly? Each time Aofil blinks there’s a different picture. Purple, white, beige. Flashes of suggestions rather than of anything discernible. They don’t know where to begin placing these suggestions either. They’re familiar, they’ve seen those places and people...monsters...before, but where and when? They can’t place those thoughts down anywhere!

They turn their other cheek, but not on their own volition. Endogeny’s large and small tongue slobbers the other side of Aofil’s face with just as much enthusiasm as with the first one. It does help their mind to wander away from the flashes of...purple and yellow?

The smell though!

Aofil pushes away the hollow head away from them with both their hands. “Down!” they command to the hulking and shifting mass leaning over them ominously had they not known better. “Endogeny.” It’s almost as bad as Muffin. “Get off me!”

Half of the shimmering shapes of the smaller dogs acting as Endogeny’s legs sit down defiantly, while the rest try and drag the fused mass away from Aofil. “What?” they ask the sitting dogs staring with tilted heads. The black dogs nod in unison to the side, almost like a dark wave, towards the second human body laying silent on its stomach. Its covered in the same amalgamate gunk as Aofil’s drenched in. 

But despite that, Aofil recognizes who it is instantly.

And the fear of them not moving.

Worse still, the black and white residue surrounding the human form like a small lake is stained.

With red.

Blood red.

“Frisk!”

With hurried tugs combined with even hurried breathing, Aofil struggles their legs out of the whirling black and glimmering white goo. What’s left on their ruined jeans mold together and rip apart with each of their quickened steps, as if sticky dough not yet floured. The friction has them stumbling, but Endogeny offers an emerging dog head for Aofil to take support on. They give it a scratch behind its black ear as thanks, and it barks happily. Aofil hears its voice from a distance rather than right next to them, but they give it no thought yet. 

The only distance that’s important right now is the one towards Frisk.

And it’s yet too far away.

“Frisk!” Aofil again shouts in a desperate attempt to wake them up. Their steps are again halted by the residue fusing together black on their left leg with white on their right leg. They don’t get an answer from the body, which has them gritting their teeth. What’s happened to Frisk? Why are they so far away? Did they try and walk and collapse? If not, then how big can Endogeny really get? 

Aofil looks the supporting dog’s head in the eyes, and it flops to the side curiously as it waits. “Carry me,” they say to it. Endogeny bends down to offer its massive back, which Aofil grabs onto and mount up on. The feeling’s strange, as if they’re grabbing fur and soft fabric. When they look at their hands though, they only see the amalgamate gunk as usual. It’s ever-changing swirls and stripes of inverting black and white feels nothing like fur. 

So why did it feel like fur then?

Dammit, Frisk! Aofil said that this was a bad idea! Letting Endogeny swallow the two, what was Aofil thinking? It’s been walking around with two human souls in it, who knows what damage it’s done? Is Mt. Ebott still standing after Endogeny’s fused rampage?

Yes...yes, actually.

Since there’s no sunlight around.

Huh…

As Aofil looks around, they don’t see any visible damage. The pretend Spider Cafe is the same as how they last remembered of it. Same spidery decor, same spidery tables, same spidery tables, same spidery everything!

It’s not even whole when Muffet’s around! So how can it be this clean with a twice human soul charged amalgamate around?

Hopefully the cake them and dad brought with them is still alright for Frisk.

…

What are these thoughts? Where are they coming from?

Has Aofil and Frisk’s memories fused together? Their souls too? Magic’s finally caught up to the two for the last time? 

Dammit! That’s gonna be even worse to explain! Any chance that will work out is if they somehow also fused together an explanation. And Aofil can’t even explain what they themselves are thinking, so that’s already out of the question!

With some effort, Aofil dismounts Endogeny as it stops with its tails whipping dog residue onto the walls and tables around it. The residue dissipates upon contact with a silent glimmer, as if never having existed. Same what Aofil wish this entire situation’s never having. No aura for it to sustain on the magic. Not enough determination to keep its experimented existence up. 

If there’s puddles of it around Frisk though it might be a sign that they’re still alive.

Aofil’s almost surprised that they land so early on the stone floor that’s quickly drowning in goo underneath Endogeny. They expected to fall for a bit longer, and their knees take a slight blow that they’re forced to weather. The supporting head emerges from Endogeny again to catch Aofil stumbling as they begin to sprint the last few steps towards Frisk’s still body. Their feet feel too...small? But they have shoes on! How is that possible?

How bad is it for Frisk then if Aofil’s like this? Aofil feeling like their head is about to explode they can accept. That they can move past. If something’s happened to Frisk though…

God dammit!

Aofil throws themselves down on their hurting knees, crashing into the pooled amalgamate goo mixed with crimson blood. It still looks fresh, whatever small relief that is. Thick drops of black and white dog faces dotted with red look concernedly down at Frisk as they sail through the air from Aofil’s impact into the lake of Endogeny’s making. “Frisk!” Aofil turns the recently adult human around by their striped shoulders. They swipe off the residue from the purple and blue sweater, and lean their ear down onto it.

But their own heart is beating too loud for them to hear anything from Frisk.

Breathe in.

Calm down.

Don’t stress yourself over being stressed yourself. That will just make things worse.

Just...breathe...in.

Deeply through the nose.

And out their mouth.

In through their nose again.

And then they hold it.

The splashes from the drops falling off Endogeny ring out in the empty dining hall. Each one is like a beat of a drum to Aofil. “Come on, Frisk,” they whisper through their teeth. “Talk to me.” They shut their eyes closed to focus their entire being on the limp body they’re cradling inside their arms.

Endogeny leans its curious gaping hole towards the silent humans. It takes a timid step to look over Aofil’s shoulder to Frisk. On the torso almost completely hidden by Aofil’s feared frown. Their eyes are focused and hardened on even the most minute of movement. Be it the fabric of the sweater swaying from the wind from Hotland, or…

Or!

Yes!

It’s moving!

Aofil’s almost swallowed by Endogeny as they throw their head up. The amalgamate falls backwards onto a nearby table which absorbs into its body with an audible slurp. Aofil puts their head down onto Frisk again just to make sure.

They have to be sure.

They have to!

Frisk’s sweater chafes against Aofil’s ear as it pushes against it before gently receding away.

They’re breathing! Frisk’s breathing!

With a sigh that leaves them lightheaded, Aofil exhales some of their worry. Not all of it though. They still have to find where the blood is coming from. It’s hard to see at the moment as Endogeny begins leaning above them again. Drops from its hollow mouth hits Aofil on the back of their head like cold rain, and they shoo it away to get its looming shadow somewhere else besides on Frisk’s head where they need to look. “Sit down over there, Endogeny! You’re in the way!”

It slinks away with its many tails underneath its many legs, disposing of its absorbed table next to Frisk.

For now Endogeny will do best out of the way. Aofil will apologize to it later once they know Frisk is safe. 

...If…

No!

Once!

No ifs!

“Can you hear me, Frisk?” Aofil tries as they follow the small stream of blood staining the monochrome puddle around the injured human. “Where does it hurt?” 

Aofil has a feeling that they already know where it does hurt. 

At the first place they should look.

Gingerly, they angle the sleeping head forward.

“Fuck.”

Frisk’s hair is drowning in red, white, and black. It’s dripping down the long fringe gripping tightly against the yellow forehead. Down the solemn cheek, and onto Aofil’s hand. The warmth from it travels straight through the thick layer of Endogeny’s sludge. The ripples echoes inside Aofil’s body, with waves of fear and panic traveling up both their arm and spine.

No! No no no no! This is bad! Anything but a head injury! Even if Frisk allows Toriel or Asgore to heal their head, it might be too much for magic to cure. 

Aofil lays Frisk down again, carefully. Both of their hands giving Frisk’s head support as they slowly put it back onto the ground which they clear off as much of Endogeny’s residue they can. The yellow hue of Frisk’s skin radiates into the few drops too stuck for Aofil to dare remove. It’s tinted a sickly color when a drop of blood slides into it. It looks like it’s only reacting to the blood’s presence and not doing anything with it, which is a relief.

They need to fix this quickly. There can’t be any cameras around, or else Aofil would’ve woken up to Alphys tending them after having tended to Frisk. It’s just the two humans and Endogeny here for now. Endogeny might be to some use sprinting over to the others and fetching them, but if Aofil’s worried about magic healing Frisk’s head they’re more worried about their condition and getting shortcutted with their condition. Right now it’s some human help Frisk needs, and then once they’re stable enough for magic Endogeny can carry them to further help.

And even if Endogeny hurries as fast as it can it’ll be too late. Frisk needs help now!

Glass, plates, and cutlery follow with the table cloth Aofil drags off a nearby table, landing with faint splashes in the pools of white and black bobbing on the floor. They also swipe some napkins which they pad against Frisk’s hair. They have to clean them off to find out exactly how bad the injury is. 

First their fringe.

Then their forehead.

Then their head.

And then their-

“Ow!”

Their ow?

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!”

Endogeny spins around with the hole in its face foaming up with excitement seeing Frisk fly up to a clenching sit, but before it can charge happily across the room again, Aofil puts up a stern flat of their hand. “Stay!” they command it, to which it stops dead in its barely-taken track. Even a statue has more movement to it. It sits down obediently, with all of its smaller dogs doing the same. All looking at Aofil and Frisk unblinkingly, eagerly waiting to spring back up on its legs and show its relieved affection. That’s something it’ll have to wait patiently for while Aofil returns their attention to their patient. They’re still not a hundred percent sure what’s happening with Frisk.

And that’s not enough.

“Frisk,” they address the groaning human clutching carefully at their own head. “Talk to me. How much does it hurt?”

“It hurts!”

That’s not enough. “How much?” Aofil needs to know exactly.

A few heavy breaths pass before Frisk can speak again. “Like a brain freeze that won’t give up!”

Again, “Inside your head?” exactly. Aofil needs to know exactly.

Frisk so wants to shake their head, but they can’t! It would only hurt more! “No!” They grit their teeth, missing their tongue barely. “It’s outside!”

“Frisk,” Aofil again addresses straight while they present the bloodied napkin. “I need to see what it is that is hurting for you.” They touch softly at Frisk’s tensed hands to show that they’re being serious. “Please, lower your hands.”

A few heavy and deep breaths echo throughout the large room as Frisk carefully tries to lift their red palms away from their head. They fail the first time, and push them back down while choking a pained sob. Aofil gives them a silent look to remind them that this is something that must be done, and after a hard swallow, Frisk begins lifting their hands off.

Aofil still can’t see where the blood is coming from though. They have more to clean off. “Just a bit more, Frisk.” The clutching hands stay locked tightly together even as they’re lifted up, and Aofil helps by carefully grabbing Frisk’s wrists and easing the fingers apart. Afterwards they cup the bloodied head in their palm so that they can tilt it forwards to inspect. They pat at it with the napkin and-

“No!” Frisk throws their arms at Aofil’s sweater which they clench between their fingers. “It hurts!” With each sharp inhale they wring the drenched fabric harder and harder, squeezing it dry from Endogeny’s residue. The fabric turns a deep pink as it blends with the blood on Frisk’s hands.

“I have to,” Aofil reminds as calmly as they can. They throw a glance over their shoulder to make sure Endogeny is still sitting pretty. It wants to lunge at Frisk’s aide, that much is clear by the distress happening among its black dogs around its white legs. In unison, all the dogs are barking a deafening silence while trampling impatiently on the floor. “It’s just a bit more, Frisk. I promise.”

Frisk’s fists tighten, and they nod as their body begins quivering. “I know...” It’s barely an acknowledgment. Aofil can hear the strain on Frisk’s voice, it’s not boding well. The two humans are both hurting from this, but it’s a lesser hurt compared to what might happen if the two just ignore it.

The cavern fills with Frisk’s long, shivering breaths expelling and inhaling without a consistent rhythm. They barely get any air in through their shaking mouth, and even less through their clamped throat. They begin to feel lightheaded, and also a bit numb.

Perhaps that’s for the better? Then it won’t hurt so much. 

They take a last long breath and hold it in while nodding as gently as they can.

Aofil takes that as a go ahead to continue. They gingerly part as much hair as they can from where the blood seems to be running out from, making extra sure to tug as little as possible. Even with Aofil’s gentle carefulness Frisk still coughs another painful sob through their coarse throat. They have Aofil’s sweater to rip in their pain though, so they don’t say anything else besides a few steadying and sharp breaths. They’re almost hugging Aofil.

Maybe they should...

“Just a bit more, kid,” Aofil comforts to the best of their dehydrated and confused ability as Frisk envelops their arms around Aofil, squeezing them tightly with a choked cough. Again their head is flashed with thoughts and memories that could never have happened. Of Frisk and Aofil sitting on a roof in the Underground with a bowl of snails between them. The two are Boss Monsters in the memory. Boss Monster kids.

Aofil shakes the thought away, but it’s still lingering at the back of their head. “Just a bit more,” they repeat to Frisk.

No answer.

The napkin again lands like a snowflake on Frisk’s parted hair. “Breathe in, Frisk. You need your lungs filled for this.” 

They do so.

And Aofil swipes back.

The napkin rips apart into three bloodied slivers in their hand as it grinds against something sharp. The tips of which grace at Aofil’s palms.

What the-

Frisk forces their head into Aofil’s chest as they cry out in uncontrollable pain.

A strange warmth surges up from where Frisk’s head is pushed against Aofil’s torso. It’s...soothing...in a way. Amid all this confusion, there’s a sudden serenity beginning to wash away everything in Aofil’s mind. The confusing memories and thoughts, they all stop. They step aside respectfully to allow in the serenity. It’s whimpering in its entrance. It’s hesitant to walk the path that was so busy just a moment ago. It’s alone. The only thought left. None of the other voices want to talk anymore. It’s past their time. There’s nothing left they can say, because whatever they can say is meaningless now.

It’s all come ahead for Aofil now.

They’d laugh at it if they could, but even if they could, they’d probably not do it either. This silence is comforting. It is not something Aofil has ever experienced before. This infinite moment of nothing but an overtaking serenity spreading out from their chest. They know what it is, but despite that, they still welcome it. They should rage against it, they should curse and bargain for this to be reset and never happen! When they look down though however, at their hand laying heavy on the back of Frisk’s weeping head, they don’t have the strength to move neither their hand or their eyes from the glue-like hair. Their strength is being sapped away by the serenity that’s now gently asking for Aofil to relax and just look. It’s the only thing they feel like they can do. Just look.

Just look at Frisk.

Frisk…

What to say to the kiddo? That Aofil’s proud? Of course they are, that goes without saying. What Aofil’s failed at as an adult Frisk has managed as a mere child.

Mere?

No, Frisk is no mere child. They’re an adult now. Happy birthday, Frisk.

Perhaps...perhaps that’s what Aofil should say now. It’s a good moment for it. They have to collect themselves a bit though. Their throat is choking a bit at the moment.

Aofil weakly grabs Frisk by their sobbing head. Not to push away.

But to hold close.

A strange warmth begins pouring over Frisk’s eyes. A sanguine river dripping from their fringe like water from the cavern roof onto its hanging formations. Blood. They can feel their heart thump hard inside their head, but it sounds different. It’s not in rhythm. There’s more of it too. A second voice of a quietly beating heart along with their own. The two hearts are beating together, but not as one. There’s an offset, both in rhythm and intensity.

Like comparing a blazing sunset to a fading candle.

Frisk grasps at their chest, and through their arm they feel their own heart beating along one of the rhythms in their head.

Where is the other one coming from?

“Frisk...”

Frisk tries to look up, but Aofil holds their head locked in with their tensed hand. Their ear pushes harder against Aofil’s torso, where they hear… 

No.

Where they don’t hear Aofil’s heart…

Only through their skull.

Only through their-

“D-don’t move,” Aofil...pleads? Why are they-

...No.

No!

No! No! No!

“It’s fine,” Aofil coughs out, bending their weight forward so that it rests on Frisk. “You’ve done more as a child that I’ve done as an adult.” Something else they should add too. “This is not your fault. Don’t think more of it, please.” Good, now they’ve said what they had to say. “Thank you for giving me a new family.” The serenity sighs its presence throughout Aofil. “Thank you for being a part of it.” 

And they accept it.

Frisk feels the entire movement unfold on them. They feel the push forward on the top of their skull and the hardened grip Aofil takes at the back of their hair. Afterwards they feel the grip loosen, and Aofil’s weight moving off their body. The tensed hand, now limp, runs up the back of Frisk’s hair. The weakened fingers hook temporarily before slipping off, and Frisk lurches forward down on their hands and knees.

Their head is bent over when Aofil hits the ground. The stripes and dots of blood on the monochrome floor bobs as the waves from the impact washes up on Frisk’s knees. Through the now syrupy red strands of hair hanging over their eyes, Frisk stares at their shadow shifting up and down as they heave their breaths.

“E...Endogeny...”

Warm drops hit the back of Frisk’s neck and shoulders.

“G-get t-the others...”

They move their hands up, and their shadow follows.

“P-please...”

To the acute growths protruding from their skull.

“F-Frisk n-needs help n-now that I c-can’t...”

Their horns.

“Hurry...”

Slick with blood.

“...H...e...l...p...”

That’s not their own.

Black and white streak past Frisk’s vision. A hurrying mass crossing their side in a blur, leaving a trail that’s scrambling on its own to follow. Frisk follows the fresh residue to where it begins to turn pink, and eventually red. Like confetti out of glistening snow falling gently upwards, the residue on Aofil’s body begins to fade off of them. Long and reaching dusty rays of sanguine cast flickering shadows upon the ground and walls as a trembling heart breaches like the sun behind a layer of clouds from Aofil’s still chest.

Frisk knees wobble as they try to stand up, and they fail to find their balance. They can feel their horns tug at the loose skin around their base on their skull, and the drops losing grip from the tip of their hair as they fall back down on their hands. “No!” they cry with swelling despair. “What have I done?”

The quiet serenity is chased away by Frisk’s desperate voice. The fear in it rattles Aofil awake, and they try to sit up to help.

But they can’t. They’re too tired. Too sapped. “Frisk,” they call out faintly. The serenity begins to take over again, urging with care for Aofil to keep laying down. It’s warm. It doesn’t yell at Aofil. It’s nice. Stay with Aofil from now on. Keep the quiet, please.

Their lungs burn from within as they cough from the strain of speaking.

“A-Aofil?” Frisk replies, their body stiffening from the harshness of Aofil’s voice. With their now locked knees, they finally manage to command their legs to begin moving their body forwards. They stumble a step closer. “I...I’m sorry. I-”

No.

No.

Don’t be.

“I...t’s not y-your fault.” Another violent cough bursts out of Aofil, and their legs ball up to further compress the two wounds they’re holding as closed as they can with their arms. Their soul remains above and out of them though, suspended in the air as it flutters violently with each of Aofil’s coughs. They can see their sweater turn more and more red even through their darkened vision. Where’s the serenity? Why did it disappear again? Wait...is that Frisk? What...what wonderful horns they have. Oh, they look beautiful. They’re shaped like Toriel’s, but as sharp and robust as Asgore’s. “They look good on you,” Aofil compliments before failing to reach up with their hand. “Can...I...touch...”

It’s hurting again. It wasn’t just a second before, but it is now. Not as much though, but enough that Aofil’s uncomfortable. It must be their tiredness. They’ve never been this tired before. It’s not a comforting tired. It’s cold now, as if they’re exposed. The realization is slowly crawling up to them, albeit very slowly. It won’t reach Aofil’s awareness in time.

They’ll be sleeping before that happens.

Frisk collapses onto their knees next to Aofil. The shock travels up their entire body and explodes as it hits their horns. They cry out, but bite their teeth together instantly after. They know this pain. They’ve seen this before with the monsters.

B-but never before with a human!

It’s...so different. Yet so similar! It’s Frisk’s fault, it’s their doing, just like how it was with the monsters. They can fix it though! “I’ll reset, Aofil!” 

But to when?

“No.”

No?

“No resets.” Aofil tries to move their head, but they’re not feeling it. “A-Asriel...he...”

“He’ll remember!” He’ll remember being Asriel! “We’ll all remember that it’ll work out!” It will work again! It’ll just be...another one. Another reset. They’ll get longer next time. There’s always a next time.

Always a next time…

And then a next time after that.

And after that.

And after that!

No, it won’t end with a reset.

Because that only means another reset.

Frisk needs to solve this without one.

They have to stay…

They have to…

They can’t.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper to Aofil. Their face is red, except on their cheeks. The flush on them has faded away. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, Aofil.” They reach out for the shaking red, cracked soul supplemented with slivers of white, cupping it inside their hands.

Aofil sighs in content.

It’s warm again. Thank you, Frisk. Always so kind.

They extend a hand towards Frisk to tell them that it’s fine. Endogeny will find the rest and Sans will shortcut here some help so that Frisk will be all right. It’s too late for now for Aofil. No worries though, Aofil just needs to rest a bit. They’re too tired now. Too tired to even close their eyes properly. Too tired too breathe. They’ll just rest for a bit. Then it’ll be just fine.

The rays of red light weaken into a faint glow.

It’ll be just fine.

Just...

...fine…

...

Frisk catches the pale hand falling just before it can grace their stained cheek. They grasp it, and move it towards their weeping eyes.

Before one of Aofil’s fingers can touch the tear-filled skin though, the soul in their other hand begins to shift once and fiercely with a sickening crack. “No!” Frisk throws the pale hand back down with a roar to hold the quivering soul together with both their hands. 

They refuse!

They’re not gonna let another death happen because they were careless! Not another reset! “Your family wants you! They need you! Muffet wants you, Aofil! You can’t leave her without hope!” Not one more!

Looking upon the fragile smile of the closest Frisk had to a human parent.

It fills them with determination!

It stirs within them. The same flourishing energy that surged throughout them when they first laid a blow on a monster. The anger and the fear becoming a reward. An eagerness for the feeling of having another one’s life in their hands. Deciding upon its fate, turning that anger and fear into fuel to chase another. Frisk became drunk with it before, and they’ll get drunk with it again. They’ll let it take over them. Lose their entire being to it, both body and soul. Cloud their vision with whatever blinding haze it can summon. Fill their mind with thoughts they can’t stop. Have their chest feel like it’s about to burst into flames!

The anger! The fear! Don’t hold it back! Have it feel like their soul is about to swell to a size their body can’t endure. They’re determined, from their very core.

They’re determined.

To save a life. A human life!

With this anger towards themselves.

With this fear towards themselves.

To what they’re capable of, deep down. The past they could never look back onto for fear of remembering. For anger over the memories that plagued their dreams.

Take it all in their hands that they’re holding in front of them.

Take it all.

And force it to obey Frisk the same way Frisk obeyed it!

The will to live. The determination to push forward. The refusal that gave them the desire to kill. It gave them strength. It gave them courage. It gave them the distance they could take from their own actions. To only see what lied beyond, the perverted ecstasy that they couldn’t stop, and wouldn’t ever want to stop.

Within it is another desire. A desire that the perversion twisted, yet was still true. It’s a distance Frisk had to close. A distance they had to confine within themselves. Within their soul. 

They need this distance now to reach Aofil.

But not with the desire they know it from.

Not to kill.

But a desire to save.

It can’t do it alone though. Not with a human.

Frisk needs them both!

Their hands strain as the white strands begin to loosen from the red. They push it back it. They’ll push it deeper if they have to! Despite their efforts, more and more of the white in the soul begins unraveling to expose the hollow crevices. They’re...loosing...grip!

No!

They won’t allow it.

They remember what Chara and they cried to Sans when they couldn’t make it pass him. When their desire to kill took them over.

They remember what Asriel cried when he couldn’t make it pass them. When their desire to save took them over.

And they’ll remember what they cried when they wouldn’t let their family lose another human! When both their desires thundered as one!

“Just let me win!”

Frisk slams their palms down onto Aofil’s chest, who’s body flinches from the hit. The two pouring wounds pump underneath Frisk’s palms, and they dig their fingers deep into the surrounding skin. The blood pours between their fingers the same way the dust flowed when they distanced themselves during their first desire. The distance they need now to reach beyond themselves and into Aofil. “Fuck you, Aofil,” they roar through their gritted teeth. Hate and anger crackles like lightning inside their eyes. “Fuck you, I’ll save you!”

If only Chara was still here. If only Asriel was still inside Aofil. Then those two could find each other.

But it’s just Frisk and Aofil. 

They’re alone together.

And that alone is…

It Is!

“There!”

Frisk feels the distance close in on them. Another heart again beating within them. It’s weak, it’s so very weak. Frisk needs to heal it.

To save it!

It’s shattered form with the white slivers holding it together just barely. Frisk won’t let it shatter.

They refuse to!

They refuse it!

Their hands shimmer with the same green that helped them survive Flowey. With the same green that helped them save a Hypergod. That green they’ve taken within their soul they’re now giving to Aofil. They feel the cracked soul beat with renewed vigor just like theirs did back then as the green envelops its red contours. Frisk pushes more of the green through them. Their soul again swells within them until it begins pushing out of their skin for a second time. 

It hurts.

But it did so back then too.

And this time they’ll-

A breeze passes Frisk by.

Followed by a symphony of startled gasps.

“Child!”

That’s mom.

“Aofil! Can you hear me?”

That’s dad.

Frisk is enveloped by a pair of large and fuzzy arms, and a serene warmth washes over their head like a hot shower. Their vision turns green for a brief moment as they see the silly costumed form of their dad scoop up Aofil’s body tenderly with one arm. He casts a desperate glance over Frisk, and the arms around them unfolds with hurry. Mom pushes them into another pair of fuzzy arms which flinch scared before finding a clumsy grip. “Frisk isn’t as hurt as Aofil. Hold your sibling.” A long and stunned hesitation passes before Frisk is dragged away from their parents hunching over Aofil bathing in green magic.

“What happened to you two?”

That’s Asriel.

“You’ve got blood all over you! Your head is hurt! Your soul is...”

He stops and turns Frisk around to him.

“Your soul...”

He looks down at the exposed heart hovering and quivering outside Frisk’s chest. Its red shimmer is lost among the blood on their drenched sweater. At its center rests a core of white, glistening and shuddering from being exposed outside its vessel. Asriel timidly grabs at his torso, and brings out his monster soul surrounding the small red core of his own.

The light from Asriel’s soul, fur, and now brimming teeth has Frisk squinting.

The squinting has them feeling tired.

But they can’t be tired! Aofil is-

“Call an ambulance, Papyrus! Tell them to meet us at the foot of the mountain. Sans?”

That’s dad again.

“We’ll take you to a hospital, Aofil. Just hold my hand, human. I won’t let go of it.”

That’s mom again.

“You’ll have to carry Frisk to River Person, Asriel! They’ll be here in a minute or so! Let’s go!”

Undyne.

“Mettaton is on h-his w-way to the elevators w-with Muffet. He’ll m-meet the Royals at the t-top. I g-got h-half of the first a-aid kit with me here with River P-Person!”

Alphys, through Undyne’s phone.

“F...Frisk...”

That’s…

“No, don’t speak, Aofil. Conserve your strength.”

It was…

Frisk’s head slumps over Asriel’s shoulder as he takes off with Undyne next to him. 

Their vision fades into a flickering darkness.

With a relieved smile on their lips.


	174. A night not to remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to canon.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. No pets allowed, again. I ain’t got no damn clue how you managed to get it through the front desk the first time, but as very clearly stated plenty of times to you now, by me first and foremost, you need to leave it outside. I am the attending physician for the patients you’ve requested a visit for, so my word is law for whomever requests visiting hours outside the family. The King and Queen have given you access on their side, but I still have veto due to medical reasons.”

Awake?

Is Aofil awake?

“Would you be so kind as to not cause any more friction, please, Miss Muffet? The King and Queen’s influence stretches as far as wavering visiting hours, but not hospital and patient security. Your pet has already eaten one potted plant, need I remind you. I ask of you again to please obey this hospital’s rules lest I need to contact the Dreemurrs again at this hour. Yes, some spider coffee would be nice, but it won’t change my mind on allowing your pet.”

Faint hints of the gentle and savory smell of freshly baked spider pastries tickles at Aofil’s lungs like warm sunshine. Their eyes flicker open slightly over the course of a handful of seconds as their awareness return to them. They’re not yet aware enough to be frightened by the thought that for something to come back it must’ve gone away in the first place, aided much by the somewhat fruity aroma of fresh frosting. It’s something wonderful to wake up to, even if Aofil feels a slight hint of wrong underneath the protective frosty layer.

Blood pie, most likely.

“I strongly doubt that your pet doesn’t carry any allergen considering that you ostensibly keep it inside your bakery. Even if that’s the case, it’s slobbered a trail of saliva that’s posing a high risk for our patients. Magic saliva, while sterile, is still very much slippery. I’ll meet you and bring the bakery into the room if that’s a priority for you. Then you can come and visit when your pet is outside, alright?”

A deep sigh flutters through loose lips after a long couple of seconds before the harsh hiss of a slide-door being rapidly open. “Why don’t you move to Ebott’s hospital?” comes out with a mock idiotic voice. “You can just watch Mettaton all day since they’re quite a lot of monsters there now. Not a lot of need for human doctors with healing magic at every corner.”

The door hisses even harsher as it’s closed, and heavy steps are muffled through it. “Woshua? Can you come with me, please?” A few steps later it becomes quiet again.

It’s quite loud though, this quiet. Beeps, half-snores, gentle commotion from the slightly ajar window, and the distant sound of traffic. It’s not a quiet that Aofil’s used too, so guess they’re awake now.

But where?

A sharp and stinging pain rings out from their chest as they try and sit up, and they fall back onto their sterile-white bed with a guttural groan. It awakens the pair of ungracefully sleeping blue and yellow monsters leaning on each other’s head on a couch across the room. Like the last dying whirs of an old and rusty engine, Alphys inhales a startled snort that has her flinching even more. Her tail instinctively curls around her body, knocking off Undyne with a confused yelp and flailing arms. She lands on the cold hospital floor face first, and glides on it for a bit before stopping with her legs first almost folding over her back, only to come slamming down onto the laminate with a rough pair of slaps.

It’s very much the complete opposite from what last Aofil can remember. That soothing warmth and serene tiredness that washed over them when they and-

Oh no!

“Frisk!”

Are they still hurt? Their head was bleeding! Aofil needs to-

The pain again screams at Aofil as they throw their blanket off. They barely manage to turn their shoulder around before the cutting pain grips their entire body and tosses them on their back again. It’s not long in their hurt writhing that they’re held firm by a blue hand on one shoulder, and a less firm yellow hand on their other shoulder.

“Frisk is fine, Aof,” Undyne says almost like a scold as she squeezes down on Aofil’s shoulder. She stares hard into their eyes before her stern expression softens into a relieved exhale. “You’re fine too, thanks to them. You’ll have to wait a bit to say it though since they’re sleeping now. We can talk though since I don’t think even an explosion can wake them now.” With a quick throw of her thumb over her shoulder, she realizes a caveat that she should add quickly. “Won’t wake them in a good way, that is. Last time I checked they still had a smile on their lips while sleeping. They’ve had it on them all the way from the Underground, and it hasn’t faded yet. They’re gonna have some sore cheeks when they wake up, but I’m sure they won’t mind that. Would be like complaining about one under cooked noodle in Pap’s apple sauce with meatballs.”

“T-they r-really n-need their s-sleep, yes,” Alphys adds with a more...unorthodox...squeeze on Aofil’s shoulder. She realizes it immediately, and removes it with an embarrassed giggle. “F-First time u-using magic and all. S-same thing happened to m-me. I s-slept for alm-most half a d-day.”

Magic…

Magic?

Magic!

Undyne scoffs friendly at Aofil’s surprised face. She pats them on their shoulder as she stands up straight to reach for a nearby chair. There’s one just behind her, but she pauses her reach for a while as she casts a glance against the sofa. She shakes her head at the idea, but only after some thought to it. With one leg swinging over the backrest she drags to her facing the hospital bed, she sits down with her folded arms on the top of the chair. “Yup,” she says with a loud smack of her lips. 

The chair squeaks a bit as she turns it from side to side on its weathered plastic wheels. “Seems like you humans learn magic when you become adults now that the Barrier’s broken. It’s gonna be very interesting from now on.” It balances with great effort on only one of its bending wheels as Undyne leans in to Aofil with an eager grin. “You have no idea how jealous Asriel is,” she squeals through a whisper. “I will try my damnedest to turn that into motivation for him, mark my words.” 

“N-n-n-not...r-really,” Alphys cuts off a bit too late. “It’s about F-Frisk’s s-s-soul,” she continues after a long second. “It’s f-fused…kinda.”

Undyne’s jaw hits the floor. First figuratively from Alphys’ almost reluctant reveal, and then literally as the leg slides out from underneath her, sending her tumbling down with her confused expression shifting tone from inquisitive to startled.

Aofil gives her a courteous look to make sure she isn’t too badly hurt. Even courteous has their torso feeling like it’s being wringed and punched down on at the same time, so anything more they’re not able to do at the moment. They instead carefully swivel over to Alphys who’s squeezing the fabric of Aofil’s bed cover. She looks down at it for a split second before handing it back with too wide a smile.

Breathe in…

The fact that the two are this much like their ordinary selves means that everything is good. It means that Frisk is safe, that Aofil is safe, that everything is fine and dandy. Had it not been for the sterile walls and floor this could have just as well taken place inside Aofil’s house.

That’s how normal this is now.

Breathe out…

But if Alphys and Undyne are in their normal clothes though and not in their costumes then some time must have passed since…

…

Breathe in again...

“A-Asriel t-told me,” Alphys begins to fill the breathing silence she feels she’s created. “Frisk’s soul h-has a monster core to it. The reverse of what he has.” She meets Aofil’s eyes which open as they breathe out wearily. “L-like yours.”

Slowly emerging from the floor and over the bed’s edge is Undyne’s blazing grin. She looks straight through Aofil’s legs over to Alphys as she dramatically slams her hand down on the bed which rocks it hard. “So you’re telling me, Alphee?” Her voice shivers with excitement, and she almost drools through her teeth clutched into a blinding smile. “That I have TWO humans to train magic with?”

“Shh!” Alphys hushes harshly at Undyne, who’s smile drains into a neutral frown. With a quivering finger she points up to Aofil.

Who’s staring into a horizon neither of the two monster can see.

Magic?

“I can do magic too?” they ask into the horizon with their eyes darting in a small circle. “B-but…w-why couldn’t I before?”

Alphys’ not sure whether Aofil’s question was meant for her, but as another silence falls over her and the others, she gulps her pride. “Y-you and Frisk did s-something with E-Endogeny, right?”

“They did?” Undyne lifts up her chair again and seats herself in it properly. She scoots forward so that she can nudge Aofil back to this reality. “What did you two do?”

Aofil blinks as they’re sucked away from the thoughtful horizon. They give Undyne a quick look before they shake their lowering head. “I don’t know.”

“You can tell Alphee,” Undyne coaxes. “She if anyone can figure it out. Might even help you figure out what your magic is.” Her offered carrot isn’t as tempting as she thought it would be, as Aofil only furrows their forehead harder, shifting their fringe ever lower over their face.

“Could it be that it was meant as a birthday surprise for Frisk, Aofil?” Alphys pries surprisingly straight. She hops onto a chair as well, and drags herself the length of the hospital bed to end up right next to Aofil’s hanging head. “Endogeny emitted some very strong determination which must’ve come from either your or Frisk’s soul.” Her eyes narrow as she mutters some numbers and formulas underneath her breath. As she utters the last variables pertaining to the strength of the DT field, she begins to trail off while her eyes widen along her quickened breathing closing in on panicked gasps with each inhale. “Both of you? Did both of you get absorbed into Endogeny?” The bed again rocks violently as Alphys grips its safety-fence with both her hands. “What happened? Did Endogeny attack you?”

Aofil peers through their cleaned hair to the closed drapes on the other half of the hospital room. Behind them Frisk must be sleeping. They said that they had a plan to explain it to the others, but it won’t do any good with the plan being in their sleeping head, is it?

And speaking of sleeping, Aofil is feeling a bit tired now too. The adrenaline from the pain they had before is starting to wear off. “I’m sleepy,” they say through a small yawn. “My head’s a mess.”

“I need to know,” Alphys states with even more sincerity and importance as Aofil slowly lays down to rest again. The wheels of her chair squeal as she follows their head. “I need to know, Aofil.” She crashes into the wall and her chair stops with a violent shake as Aofil’s head reaches their pillow. With a hurried movement of her fingers, Alphys pushes up her glasses back up on her nose. “One human soul reacting with Endogeny’s I know how to handle, but two of them I don’t have any contingency plans for. I need to know exactly how and to what extent you and Frisk’s soul interacted with Endogeny.”

Another silence of Alphys’ making, but this one she fills with her own deep and hurried breathing. Her eyes are piercing through Aofil’s fringe without any loss of intensity as the wall-mounted clock ticks heavily above the crowded hospital bed. Despite it not being awkward, she can’t handle this silence as well. Not because of her embarrassment flushing through her.

But of her fear.

Her eyes begin wandering around with her teeth gritting harder and harder with each rapid turn of her head. “Alphee?” Undyne tries in vain. “What are you...” She gets nothing back, only some slight blurring of the yellow spikes on the back of Alphys’ as she investigates what’s in her immediate surrounding.

Alphys’ head locks at Aofil’s left arm which she lifts up like it was a stick on the road. Layers of tightly wrapped bandage span the length of their sleeve and hand, besides one layer at the bend of their arm. It’s loosened to not choke a small rubber tube that leads up to a clear plastic bag hanging from a metal arm. Alphys follows the tube up between two of her fingers. She stops them at a mounted clamp that she angles towards herself. With her thumb on the small regulator she-

“Alph!” Undyne finally manages to puncture through that thick and stubborn skull as Alphys’ startled hand lets go of the clamp. “What are you doing?” She leans over to slap the tube out of Alphys’ hand, but Alphys takes a step back away while grabbing the clamp again. Aofil lets out a gritted cough as the tube tenses at their arm. Their eyes remain closed though.

It’s like they’re having a bad dream.

One that might be reality for Alphys.

“I. Need. To. Know. Undy.” Tears begin to swell inside her eyes as she takes another step backwards, but not far enough to risk the tube dislodging from Aofil’s arm. “I know this is wrong,” Alphys chokes out as she presses her thumb against the flow regulator again, “but what if Endogeny breaks free while still being influenced by both their souls!”

“Then we’ll deal with that if that happens,” Undyne retorts with a vicious slash in the air. Her soul hurts when she does, but she have to. She can’t let her Alphee do any more experiments on living beings. She promised her she’d keep her life’s lizard away from relapsing! This...this is twice of that! “For now Aofil has to rest. They’ve almost died once today, Alphys.”

The tensed, yellow hand slips off the regulator, and Aofil’s face contorts in slight pain as the tube swings freely back and forth. Alphys burrows herself into her palms while she sinks back down into her chair. Her tail curls around the metal tube from the seat to the wheel base, and she turns herself around. 

“W-w-w-what was I t-t-thinking!”

The quivering waves clouding her eyes meld together with the wrinkles and folds of the curtains around the second hospital bed in the room. It almost gives her vertigo as she stares at it with her mouth and lips shaking. 

Undyne’s hands balls into a fist hardened in anger. Not at Alphys, but at herself. She hates that she has to do this. That she has to coarse her voice and words to her anime lizard. It’s times like this that she feels like she’s failed in her promise, but it’s also times like this that she has to uphold it to whatever self-hate it might bring her. She angles her head down at Aofil. A brief and subtle thought of blame flashes through her, but she shakes it off, balling her other hand in the process. “Would you do the same to Frisk?” she finally confronts after a long inhale. “Would you risk tempering with their medicine too?”

“...I...”

No, she wouldn’t. Undyne knows that. She knows that Alphys wouldn’t do it to Aofil either. It’s her past coming back to claw at her again. When she was the Royal Scientist before the Barrier. Amalgamates on her mind, her entire mind.

“A-A-Aofil...I’m s-s-so...”

Undyne walks around Aofil’s bed with long steps so that she can envelop her Alphee inside her sturdy arms, and let her hug back in return. Let her cling to Undyne’s back and pull her closer so that she can cry on Undyne’s sturdy shoulder. “I gotcha, Alphee,” Undyne calms with a gingerly squeeze to make her feel safe. “I’m here.”

“I’m scared, Undy...”

“I know.” Undyne nestles her neck between her lizard’s spikes so that she can rest her head to comfort more. “I’m scared for them too.”

“I almost-”

“You didn’t do it. You only thought about it because you wanted to help, Alphys. Now let’s help them. Let’s leave them alone to sleep it off.”

The sides of the spikes chafe at Undyne’s neck as Alphys shakes her head in protest. “I would’ve done it! I would’ve forced Aofil to wake up so that I could ask them about what happened and I wouldn’t have been satisfied until I got an answer! L-like how those humans in suits did to them when they almost died in the Underground all those years ag-go!”

Undyne remembers that. Those following days of rehabilitation. Aofil’s lucky their monster soul’s helped them heal their bulging scars since then. This is even the same hospital which they stayed in before.

Perhaps even the same room.

Fryish is still being served too in the cafeteria with the view towards Mt. Ebott.

“You didn’t though,” Undyne reminds gently as Alphys’ begins to relax her tightened hug. “You didn’t wake them up.”

“That’s because you were here.”

Undyne rolls out her neck from between Alphys’ spikes. She puts her blue forehead against Alphys’ yellow one, and eases the two down in unison. “And why wouldn’t I be with you, Alphys?” She gives her lizard a peck on her wrinkled snout. “You’re my bestest lizard in both the Underground and on the Surface. You have so many facts in your smart head that it’s hard for you to accept that, but it is. It is the nerdiest fact both you and I know. Together.”

A clumsy snort explodes in a cry from Alphys, and Undyne smiles happily as her ears twitch to try and burrow themselves into her skull. Alphys only does that when she’s at the peak of her emotional limit. When she can only snort and pool her tears in the deepest furrows of her snout. Same with anime, same with Undyne reminding her how much she loves her brilliant little lizard. All of that brilliance is now crying instead of punching at her psyche with those horrid thoughts.

Crisis averted.

“If you want to step outside to call MK to check up on Endogeny, that’s fine. I’ll keep my eye on both of our humans while you get some fresh air. It’ll do you good.” Undyne gives Alphys another kiss between her eyes to send her off. “See if you can help Muffet chain up her abomination too.”

Perhaps not the best word to use at the moment, but frankly Undyne’s a bit tired too. “Could you bring back some coffee or tea?” She catches Alphys’s just about to open the sliding door. With a timid turn, Alphys gives a nod back.

“I m-might have s-some myself, actually.” Her free hand rubs at her forehead as she sighs. “In case MK has q-questions I need to think about w-when answering.”

“Some spider bakery while I’m asking?” Undyne appends after catching a wayward crumb stuck in her teeth while she runs her tongue along their tinted backsides. “We should have some at the ready for when the two wake up.” She finds another one on the other side of her mouth. “They only need one each though.”

Alphys huffs a subtle giggle at it before opening and disappearing behind the curtains. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small smile is better than nothing, especially after the dramatic scene that unfolded just now. The tube is still moving back and forth, partly because of Undyne’s sigh as she lets her hands run down her face, stretching her lips and flicking at her ear-fins to leave them hanging. With a quick nip, loose enough as to not disturb the flow of the medicine, she halts the tube in its swinging.

The clock on the wall ticks over to tomorrow.

It’s been such a long day, and that it had to end like this…

“Why do you humans insist on doing stuff alone when we can help you with it?” Undyne asks to a deeply asleep Aofil. She turns her head over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised high. “Same to you, Frisk. You don’t know how anything related to magic works, and the first thing you do when you presumably find out about it inside yourselves is to play around with an amalgamate. What if you’d fuse together with it and...I don’t know, traveled to the past or something?” 

Her scoff is slightly worried, almost as if realizing that a bright and shiny star is actually a meteor. “You’ve already managed to make miraculous saves twice now with magical flukes. Frisk once with the Barrier, and you with Asriel, Aofil. The fact that you both are pushing your luck says more about the human soul being so full of itself rather than anything else.”

The seat on Alphys’ chair bounces a few time as Undyne falls into it. Her hair and fins oscillate in rhythm until she brushes away the hair over her patched eye. Both her arms fold over her chest, and she leans back with her legs extended. With a careful scoot she rolls the chair over the floor to check behind the curtains. 

Frisk is sleeping as deeply as Aofil is. They’re not sleeping worriedly though, Undyne can hear that from the sound of their breathing. It’s not the same as when they were under that Memory Box effect. It’s more...healthy...so to speak. Or so to snore, in this case. Healthy is the closest word Undyne can describe it with. It’s longer and more inhaly. More air in, and more air out. No sharp and short ones like their body is thinking that it’ll be the last batch of air it’ll ever get.

Like how Alphys does when she has her nightmares.

Not here though.

The two humans are breathing healthily in this hospital with their souls so full of themselves and of calm wherever there’s space left. 

If there’s any space left.

Undyne’s smile mirrors that of Frisk’s. A content one that two friends share when they know the other’s all safe and sound. This however is one family member smiling at the other. It’s stronger. If the curtains hadn’t been closed then Alphys would’ve realized that her thoughts weren’t her own quicker, and maybe by herself. Undyne doesn’t blame her though. The subdued hope and warmth from both Aofil and Frisk’s auras at the moment is like walking into a sauna ready to do some good sweating only to realize that it’s a walk-in freezer.

And Mettaton’s there.

Naked.

And with a long string of contracts instead of a towel.

Undyne shudders.

She’s tempted to close the window now.

The crisp air of the night does good for the humans though, so she’ll weather it for them. Although, now that she thinks about it…

With one hand, Undyne moves over a potted plant from the corner onto the overlapping flaps of the curtains. Should be enough to make sure no wind will blow them apart and reveal Frisk.

And more importantly, their horns.

Undyne casts a glance on Aofil’s bandaged arm. It’s a similar deal there, hiding the magical growth spurts until they’re ready to be shown. Until they’ve all collectively figured out a good explanation for the human kid of the Monster Royals growing horns, and the human teacher at the Monster School getting a sleeve full of Boss Monster fur. It has to be worded very carefully so that it doesn’t pertain that they’ve fused with monsters.

Even if it’s smack on the truth.

“I’m excited to incorporate some magic into our training, by the way.” Undyne nods once to both Aofil and Frisk. “Asriel should be able to step up his game with his sibling practicing magic with him. Maybe the human part of his soul with begin to pull its weight too if it feels you doing magic too, Aofil.” Her face flashes into an eager smile that competes with the bright moon observing silently through the window. “Ngahaha! It’s gonna be so much fun! I can’t-”

The door slides open with a furious hiss. “Shhh!” hushes a nurse very similarly to the door’s hiss before closing the door with eyes staring down at Undyne cowering in her chair.

“Sorry,” she mouths through the glass at the enraged human with her fingers curled and ear-fins bent down. The nurse rolls his eyes with a scoff and storms off with an accompanying Aaron wearing a similar hospital scrub.

“I can’t wait,” Undyne repeats while casting a glance at the glass door. No angry human or miffed Aaron this time around. “I’m really excited about this, but at the same time I’m very worried. It’s gonna be freaking awesome with you two knowing magic, but how you’ve enabled yourself to do magic is...”

Her tired lips flutter as she exhales.

“Is stupid and dumb and idiotic.”

Really only the words that are good enough to describe.

“I mean, really, we didn’t just kick in the door of the first human we met and...”

Bad example. Undyne has to try again.

She can’t.

“Look, just...don’t? Please?” Her exasperated sigh could fill a zeppelin. “Come to us monsters with magic concerns, alright? Don’t try and figure it out on your own. Worst case, well,” Undyne’s broad motion of her hand from Aofil over to Frisk has her spinning around one revolution, “this! That you’re both out of commission because you thought you could bench world record on your first day! Singe my soul with you humans!”

There’s a knock on the glass door behind her. Undyne palms her forehead as she turns around in defeat. “Sorry for yelling again. I-”

Behind the sliding door isn’t an angry nurse or angry Aaron. The face smiling through the glass isn’t angry at all. It’s friendly, albeit very, very tired.

“Got you the spider coffee you asked for.”

Undyne takes the spiderweb-painted cup in her hand. “Thanks.”

The free chair squeaks as Asriel sits down in it. He unloads the other filled cup in his hand onto the bedside table next to Aofil. A box of spider donuts next to it, and a spider-adorned thermos behind it. He angles his head to the side to let two empty cups slide off them and into his palm, which he then puts along with the rest.

“Anything that happened?” he asks after a careful sip to test the temperature of his tea. “You and Alphys can go home if you want. Papyrus’ waiting for another ten minutes outside, but afterwards you’ll have to call him.”

“Aofil woke up for a brief moment before they fell back asleep,” Undyne relays after letting the heat from the cup spread throughout her. She sips at her spider coffee carefully. “Otherwise it’s been quiet.”

Asriel can tell that its a lie. With Aofil and Frisk’s subdued auras, Undyne’s intention stick out more than her hair color. He raises a knowing eyebrow, and Undyne scoffs a small chuckle that causes a slight splash in her coffee. “You look just like your dad when you do that, you know? He’d do the same to me when I used to give my reports a bit more spice to them when I trained under him back in the days. Just a couple of added zeroes, no biggie. For me, that is! Because I was so awesome!”

“Did you try and change the subject just as drastically too when he understandably called you out on your bullshit?” Asriel retorts with his eyes narrowing.

But that only widens Undyne’s smile to reveal the stains of coffee gliding down her teeth like drops of rain on a window. “And that’s your mom right there, Azzy. Well, minus the Flowey mouth, but from what I’ve heard she wasn’t always a queen, so I’m not counting it out fully from her.” After closing her lips and rolling her tongue underneath she flashes a more whiter smile. “She must’ve let one or two Froggits loose out of her mouth since then though. Like when that purple lizard monster that loves to steal chalk and her human friend with the disheveled hair crashed into the lockers in that janitor’s closet as Toriel was on her way inside through the door to fetch some glass beakers.”

Asriel keeps his challenging eyebrow raised and unamused eyelids lowered at Undyne.

“I mean...it’d probably pop out of her because she was scared rather than her being malicious, but still.” Undyne shrug is deep and exaggerated, probably mimicking what the kids did when they stood up from the mess they made.“I’d imagine her swearing at that point.”

Undyne’s obviously stalling to not answer. Something must’ve happened here then. Something involving Alphys, most likely, judging by the way her voice was when Asriel met her at the hospital entrance. There’s nothing visibly wrong with Aofil though, and Asriel shouldn’t wake them up if they’re sleeping rather peacefully. However, there’s a suspiciously placed potted plant on the curtains around Frisk. Asriel stands up as he takes another sip, and walks over to the curtains surrounding his sibling with his finger inside the cup’s ear. With a rather dismissive flick, he moves one of the curtains away to peek inside.

Nothing strange about Frisk.

Besides the obvious.

Asriel runs his finger gingerly along the length of his horns. There is a slight resemblance to Frisk’s shape, but no one would be able to tell at a glance. It’s more a fifty fifty mix of mom and dad’s horns, while Asriel’s are more weighted with his dad’s shapes.

Seeing horns sticking out of a human’s skull is unsettling though, despite how beautiful and healthy they look. Frisk’s hair is parted weirdly around the bases, but hopefully that can be solved with their next haircut. The overall image though is again more unsettling than jarring. Maybe it’s because of the events surrounding their growth rather than their actual growth…

Well, to be honest, it’s definitely the events surrounding at the moment. Asriel was at it for almost an hour cleaning the blood out of his fur, but he can still feel the stickiness of it as he watched Frisk and Aofil be rolled away with haste on those stretchers. He’s been in hospitals before with mom and dad, but today was something completely different.

Fluffbun…

Asriel’s somber breath through his nose has the curtain folding over his muzzle as it falls back down. He shakes his head slowly. “They didn’t even get a piece of their birthday cake.”

“Toriel and Asgore managed to quell the populous back home?”

The thin, opaque rubber of the curtain has the fur on Asriel’s cheek standing up from the static created by him swiveling his head. The tuft on his head bends almost like a spiral. “Due to molten activities causing an accident in the celebrations, Frisk and Aofil have been injured,” he explains with his voice scarily close to Asgore’s. Undyne has to blink a couple of times for her to still see Asriel and not his father standing with his hands shoved into his shirt’s pockets. “The two humans are stable and in good medical care. We will be pushing forward the celebrations until next week.”

“Anything else?” Undyne pries.

“Only heard it in passing as Pap drove me here,” Asriel informs in his own voice as he looks out the window to the moving dots on the freeway a few yonders away. “Mom and dad are probably juggling questions at the moment. They’d come over when they’ve sorted it all out.”

Asriel’s understandably glum about it. Same with Undyne, same with everyone. It’s a good thing Muffet brought with her coffee and donuts, even if it also meant her bringing with her that pet of hers. With a small cyan spear conjured around her index finger, Undyne slices the spider silk tied in a bow on the top of the box of pastries. The lid bounces open like a treasure chest, and Undyne takes a deep inhale of the steam celebrating its freedom. “What should I leave for Frisk?” she asks their brother as she spins a spider donut filled with...chocolate...around her finger. The taste she deduces with a quick bite which causes the party to spin unevenly.

Asriel turns his head around to Undyne holding the box of donuts open at him.

“Don’t touch the snail flavored ones,” he makes sure as a priority. “I think I need one right now.”

“As if I would,” Undyne whispers under her breath with her quick frown tensing her throat’s tendons.

Oh well, that’s her problem that she doesn’t like snails.

“Could you throw one over.”

“You said that I shouldn’t touch them though, Prince.”

“You know what I meant, Leader of the Royal Guard who’s supposed to obey the Royal Family’s orders.”

Prince got some King building inside him! Nice. Ngahahaha!

“Lean your horn down so that I can-”

“No,” Asriel cuts off firmly. Instead he offers his raised palm for Undyne to throw the pastry into.

“You’re not like your father at all in this regard,” she scoffs out disappointingly. With a confident flip of her wrist, she sends the spider donut flying across the hospital room. It connects with Asriel’s palm with a soft thud, and he hangs it around one of his fangs.

He keeps shifting between acting like Toriel and acting like Asriel faster than Papyrus flipping through channels.

“And save one or two butterscotch filled ones for Frisk,” Asriel adds with the tip of his tongue at the tip of his fang to hold his snack still.

Ever so slightly, Asriel thinks himself feeling Frisk’s aura again. He allows some pride to dance around inside him for that.

“And for Aofil?” Undyne’s muffled voice asks through her filter of fried dough.

“Your guess is as good as mine with them,” Asriel informs as he begins making his way towards the empty sofa. “One with spider filling, perhaps?”

“They’ve got a taste for spiders lately, that’s for certain.”

Aofil’s brow furrows briefly.

Undyne scoffs a laugh into her mouthful of pastry, sending a few crumbs bouncing on the rosy cheeks. “I don’t think we even have to save any since Muffet will be stuffing them full from here on now.”

“Do you want one with spider filling then?” Asriel wonders as he sinks down into the sofa. It squeaks a bit.

“Never,” Undyne answers as she stacks a few doughy rings on her finger. She nods towards the door, and Asriel replies with a nod of his own. “See you tomorrow then, you absolute magical morons,” Undyne wishes with all of her love and soul to the two sleeping humans. “Training starts at five in the morning! Ngaah!”

Her eagerness is muted drastically by the closing glass door. Asriel leans his neck over the top of the sofa’s backrest until his horns tap at a windowsill. He taps them a bit more before leaning forward and hunching over his knees. After coaxing the last piece of his pastry into his mouth and washing it down with some of his tea, he lets his eyes wander from Aofil’s bed to Frisk’s curtains.

He takes a deep breath.

“Why do you humans insist on doing stuff alone when we can help you with it?”


	175. Arm's reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Muffet sketch by PolarisSketches!](https://polarissketches.tumblr.com/)

“Alphys?”

“Yes?”

“You know when I asked you to subdue, if not completely remove, the personality of my house?”

“Y-yes?”

An umbrella featuring Mettaton in a variety of poses lands like a spear between Aofil and Alphys, throwing up gravel on the two’s shins as if the ground just sneezed. As the creeping shadow absorbing the front lawn sneaks up to where they stand on the gravel path, the umbrella pops open on its own after a couple of beeps. “Mettaton branded clothing may or may not be compatible with rain, so as a courtesy I’ve opened up to protect you from having your fabulousness swept away like tears in the rain when you cry over having said fabulousness swept away like tears in the rain when you-”

Aofil closes the umbrella and throws it inside their opened front door leaning down to them. “Did you miss me?” they ask hesitantly while craning their head back from the door handle swinging just in front of their nose, unsure whether they should actually talk to their house.

Their computer monitor shattering a few steps behind them as their house nods longingly answers that conundrum, and Aofil sighs hard with their bandaged hand pinching their nose. They can hear their furniture rattling from inside like an eccentric round of pinball.

Here’s the thing though.

They’re happy their house is nodding their curtains loose from its windows. They’re happy they’re hearing their dinner plates crash from inside, and that some of the shards are raining down on them. They’d open up the umbrella again had they’d been brave enough to withstand the recursive Mettaton.

They’re happy because this is normal to them.

And normal is something they need now.

Aofil lowers their hand with another sigh. “It’s good to be home.”

“D-d-do you still w-want the personality m-module disabled?”

Oh definitely! “Please,” Aofil requests with a smile. “But keep the cutlery as they are though.” They bend down on their plastered knees. “Those I feel that I’ll be needing a bit with everything in disorder.” With their bandaged hand they grab the handle of their bag and-

Their other hand comes up hurriedly to clutch at their chest. “Argh!” The ache exploding from inside their chest reverberates throughout their body in waves, bouncing off their fingers, toes, and skull, only to surge back into their torso and repeat the process. It is as if someone took a chisel to their boes.

Damn!

Alphys catches them stumbling forward with a pair of terrified arms.

“Y-your heart?”

Aofil shakes their head. No. No, it’s not that.

“Y-your soul?”

Yes. Aofil nods. Yes, it’s their soul.

“T-try your other hand then,” Alphys advises while dragging the bag around to Aofil’s other side. “C-could be t-that the m-magic f-from your h-house is t-too m-much for y-you at the moment.” They straighten their back as the echoes begin to fade, and again bend down to grab its textile handle.

“Or!” comes a loud and scolding decree from behind. “You could just not carry it at all since you’re still hurt!” Undyne’s quick and precise hand snatches the bag just as Aofil’s about to grab it, and she swings it over her shoulder as she whistles for the house’s attention. “Go back and sit down again,” she orders with a harsh snap of her finger. “Your owner needs you to be normal for once! Sit down before they get properly allergic to magic!” The house takes a startled step back as Undyne juts her head forward menacingly. “Go on!”

With its downpipes slumping down at its upper corners, the house takes another shaky step backwards with its pink legs and black high heels. The loud sounds of its internal servos and cogwheels whir somewhat melancholy despite the rapidness. More and more strands on Undyne’s hair stand up as she nears the now ground-level door handle with her hand. “Ngaah!” she shouts while letting go of Aofil’s bag from her other hand tensed by the static shocking her from the metal handle. She whips her arm up and down in an attempt to shake the numb feeling off, but it doesn’t really help.

“Don’t punch my door in, please,” Aofil pleads with a hasty holler halting Undyne’s hurling harrumph. They nod to Alphys as thanks for giving them some support, and she nods back with a relieved smile. “You know full well it needs to ground itself for a while.”

“Rubber heels, remember Undy?” Alphys adds as she follows Aofil up the gravel with her tail curled slightly behind them in case they feel another surge from their soul. Aofil seems to be walking normally without any flinches, so perhaps it was just the magical identification that spurred the hurt.

“Yes, yes!” she shouts exasperated down the path while shaking her arm one last time. “Heat insulation and all that!” She slaps hard at the handle just in case there’s another shock waiting for her. If she hurts herself and is prepared for it she won’t notice the electricity! Ngahaha! Outwitted, house!

Her brow sinks over her eyes as her upper lips curl in slight confusion.

Did she just acknowledge a house as a worthy opponent?

“I g-got it,” offers Alphys as Aofil bends over to pick up their bag lying on the first step up to their door since Undyne seems to be a bit too paralyzed by the static shock she got to pick it up again. The telltale sign of her ear-fins hanging like wet pieces of paper indicating that she’s in deep thought and hasn’t enough outside awareness to keep her fins opened has Aofil exhaling a chuckle through their nose.

They remember vaguely something about her asking Alphys to find a warm towel for her head since her fins were sore from being stiffened like stone throughout the entire run through the Underground and on the ride to the hospital. 

It’s good that they’re now folded like curtains on a bright sunny day, such as today. Another sign of things being normal now after last weekend.

“I’ll p-place your b-bag on the dining room table, Aofil,” Alphys informs before pointing a claw towards the basement door which she then uses to push up her glasses. “Then I’ll d-disable the p-personality locally like you ask-ked.”

“Sounds good,” says Aofil while they follow Alphys heading in to the kitchen teeming with busy cutlery jumping around to clean the place up. She wobbles between two long knives helping with breaking up some of the porcelain plates into pieces which fit into the dustpan being manned by three forks and one spoon. 

“Excuse me, excuse me,” she apologizes while stepping over some spilled flour.

Completely normal.

“You planning on returning to us anytime soon?” Aofil shoots over to Undyne along with a friendly elbow on her arm. It doesn’t have Aofil bending over in pain this time, so perhaps it was just a one time thing? The tip of Undyne’s long hair slaps at their neck as she blinks herself back to reality. 

With a quick smile she none too subtly kicks her heel on Aofil’s front door. “You’re one to talk like that,” she retorts before realizing that perhaps it wasn’t the best choice of words, to be perfectly honest. Her smile degrades into a stretched frown as she holds her breath for Aofil’s reaction.

They breathe out through clenched teeth and loose lips. “Yeah.” Their hand comes up to their stiff neck to massage it. “I guess.”

“Sorry, Aof,” Undyne apologizes. “Slipped out of me.”

“It’s fine.” Aofil nods to Undyne’s hesitant expression. They put their naked arm around her shoulders. “I got you guys there for Frisk and I, don’t I?”

Undyne throws her arm over Aofil’s shoulders too. “You do, Aof. You’re extremely lucky to have us wonderful monsters at your side.” Aofil challenges that with a playfully raised eyebrow, which Undyne chooses to promptly ignore. “And you’re pushing that luck every single day.”

“That’s why you love me though.”

Undyne’s arm chafe against the bare skin on Aofil’s neck as she retracts it with a loud laugh. “Ha! Ngahahahaha!” She throws a loose fist against their arm while she shakes her extremely amused head. “Push becoming shove with your luck now, Aof!” With a snap of her thumb further inside, she nods for Aofil to follow her. “How about you be a proper host and make your guests some tea?”

“Do we have time for that?” Aofil wonders while they step over a pair of salad tongs gripping the umbrella stand to hold it steady for a spatula to deposit the thrown umbrella back where it belongs. “Frisk should be home by now too, right?”

After some quick and directed stares from Undyne, the kettle is fetched by some forks and brought underneath the sink. “I’m guessing the Royals want to land a bit themselves before beginning the magic training with you two,” she begins after waiting for the rushing water filling the kettle to stop. She continues to direct the carrying cutlery with her eyes and eyebrows as she seats herself on a chair at the table. “Might be good for you to land a bit too before taking off towards the land of magic. Gonna be some turbulence on the way there.”

“I think I’ve earned enough to be an honorary citizen of magic land by now.”

“Do you remember your first visit there? Can you recall when you first applied for being a teacher with Toriel?”

That Aofil can. It’s still quite vivid despite the other timelines popping up at the same time.

However, they’re a bit more worried that Undyne can remember too. Her demeanor seems quite collected though in regards to that memory, which is good. It only shifts into hardened furrows when she tries to order a certain heat underneath the tea kettle using nothing but varied raising of her brows and spinning of her iris.

“Medium high but let it simmer for a bit longer before boiling,” Aofil translates while they sit down opposite of Undyne. They move their bag to the side before tipping it over and opening it up.

“I was just about to have them understand,” Undyne protests with a childish huff. She folds her arms with her eyes peering into the living room. Aofil takes the opportunity to begin unpacking their bag from the weekend. It’s not a lot to unpack, only their change of clothes that they didn’t got a chance to wear. A nice blue jeans jacket with a pink shirt underneath which reflects the color of their cheeks. Those fancy jeans pants they rarely get a chance to wear too.

Hang on...why aren’t the ankles folded up?

“Wait...” Undyne’s head turns slowly back from the living room, abandoning the supervision of cutlery trying to flip back the large leather sofa amid a sea of books fallen out of the bookshelves. “How did you know the temperature I wanted?”

“That’s how you always want your tea, right?” Aofil...defends? Are they really though? It didn’t sound accusatory, what Undyne said. Although, it sounded very much like she wanted an answer, and that it was quite important that she got one. Her arms folding deeper is an additional clue that has Aofil feeling a bit more defensive about this.

“You didn’t feel what I was thinking?” Undyne almost states with her eyes hardened. “I just want to know, Aofil.” One of her arms unfold to press down at the table with three fingers. “This might be a clue to what magic you have,” she punctuates with rigid taps on the darkly polished wood. “What am I thinking now? I’ll try and project it as far into my aura as possible. You just let me know what number I’m thinking of, alright?”

Guess magic training starts now then. Aofil shoves their clothes back into their bag and push it aside. 

“Oh, what I was saying before,” Undyne halts. “And while we also wait for Alphee, since she might want to be present for this,” she adds while leaning her head out to listen into the hallway for any steps, but with the commotion around along with the bubbling water from the kettle it’s like listening for a single specific raindrop in the Waterfall. “You do remember what happened during your first teacher interview when you suggested we meditate?”

Aofil again holds a silence as they wait for Undyne’s reaction to that second Surface memory. She again seems to be not bothered by it, and Aofil accepts that with a nod which doubles as an answer to Undyne. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Y-you connected j-just the s-slightest with us,” Alphys surprises by emerging from the living room rather than the hallway. She walks past the table to the kettle to turn it around so that the pipe dispenses its steam underneath the fan rather than outside it. “Y-your house should be settled now, Aofil. I t-turned the personality module off. I’ll keep the rest turned on s-since it looks like your is no longer confused b-by your house’s aura. C-call me if you s-start feeling strange.”

“I will.” Aofil pulls out a chair for Alphys to sit down on. “And thanks.”

She replies in kind, “To you too,” before clearing her throat. “My g-guess about t-the m-meditation would be that your cracked soul allowed some of our magical aura to react with you. T-this time around you s-shouldn’t be as angry afterwards due to your monster part being, well, monster. Back t-then it was like an allergic reaction, or a virus to your immune system, but analogous to your soul. Your soul reacted with hostility to this foreign substance, but now that you have a t-translator from monster to human in your soul it should be a different feeling. A bit more like it’s your own.”

The kettle whistles a clean C-sharp, halting the work in the kitchen done by the cutlery. A cutlery pilgrimage marches towards their respective drawers, filling them up at their appropriate location before closing up. There’s still some cleaning up to do, but that’s for when after Aofil and their guests have enjoyed their tea in peace. “It’s that what you think my magic is?” Aofil asks as they stand up from their chair to fetch the kettle and some cups. “Some sort of...not mind reading, but aura reading?”

“You heard Asriel in your head when he...um...”

“Attacked me,” Aofil finishes for Undyne while they hand her a cup which she takes timidly.

“C-c-can w-we c-c-call it s-s-somet-t-t-thing else?” comes a very shaky suggestion from Alphys. Aofil can’t pour her the tea without risking missing the cup. “P-please?”

They just had to get it out of their system, that’s all. “I won’t mention it again.” It seems to be enough for Alphys, and she swallows her shakes to allow Aofil to pour her the hot tea. “But wasn’t that just because it’s his soul inside of me?”

Alphys looks over to Undyne as she takes a quiet sip from her tea. Undyne gives her a confident nod, and Alphys begins tapping her claw on the porcelain. “It’s k-kinda...not...a-a-anymore. L-literally, this time.”

The one drop hanging from the lip of the kettle’s pipe over Undyne’s empty cup is slurped back inside as Aofil angles the kettle back up again. They can’t pour with this enormous question mark in front of their eyes. “How do you mean?”

“Your arm, Aof.”

Undyne reliefs Aofil of the kettle so that they can sit down and look at it without worry.

Well, additional worry.

Aofil never really asked why it was bandaged up completely. They assumed it was so because it was damaged from Frisk and theirs encounter with Endogeny, but now that they think about it, they’ve never seen anyone switch out the bandages these last couple of days. It’s been switched out since it’s still fresh, so maybe it was during the night when they slept? But why? 

Undyne tops off Aofil’s cup and places it in front of them. “Frisk had magical growth with their horns.” She then fills hers up lastly. “And you already had some before Endogeny.”

Has it spread? Their fur?

“Y-yes,” Alphys answers to the obvious question blossoming inside Aofil’s staring eyes and brow lowered in thought. “F-Frisk w-we d-decided to keep b-behind the c-curtains since their g-growth wasn’t easy to h-hide. Y-yours though was possible to keep h-hidden, and if b-both humans were behind c-curtains it would’ve been...b-bad...for p-publicity.”

“Can we call it something else?” Aofil suggest while opening and closing their wrapped hand. “Or did dad specifically use ‘publicity’?”

Undyne’s sip turns into a surprised inhaled slurp, and she coughs into the bend of her arm while peering over it to make sure she isn’t spilling any of her tea while she tries to cough out the tea from the wrong throat. “Dad?” she forces out with some effort.

“Asgore, yeah,” Aofil repeats. “He held the press conference, right?”

“You said dad,” Undyne again manages to sneak out in between her hacks. “Why?”

Did Aofil? They didn’t notice. Must’ve just slipped off their tongue. “I don’t know? 

“He used ‘appearance’,” Undyne corrects after a quelled burp to punctuate her coughing. She exhales again, and like a madman, goes for another sip. Doesn’t even wait for another beat to pass, or for a sneaky cough to attack her again.

The cup in Alphys’ hands almost shatters as her body tenses up with a sharp inhale. “Y-y-yeah, s-s-sorry.” She bends her head down so that her forehead almost touches the tea. “I-I-I’m...”

“It’s fine,” Aofil lets her know with a small nod. “I’m a bit too at the moment.” They roll up their shirt’s sleeve over their shoulder to try and find the end of their wrappings. “It would explain why it’s been itching quite a bit these last days.” After some scraping with their nail as deep as they can underneath they think themselves feeling something that might be an end. Before they begin unraveling though. “Is it safe for me to remove it? No sores or wounds?”

“S-shouldn’t be. T-the d-doctor c-couldn’t f-find any.”

“Frisk did a good job with you.” Undyne leans back in her chair with her index finger through her cup’s ear. “Damn good job for it being their first time.” She sips some tea through her blazing smile. “Determined little human, that wonderful punk.”

“I do owe them money, so of course they wouldn’t let me die.”

A bit dark, yes, but Aofil will need to eventually cope with what happened, so why not begin now?

Undyne’s brow almost touches her toes. “You do?” She looks over to Alphys, who shrugs just as confused. “How much?”

“I’m kidding...”

“Oh, right.”

There’s a pause.

Why is there a pause?

“Oh come on,” Aofil mutters disappointingly. “Did you actually think I owed them money?”

Their almost disgusted glance is retorted hard by Undyne throwing her free hand up. “I don’t know the reason you and Frisk decided to dive into Endogeny!” she half-accuses with drops of tea sailing from her tongue. “And since you two are set in stone with keeping your human secrets any explanation is valid to me. You owing them money would explain a lot!”

“Like what?” Aofil counters with their bandaged arm mirroring Undyne’s throw. Alphys follows its trajectory with widened eyes. “What in God’s name would me owing Frisk money explain to you?”

“I don’t know,” Undyne shrugs. “I’ve no idea, but I’ve also no idea why amalgamate fun is apparently a weekend event for humans, so they’re both equal!”

Fluffbun, these monsters and their wild theories.

Leave Aofil in peace to unravel their fur-covered arm.

Completely normal!

With an exasperated huff Aofil returns to piddling with their bandage. “Just drink your tea, Undyne.”

“Is it gonna cost me?”

Aofil’s head almost detaches from their neck as they roll it back over Undyne’s way. She fails to hold in a chortle, and quickly reaches over for a paper towel. She deserves that, frankly. 

“I-If you want it r-replaced afterwards I can help with t-that,” offers Alphys to try and calm the situation down a bit. She drags too wide a smile for it to be natural, but Aofil feels that it calms more, actually. Another thing that’s normal.

Another thing that keep their mind away from the thought that they almost died again.

And now they’re about to reveal what their scar looks like.

With a complicated pinch and a tug, Aofil catches the end of their bandage starting at the top of their shoulder. They spin it around their index and long finger, and begin spooling the bandage around them. Barely half a ring is unfolded before a tuft of beige fur puffs out from underneath the fabric. 

“W...wow...”

That’s really all Aofil can say.

“Yup,” Undyne acknowledges with another sip. “Your entire arm, Aofil.”

“It’s not white though.” Aofil turns their shoulder over to Alphys for an answer. “Why isn’t it white?”

“S-so you’re o-okay w-with h-having y-your entire arm c-covered in f-fur?”

One thing at a time, please. “I’ll get to that after you’ve told me why it’s beige and not white like mom or dad’s.”

The soft clank of Undyne’s cup touching the wooden table is quickly followed by the sound of her entire scalp folding over her eyes. “There you go again with calling Asgore and Toriel your own parents.”

Again?

Aofil didn’t realize it.

Again.

“A-and that’s with your f-fur turning a color away from Boss Monsters. Away from Asriel’s, and more towards your own skin color.” Alphys puts down her cup on the table too as she leans her chin onto her hand with the thumb tapping at her lips. “Did Endogeny flush away Asriel from your soul and into your body, perhaps? Switched positions yet again with human and monster?” She casts a glance at Aofil’s eyes for a brief second before reaching into her coat pocket. “C-could you bend forward a bit, please?”

Aofil fastens the now longer end underneath their bandage so that they have both hands free for what Alphys’ planning. Be it good or bad, it’s important to be at the most ready with the monsters. “What is it?” they also take the opportunity to ask.

From her pocket, Alphys produces a metal tube with a small keypad on it. With a few button presses the top twists with a slight purple shine, revealing an optician’s instrument. Alphys replaces the lid with a small snap of her wrist and places it down next to her cup on the dining table. “C-close one eye,” she asks while scooting forward one hop on her chair.

Aofil’s vision melts into overwhelming brightness for a couple of seconds until Alphys hums in thought and turns off the light on the cone-shaped magnifying glass. From a bright yellow to a deep purple in the matter of seconds, it’s like they’ve been staring at their own sweater’s colors for hours on end.

They blink and rub the normal world back into view. “Found anything?”

With a metallic click, Alphys places her instrument back into the metal cylinder. “No.”

Very funny.

“N-n-not like t-that,” Alphys defends against Aofil’s unamused stare. “I m-meant that I didn’t find any of Asriel in y-your eye.”

“What do you mean?” 

Hopefully not what Aofil think she means.

But why are they thinking that she means it like that?

Is it Asriel’s influence?

Is he so in love with himself?

Better not to feed the thoughts further, to be perfectly honest.

“Y-you’re familiar with the expression that the eyes are the window to one’s soul, Aofil?”

Yes, they are.

…

Oh!

“Was he visible in my eyes before?” 

“There was a glint of him,” Undyne answers while pulling down her eye’s lower lid with her finger. Her nail is a bit too close for comfort to her exposed eye, especially with her almost poking at it willingly to make sure Aofil gets it. They do, so please stop. “Not as big a glint as when you first met Muffet here in Monster City, but frankly I think even your irises will ever be as glinty as that first spider glance was. Make sure to take a picture of when you see her next time. Ngehehehe.”

“Why so?”

“Oh...” Undyne almost whistles. “You’ll see.” She brings up her tea to her lips to hide her smile, but it’s like trying to cover Sans’ tab at Grillby’s with a napkin. “You’ll see,” she repeats with a mischievous wink shot haphazardly across the table.

“A-anyways...”

Thank you, Alphys.

“It s-seems like p-perhaps there is s-some of A-Asriel’s m-memories still l-left in your m-mind.”

“Ngahahaha! You have an Asriel hangover, Aofil!”

Aofil’s not gonna dignify that with an answer.

“D-did you perhaps h-have any d-dreams t-that could’ve b-been f-from his influence, Aofil?” Alphys continues while flipping through a notebook taken out from her other pocket. She clicks the top of her Mew Mew pen and wets the tip on her tongue. “L-like you a-as a Boss Monster, perhaps? M-maybe y-your s-soul took on t-the form of h-him a-as the transition happened? M-maybe e-even as w-when he w-was a c-child s-since that’s the piece you h-had in you?”

Nope, not at all. Aofil tries to picture all of what Alphys said for themselves, but nothing rings any bells. There was that situation with MK’s magic when Aofil felt themselves as a Boss Monster child, but that was separate from Endogeny. Even with that Alphys’ suggestions just sound absurd to them, honestly. They’ve started to accept more and more of what magic can do, but that’s just…

It’s just ridiculous, really. Shenanigans played on their mind.

The only thing it reminds them of is that strange dream they had where all the monsters turned into human women for some equally contrived and absurd reason. That’s the only connection, how absurd both things are.

They did dream of Muffet though when they were out cold at the hospital.

Oh boy did they dream of her.

Ahuhuhuhu~

It’s gonna be so good seeing her again. For whatever reason, their doctor refused to let her come visit, and for that Aofil hopes that they never get admitted into that place again. All the other monsters were fine and could visit, but Muffet couldn’t, again for whatever reason.

Aofil misses her.

And their soul feels so warm because of that.

“A-Aofil?”

They look up from their gentle smile and dreaming gaze. “Hm?”

Alphys rolls the wrist she carries the pen in. “Did you d-dream anything a-about Asriel?”

“No,” Aofil answers after having cleared their throat from their pleased hum from thinking of Muffet. “No, I don’t remember anything about Asriel or Boss Monsters.”

The glitter and plastic stars inside the thin layer of water inside Alphys’ Mew Mew pen shake and fall as she taps the end against her skull. “I’ll t-think a-about this then until l-later.” She flips her notebook close after some last scribbles and muttering under her breath. “A-after d-dinner in our b-backyard? Y-you don’t h-have to b-begin training t-today if you f-feel tired, but I think it’s a g-good idea if we c-can all talk and p-plan it together.” Alphys finishes the last of her tea while she waits for Aofil to answer.

They’ll get to that in a moment. First off they’ll unwrap their bandage fully. They’ll just be poking at it if they don’t, and it’s good if they have Alphys’ eyes on it at first. After two additional spooled layers they add their entire hand to keep the loose bandage in check. At the bend of their furry arm they abandon trying to keep the ball of tangled fabric in check, and just peel it off instead.

Their wrist is where they halt it. After that comes their hand, and that’s what they’re feeling the most unsure about. Their arm is just their arm, now covered in beige fur that’s just as soft as before. They’ll have to buy fur shampoo in bulk now, no biggie about that.

But their hand…

Is it still gonna resemble a human hand? If not, then what? A paw with five fingers? 

Well, only one way to find out.

The flat of their hand looks fine, they can even see the slight indentation in the pattern of their fur. Their thumb is sporting a more feral nail to it. Still pink, but more claw-like. Maybe they can cut it down? It’d be hidden underneath their fur though if they do that, but if they trim down the fur around that it might look more human. Same story with the rest of their fingers, which they luckily have all five still. Beige fur and more feral nail. Aofil should ask Radentim about help with how they should go about with cutting their fingers’ fur and nails.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything?” Undyne asks concernedly. She’s also finished her tea by now, and she’ll help with washing the cups and kettle once she’s sure Aofil’s okay with their arm and hand.

“It’s mostly like I’ve taken off a sock off after a long day, but spread across my entire arm, you know?”

No, Alphys and Undyne doesn’t know.

Because they have the luxury of rugged scales instead of sensitive skin.

“As long as it doesn’t hurt,” is the only thing Undyne can offer in terms of empathy since it’s not something she knows of herself. “You think you’ll be fine with it?”

Aofil nods. “I think so.” They turn their arm while they carefully run their human hand over the fur. It’s timid, and a bit sore like they said before, but it’s still the same soft feeling like it had when it just a white patch instead of a beige sleeve. “Just need it to sink in a bit.” They’ll have to take some time alone just looking themselves in the mirror for an hour or two so that they get used to it. It worked with when it was just a patch, so it should by now. Aofil was quite opposed to magic back then, so it should be smoother this time around.

“And speaking of sink.” Undyne presents her open palm for Aofil to hand over their cup.

How dare she? Aofil’s the host here! They’re the one to do the dishes!

It’ll be their cutlery doing the actual dishing, but it’s the principle that has to be upheld! Aofil instead sneaks their hand underneath Undyne’s blue arm to snatch her cup before she can protest. They scoop up Alphys’ as well through the porcelain ear, and shut their ears off to Undyne that’s about to say something in rebuttal. “Nope,” Aofil states with their back against the table facing the sink instead. “Thank you for offering, Undyne, but I’ll do the dishes.”

She refutes not as angrily as Aofil expected, and they turn their ears on again. “-or later afterwards, right?” they catch her saying from behind. They lean their head over their shoulder.

“Come again?”

Undyne drags a thoughtful frown while throwing her limp hand up. “We can do that too.” She motions for Alphys to stand up, and they both head towards the patio door. “Thanks for the tea.”

“A-and it’s g-good to s-see that you feel f-fine with your arm t-too,” Alphys adds as she holds the patio door open for her. “We’ll s-see you after d-dinner then.”

“...Yeah, see you then.”

Alphys closes the door after a smile which Aofil mirrors. They watch the two exit through Aofil’s backyard and walk over to their own house.

“You can continue now,” Aofil informs their house after they’ve moved the kettle over to the sink as well. They stretch out their skin-covered arm as a bridge so that a handful of knives and spoons can walk over it to the table to take care of their bag. Aofil’s gonna check upstairs and assess how much has gone wrong. Maybe take a shower too. Wash the hospital smell away.

They should have enough fur shampoo for now. Aofil did good in buying an extra bottle last time they went shopping, It was on clearance so it wasn’t really a massive effort, but still, they deserve a pat on their back.

And they get one.

Which has them flying out of their skin.

And fur.

“Has it stopped moving?”

The echo of Aofil’s started yell rings in their ear along with their thumping heart. The calm from the Golden Flower tea has evaporated among the adrenaline coursing through their veins. The back of their head slams against the wall as they look up a bit too quickly, and they bend over with both hands clutching at the impact. Sturdy security from their skin, and soothing softness from their fur.

“Oh my, did you hurt yourself?”

W-w-w-ait!

Muffet?

“Muffet?” falls out of Aofil’s mouth as they straighten themselves. Yes, it is indeed Muffet. Muffet hanging from the roof with seven appendages wrapped tightly around a wooden beam. “W-what are you doing here?”

Methodically, maybe a bit too methodically, she lifts one limb after another away from the beam, and repels down on a silky string. She bounces to a halt in front of Aofil’s face, her hair hanging like curtains and her smile facing upwards. “Your house let me in.”

Aofil blinks. “Okay?”

Her middle pair of arms begin to tussle nervously while her top right hand drags some hair behind her ear. With it upside down it looks completely different from how she normally looks. Aofil wonders why. “I first planned to go through the patio door,” Muffet says bashfully, yet with pride behind it. Her cheeks bloom into a light purple as her eyes close for a joyful second. “But then your front door recognized me.”

Aofil can’t remember when they added Muffet to their lock.

“Said that I was your...fufufufuf~ Your soul mate, Aofil.”

…

It’s so obvious that Aofil’s in love with Muffet that even their door recognizes it.

“Did it now?” they scoff a chuckle. “Wow...” They look to the side, but why would they? Muffet’s in front of them. They’ve wanted to see her for days now! “A-and how d-do you f-feel about it?” they stutter out while turning their head back.

Two purple hands run under their chin while another hand pushes away their fringe. Muffet drags them in towards her, and locks her lips with her soul mate.

Even with her upside down it feels wonderful, maybe even more. The way the pressure of her fangs push so softly against Aofil’s cheeks instead of their chin is…

They hold her remaining free pair of hands in theirs.

It’s so wonderful.

The cold rushing in between the human and monster as they part from the other is like a blizzard in comparison to how warm the kiss felt. They don’t dread the cold though. It’s welcoming. With it present they both know that the other feels just as they themselves do. The kiss was enough, but why settle with enough when you’re so in love?

“Ahuhuhu~” Muffet giggles.

“Ahuhuhu~” Aofil repeats.

With a quick flip, Muffet lands back down on the floor. She comes up just a bit shorter than Aofil when standing, with her top eye in level with theirs. “I think it sounds good to me.” She wraps her arms around her human, squeezing them tightly.

Because they’re hers.

“It sounds good to me too,” her human repeats, embracing her as well. Her jacket feels good against their fur and against their skin. Her hair too. Although, it’s different now. She’s gotten a haircut.

Muffet notices Aofil craning their neck back just the slightest to get a better view, and she releases the hug with a little twirl. “What do you think?” She puffs up her shortened fringe, and flicks the standing strand at the back of her head. It dances as she angles her head from side to side, letting her cheeks peek through her hair for a second on end. “I had Radentim do it.”

It looks…

“Wonderful.” Aofil can feel their smile stretch their lips to almost nothing. “You look wonderful, Muffet.” 

She strikes a pose with her tongue playfully extended.

“I found it in one of Radentim’s human magazines, and I thought that now that you’ve become a bit more monster, Aofil, I could be a bit more human! I’m glad you like it! I do too.”

Her chittering chuckle melts Aofil’s heart and soul.

“Muffin doesn’t at the moment, but he’ll come around to it if he knows what’s best for him.”

He must not be here otherwise he would’ve jumped Aofil already. It’s nice to just have the two of them now. A new normal that Aofil’s gotta get used to, but this won’t be any problem for them. They won’t even have a second’s thought to their arm with her around.

“Oh! You asked me why I was here.” Muffet clears her throat while pointing down the stairs with three arms. “I wanted to bake you something for when you came home, but then your house started moving when I was just about done with the dough.”

“It wont do it again,” Aofil assures with a smile that Muffet sends back with a pleased chitter.

“Then I’ll continue with the baking!” Muffet jumps up on her toes and pecks Aofil between their eyes before jumping up on the handrail and sliding down to the ground floor. She folds up her jacket’s arms and swings an apron off from the floor and around her neck. “Break time’s over!” she orders into the kitchen before disappearing into it. “We got a human to feed!”

That is the voice Aofil is gonna have greeting them good morning in the future. The smile they’ll receive when they greet good morning back to her.

And it’ll all be.

“Completely normal.”


	176. Warming up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Frisk sketch by PolarisSketches!](https://polarissketches.tumblr.com/)

“What am I thinking?”

Aofil’s a human…

They’re not a monster.

Their body isn’t built for this! It’s churning their stomach just thinking about it. Why did they believe for a second that it would somehow work out? That their so called ‘monster part’ would be enough to not suffer from this ordeal? That it would be enough to forego their human limitations and just march on without as much as a thought to the consequences that hovered at the distance like dark and stormy clouds.

Aofil knew about the clouds and their rumblings, they saw the creeping shadows move towards them. They greeted the clouds! They invited them with the full knowledge of what it would bring. Of the thunder, the rain, and the disappearance of the sunshine that brings with it a cold sweat that rolls like large marbles down their recently washed face and body.

They grip their chest, clutching their fingers into their skin. Their long nails almost puncture their shirt’s fabric as they hold it tight against the pain. Why? Why didn’t they see this coming? Blinded by the magic on their mind and in their soul. Have they forgotten what it is to be human? What it means to have a form made out of an intricate system of organs instead of magic and hope? 

Pain.

Nothing but pain.

Building inside their chest.

Expanding throughout them.

They can’t…

They can’t no longer!

It’s too much!

“Buuuuurp!”

Aofil immediately puts up their free hand against their mouth. A myriad of eyes turn their way, half-closed and perplexed. The eyes can’t be disgusted just yet as they’re too stunned at the moment. “Sorry,” Aofil apologizes after a small hiccup. “I tried holding it in.”

What were they thinking foregoing a proper dinner and instead only eat Muffet’s freshly baked cake before heading to their first magic lesson?

Of course they were gonna feel like this. They ate like half of it! Tomorrow morning is gonna be an unpleasant one, that Aofil can tell even now. Just horrid. Their monster transformation hasn’t reached their stomach or intestine, that at least they can conclude by now with this stomach ache. Burping helped though, and…

And…

Oh no, here comes another one.

“Burp.”

“twice is enough.”

“Sorry.”

“you disappoint me, aof.”

Wait as second here, who is Sans to give lessons in etiquette? He’s wearing three different condiments on him! Hypocrite. As usual.

Muffet takes Aofil’s monster hand in one of hers to get their attention. Their unamused stare softens into a pleased gaze as they turn their head around to her to give her their fullest of attention that she’s requesting. She leans her head on their shoulder, burrowing into their neck as much as she can. “My mom told me not to be angry against burping customers,” she tells while moving her two other arms around to Aofil’s other side. She gives them a slight squeeze, and a third belch erupts from their throat. The third Aofil manages to keep charming and only expand their cheeks slightly. They breathe it out away from Muffet, and she giggles amusingly with her fangs bouncing on her chin’s dimples like a trampoline. “It means that they enjoyed the food if they burp from it.”

Sans leans his head into Muffet’s view, and she sends him three lowered brows across Aofil’s torso. They breathe in and hold their inhale so that the daggers thrown by her eyes don’t hit them, only grace past scarily close.

“To an extent,” she adds to her doctrine while making sure that her words are as slicked with as much venom as she can muster. Aofil can almost see the drops form on the tip of her fangs, now turned violent and sharp with her mouth dragged into a deep frown. Again they hold their breath, this time harder, as to not have the poisoned dagger hit them. Muffet’s fangs look so cute and friendly while she smiles, but now she could probably open up a can with them.

With Sans being weary of his own can, the one that isn’t the can of worms he just opened, he leans back onto the fence again with his hands deeper inside his jacket’s pockets. “i’ve paid off my tab, so i’m not sure what it is you have against me at the moment.”

Muffet lifts her head away from Aofil’s shoulder, and they stifle their growl to curse out Sans for that. They’re still gonna do it inside their mind though.

Dangit, Sans!

“My Muffin somehow getting into the locked trash compatcor behind the cafe while you were visiting?”

“i just felt curious, that’s all,” Sans defends with a shrug. “it wasn’t until when i was at the trash where i noticed that your pet had swallowed my entire leg.”

Dangit, Sans? Dangit because he shortcutted Muffin into a trash compactor, but then again maybe he was justified in doing so? He didn’t turn it on, right?

Dangit, Sans. Now you’ve given Aofil a dilemma! Both of the monsters are looking to them to take their side in this, and as much as they want to instantly put their human soul behind Muffet, Sans most likely knows as much as Asriel and Frisk does about Aofil’s...opinions...about Muffet before they finally got a grip on them, so leaning more into Muffet’s camp would signal to Sans to use some ammunition Aofil would rather talk to Muffet about themselves before anyone else does.

“Because you refused to take down your feet from the table.”

Dangit, Sans.

“because i didn’t want my leg to be swallowed whole by your pet.”

Dangit, Sans?

“Because you were rude to him the visit before.”

Dangit.

“because i wanted my slipper back.”

Dangit?

“We’re here now.”

Oh thank you, Asriel!

“Hey!” Aofil greets loudly to the Boss Monsters emerging from behind the anime-inspired house. They’ll break the argument as bluntly and blatantly as possible if they have to, and it seems to be working. Just one more barrage of venom-slicked daggers from Muffet onto Sans scarily close to Aofil. 

Aofil waves with their monster arm for the three Royals, which has the Dreemurr family halting in their collective step. They glance behind them for a second before opening the gate to Undyne and Alphys’ backyard. “Good that you’re here,” Aofil adds with a welcoming smile, squinting with their left eye at the light reflected off their fur. It’s bright-orange from the sunset making the evening’s gradient at the horizon.

“Good that you’re on your feet, Aofil,” Asgore returns with a wide smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you certain about doing this so early?” Toriel follows up with a pair of concerned eyes. She takes a quickened step in front of her husband and son, and extends her open hand towards Aofil’s. “How is your arm?”

Aofil puts their hand in Toriel’s for her to examine it. The feeling is even softer than anything Aofil can remember. Their own fur brushing against hers. It’s like silk against silk. Her gentle caress flowing like warm sunshine over their arm, even more than the sun can muster. Motherly is the only word close enough to explain. Motherly after days of worry. “Oh, Aofil,” she sighs as if catching them trying, but failing, to do something to impress her as her kid. “It looks wonderful on you.”

“You’re not disappointed that it isn’t like yours anymore?” they ask while running their eyes across the three Boss Monsters. “I’ve made it my own now, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is,” Toriel replies while stroking Aofil’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve managed to make it yours, Aofil.”

“Thanks, mo-”

Woah!

Woah woah woah woah!

Way too close!

Asriel raising his eyebrow shows that Aofil halted themselves too late though, and they feel their cheeks blossom in response. “Guess that slipped out...” they say while biting their lips curled into their mouth.

Toriel only laughs it off. “Don’t worry, Aofil. You’re family to us, and you know that.”

“And besides,” Asriel chips in with a confident snicker, pointing with his thumb behind him from inside his jeans shirt’s pocket, “we’ve gotten something better in return.”

“Asriel!” Toriel chastises by throwing her hand against his chest. He bleats while trying to protect himself by pushing his shoulder in. “Don’t be so brash.” His hands don’t have time to escape his pockets, and he almost pokes his claws through the fabric. “I know I said you shouldn’t treat it as a big deal, but you can at least not be dismissive about it.”

Asgore’s snicker escapes his nostrils, and he receives a pretend-irritated hand against his massive chest too. “It’s rather interesting seeing Boss Monster fur in that color,” he tries to salvage after waiting for his wife’s stare to subside from him. It almost earns him a second one, but Toriel is so kind as to give him the benefit of doubt as to what he’ll continue on with. “If you have any questions about maintaining it you shouldn’t be afraid to ask us, Aofil. We’ll be more than happy to help you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” It’s nice of Asgore to offer, but Aofil’s been making efforts on their own to keep it presentable. Still, maybe there are some techniques to comb through it faster, or something. Aofil’s already plucked away a couple of burrs from it. 

There’s something Aofil’s wondering about though. Something is missing. The reason why they’re here to begin with. “Where’s Frisk, by the way?” They wait for a moment to read the Dreemurrs’ expressions, but they don’t reveal anything. “How are they holding up?”

“They’re on their way with Pap to fetch MK,” Asriel answers before hardening his stare into viscous diamonds against Aofil. They know why he’s doing it, and by golly he’s not gonna let them have the chance of suggesting anything in front of mom and dad. “Should be here any moment now,” he finishes before his parents get wind of it. “Where’s Undyne and Alphys?” 

The tangent is harder than Undyne playing the piano with her elbows.

Which isn’t that far from the truth, to be honest.

And speaking of elbows, Aofil’s feeling a couple of sharp ones in their side. Sharp enough to warrant their attention again. They suppress a cough that comes dangerously close to turning into a third burp before turning their head to Muffet. “If we’re gonna wait for Frisk I could fetch the rest of the cake for everyone?”

Absolutely not! That’s Aofil’s cake and no one can have a single crumble off it!

Alright, maybe Aofil can be a bit generous. They could put on some tea as well while they’re at it and-

A rather confused claw taps on their shoulder as they turn around towards their own house and away from the others. “Undyne and Alphys?” Asriel repeats as if talking to someone ill of hearing. Or easily distracted, in this case. “Where are they?”

Oh, right. Aofil forgot about that all of a sudden for some Muffet.

…

For some reason, they mean.

Yes...some strange reason all of a sudden that-

“Could you?” Asriel snaps his fingers in front of Aofil’s tilted-down head. His confusion has reached his face by now, and the tuft on his forehead is dragged down with his deep wrinkles. “Undyne? Alphys?” he says for a third time, now with his teeth exposed by his dragged-back lips. “In the house?”

“Yes,” Aofil answers with a nod. Still a bit distant though. It feels a bit like they’re...talking to themselves? They lean some more of their weight on the fence, but it does little to help. “Alphys wanted to work on some magic analyzer or something and she needed Undyne to calibrate it with her magic and all of that.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Asriel trades a slightly worried glance with his parents and with Muffet. “You’re sounding a bit like you’re Aloofil and not Aofil at the moment. You need some water?”

Aofil could do with some water, actually. “Please, and thank you.” They lean more on the fence with their head leaning into their hand. There’s a slight headache building up. Just enough to be noticeable at the moment, but it could still be building. Hopefully it’s just another consequence of them inhaling half a cake earlier and not something to do with Asriel’s residue inside them. They watch him walk with some hurried steps over to Undyne and Alphys’ house.

With a couple of knocks on the basement window he gesticulates a jug and some glasses with his hands, and enters through the door after it opens up with a robotic greeting. 

“I am going to ask you again, Aofil,” Toriel makes it very clear with a sigh and a subtle change to her eyes. Still soft and motherly, but with a hardened resolve that could pry open any and all half and full lies without a single drop of sweat. “Are you sure about doing this so early?”

Muffet takes a comforting step closer again to Aofil. “There’s always a tomorrow,” she adds while taking their hand in one of hers. “And if we do this tomorrow I can make a batch of magical pastry for you and Frisk to recuperate your magic. I’ll make it with some orange zest to it.”

That does sound absolutely wonderful.

Truth be told though, Aofil would very much want to get this over with. Their first jump into the icy water dark and unknowable. Postponing it would just have them second, third, and fourth guessing over and over in their head, preventing them from getting any sleep tonight. This will be the first step for them to take in and make their arm, soul, and soul mate normality to them, and they owe Muffet that much.

They owe the monsters that much.

They owe Frisk that much.

They owe themselves that much.

“We’re doing this today,” Aofil decides after they’ve quelled their headache with some water brought to them by Asriel. He offers to fill the glass up again, which Aofil also accepts with an eager nod. “As soon as Frisk gets here and as soon as Alphys has finished her gizmo.” With their own determined gaze they challenge Toriel’s resolve, and after a couple of seconds, she allows them to win.

“You and Frisk have the same eyes, Aofil,” she says with a gentle sigh. “I look into them and I feel that I’m filled with hope, and that is true for every single day.” Her mouth halts in a half-opened state as she has to take a second to find the right words to say next. “However, the cold that permeated that hospital room where both Frisk and you slept was...”

Asriel stops his mother with a soft, yet incredibly firm, hand. He refills Aofil’s glass one more time before tapping at the outside of the half-empty glass jug with his claw.

“It was a bit like when I first woke up as Flowey.”

Before Toriel can protest with...anything...anything to get her son away from that dark past of his, he puts up another hand to stop her. “Please, mom.” It’s not a hard palm he shows to his mother, quite the opposite. It’s still soft, yet also calming and reassuring. He wants to show her how much he’s been able to move past Flowey, and although every fiber of her soul screams against it, Toriel nods for him to continue. She takes a step back into her husband’s embrace to give her son some space, and Asgore folds his arms protectively over Toriel, and leans his chin down on her head.

Asriel takes a deep breath to collect himself. “It was a similar cold that greeted me, and I only realized it after I’d sat at that hospital couch in silence. The traffic outside had calmed down, and there was only the occasional whir from the hospital machines and hushed commotion from outside the glass doors. The cold without neither you or Frisk’s aura around even though I saw you two lying there was the same when I woke up Flowey. Cold, and so very afraid.”

Muffet moves Aofil’s arm over her shoulder so that she can cuddle up to the warmth that was gone during those hospital days. She’s not gonna let this story put a chill on her human. Not now, not never. They’ll feel that through their soul now. They’ll feel Muffet stand in the way and protect them.

Against this tale lacking of the love and hope she fell for.

After some water to refresh his throat, Asriel continues. “I was...” He coughs once to dislodge his words as best he can. “I was confused and I didn’t know where I was. I still felt like I was Asriel, but it was slipping away. Evaporating, almost. The True Lab was so loud and it was too bright and it was so cold. Without anything I could remember from the memories I was quickly losing grasp of. It was sterile, and I was becoming that as well. Chara wasn’t there, you two weren’t there,” he laments to his mother and father, who both reach out for him. He motions that it is fine, but they’re hesitant to that. “I remember seeing myself as Asriel in the blurry reflection of the metal around me for a split second before a Golden Flower came into view instead. It moved like I did, and when I finally looked down...”

“no homemade sweater and fuzzy paws to greet you?” Sans blurts out to give the slumping Boss Monster some spirit back.

“Green and yellow, but not in the way I wanted it.” Asriel scoffs while exhaling hard into the passing breeze above him playing with his tuft. It helps, it brings him back up on the Surface. Flowey didn’t have a tuft, only Asriel has.

And only an Asriel that’s moved past Flowey is allowed to enjoy how it feels rustling in the wind.

Oh how much he enjoys it.

“Then I became aware of the cold. Of the lack of aura from inside. It was that sense of echoing hollow that made me incapable of feeling any love or hope, and because of that I became Flowey.” With a quick shake of his hands he removes the dread he dragged off his cheeks by running his palms down on either side of his face. He half-expects to see streaks of black on his hands from his cheeks. “What I’m trying to say here is that I agree with Aofil that they and Frisk should learn this as quickly as possible. I know humans are different from monsters when it comes to magic, and that you two are the last humans on the Surface that would ever fall and become a human Flowey, but the truth is that there are similarities here and now, and the sooner we can get rid of them, the better.”

Asriel foregoes his glass into the grass below him with a dismissive toss. “Sorry, mom,” he apologizes before emptying the rest of the water inside the jug into his mouth. A few heavy clunks later he exhales the last of the foul air inside him, and quells a belch. “And that’s all I wanted to say about that.”

“sounds like you’ve wanted to say it for a long time.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Asriel agrees with a sharpened flair to his nod. He places the jug down on the ground before his hands find their way back into his shirt pockets. With another sigh he looks over to his parents with their hands clutching together for strength. “I’m done talking now. You can hug me now, mom. And you too, dad.”

It sounds like he wants it too.

The two Boss Monster parents embrace their son as if it was the first time in their lives. He relaxes his shoulder as they massage each side of his cheek with their muzzles. It’s a nice scene to watch, and Aofil squeezes in Muffet closer to them. She places two hands on their opposite shoulder, but her thrid one slips off. No more space.

She looks up with a warm smile that they return to her, along with a gentle kiss on her forehead. The rough texture chafe on their lips, but once they remove their touch it begins tickling. Same to Muffet, apparently, as she giggles at the feeling.

Warmth all around.

Family embracing, soul mates kissing, sunset casting its blazing orange rays.

Aofil’s soul is warmed up by it all. Good thing too since they’re about to exercise it. It’ll be like that day when they decided to put on their running shoes for the first time in forever and jog up Mt. Ebott. They’ll be just as tired and sore tomorrow morning, and their house will have monster visitors once again.

Permanent visitors this time around.

“WOWIE! THERE IS JUST AS MUCH HUGGING HERE AS WHAT YOU DID WITH MK, FRISK!”

The natural world opposes vacuum. However, monsters aren’t technically natural, they’re made out of magic. That’s the only explanation Aofil can fathom seeing the composed and serene expression of Asriel cuddled up with his parents on either side of him drain away with such frightening speed and intensity that he somehow looks fearfully pale despite his snow-white coat being more reflective than a polished mirror. His shock reverberates throughout the backyard, but only Aofil picks it up. The monstrous crashing tsunami of dread would shatter the nearby houses had it been physical, but to everyone’s unknowing relief, it isn’t.

Aofil’s splitting grin however, is very much physical.

And is aimed towards the vacuum currently present on Asriel’s stunned face. “Don’t,” he mouths through some extreme effort to move his curled lips. “Don’t. You. Fluffing. Dare!”

With a pair of mischievous eyes more childish than a toddler, Aofil shoots a glance down to Muffet tucked nicely around with their arm. They lay their head onto hers, and swivel their eyes over to the shadows rounding the house corner. “Together,” they mouth back to Asriel, who’s head slumps down with an annoyed moan that has his parents bending over worryingly. He waves them off and assures them that he’s fine, but now even they pick up on the tiredness in his voice.

“Frisk!” Aofil greets happily and boisterous to give the poor Boss Brother some rest. “MK!” They wave to the hood-covered human rounding the corner with their monster friend. 

“And nothing more.”

You keep mouthing that, Asriel. Maybe one day it’ll become true.

Now with the house shielding any probing eyes from the street, Frisk pulls back their hood. A couple of long seconds pass of everyone just observing and taking it in before MK gives an encouraging bump with his tail to wake them up again. “Told you they’d be in awe!” Aofil can’t blame them for being overwhelmed by the many pairs of eyes upon their monster growths that they themselves haven’t come to terms with yet. 

They know the feeling all too well.

Frisk brushes some hair around one of their horns. It’s not yet begun growing naturally around it, so it might become a tick for them for a couple of weeks, if not months. Aofil knows that too. They still have the urge to pull down their sleeve over their fur, but it wouldn’t really do anything now.

Toriel is the first one to walk up and greet Frisk properly. She brushes her child’s cheek with her thumb before kneeling down and embracing them with all of her motherly care. Frisk disappears inside their mothers hugging arms, but no one needs any visible confirmation to know that they are hugging back just as tightly. “They look so wonderful on you, my child.”

“Frisk,” Asgore addresses with his arms surrounding them as well. “My dearest human.” They rest their chin on his muzzle and burrow into his golden beard filled with fatherly love and pride. “How my soul swells with hope seeing you healthy again.”

Through what can only be magic, Asriel finds an opening to squeeze himself through to his human sibling. He joins his parents in embracing their returned human.

It’s been a long time coming for them to be able to do that. To have their human come back from…

No. Shake that thought out. 

Enjoy the moment.

“I am so gonna enjoy teasing you back when you wake up with your pillow stuck to your head, Frisk.”

Asriel’s words are full of longing, but none of it comes through with his voice and emotion. He says it like a brother. A loving brother. A brother that at the same time says it both as a tease and as a reminder that he can’t bear seeing his sibling hurt. That he would do anything for them, both jest, and protect.

It reminds Aofil of their late brother. They have the same manner to their words right now. Trying to deflect the fear and dark thoughts and to keep up appearances. He has to be the bigger brother now. He has to make jokes to show that it’ll just be a faded memory in the future. To show that it is no big deal to him. That Frisk can be safe with him.

That he’ll always be there to be their brother.

Muffet gently moves away a tear forming in the corner of Aofil’s eye. They don’t notice it, but she does. The glistening sun sparkling from it is impossible for her to miss with her five eyes. Even before that she felt it build up inside Aofil’s aura. The nostalgia, made manifest in proxy by the Dreemurrs. She won’t tell them that she did.

Her dearest human doesn’t need that right now.

The reflecting hue off the Dreemurrs’ collective coats turn from a fiery orange to a more late-red one before they loosen their arms around their human. There’s another one they have to show that they’re healthy and alive to, not just their monster family.

And someone they have to see is healthy and alive too.

“Take as much time as you need,” Asgore says to his human child. With the smallest movement of his head towards Aofil, Muffet gives them a peck on their bright cheeks before returning her many arms to herself and taking a step aside from her human soul mate.

Aofil pushes away from the fence with their human arm to meet Frisk walking up them with quivering arms and lips. “It’s good to see you up and walking, Frisk.” Their words halt Frisk as if it were a brick wall, and they stop with a sharp inhale. Aofil knows what’s coming next, and they’re ready for it. They open up their arms for Frisk, inviting them in.

Without thought though, without any hesitation or second guessing, Aofil places their furred hand on top on Frisk’s head. On top of their horns.

No.

Frisk’s embrace falters, and their arms retreat around Aofil’s torso.

No no no no! “I didn’t mean to.”

But it’s too late.

Their arm acted out of instinct.

“I’m...”

To protect Aofil from dying again.

“I killed you!” Frisk shouts into Aofil’s torso, darkening their shirt with tears. They fall down onto their knees, but Aofil follows them all the way, holding them and slowing the descent. “You were dea-”

“I’m alive now, Frisk,” Aofil reminds with a steadfast embrace. “You saved me, Frisk.” Carefully, they lift up the weeping human’s chin. They try their damnedest to keep a steady face, just like Asriel did, but they can’t. “You healed me.” They throws their arms around Frisk as hurriedly as Frisk did around them. “You healed me, Frisk.” Aofil’s hand again pushes down on the top of Frisk’s head, but this time to hold them close. “You healed me!” Closer, yet closer. “Thank you.”

The joint sobs echo throughout the neighborhood. On every wall. On every window: On every tree.

On every monster.

“I promise I’ll never hold your head away from me again,” Aofil coughs out all the way from the depths of their soul. “I won’t remember what happened before you healed me. I will only remember that, Frisk. I promise you that my soul will only remember that. That my mind will only remember that. Believe me, Frisk. Please, believe me.”

Frisk clutches their hands harder on Aofil’s shirt.

“Don’t be afraid of your magic.”

A warm glow begins surging throughout Aofil. Starting from their back, and spreading wherever it can flow. It swells against their hands and feet only to return to their chest, and begin anew. It forces a smile on Aofil. 

“You saved me, Frisk.”

A smile of so much hope.

“Only remember that.”

A smile not reflecting the final stretching rays from the setting sun.

“And teach me how to use my own magic.”

But the green glow surrounding them.


	177. Relaxation to manifestation

“You don’t suppose you can get a mattress or something? Maybe one of those yoga mats? I know you have some stored in the shed and-”

“Ha! Maybe you shouldn’t have put on your nice jeans when you knew you were gonna work up a sweat in your soul, Aofil! You’ll need to learn how to find comfort wherever you sit if you want to master meditation. It’ll do you good, human, being closer to nature like this. Now sit and relax, that’s an order. Frisk’s healed your lumbar like you asked, so you don’t have any excuses.”

Aofil could probably figure out a slew of excuses, but with some coaxing from Muffet tugging encouragingly at their arm with two of her arms, they join the rest of the monsters sitting on the uniformly cut grass. With the setting sun now turning a deep red there would be an ominous sight for anyone stumbling onto the circle of monsters with two humans added into the mix. With the hope and healing from Frisk still in the air like soothing steam it’s more calming than ominous.

Toriel and Asgore sit gently on their knees with their hands resting calmly on their thighs. Behind them is the long shadow of the garden shed silhouetting their red outlines. They sure look like they could turn their world whichever direction they’d want should they want to. Their heads leaning on the other shows that such want is nothing compared to what they have at the moment. Calling them content would be a disservice, almost a mockery. Their shoulders, eyes, muzzles, and their very souls can finally relax now after days of uncertainty and hard work to tell their people that things are under control with Frisk and Aofil. 

And the pride radiating from the two as they take in the horns sprouted from their human even the setting sun is jealous of. It’s almost strange that it’s red rather than green of jealousy. 

Next to them is Asriel, who’s crossed his legs halfheartedly. Could be fullheartedly what he wants his legs to do, but him trying to convince his legs underneath the other is like trying to make a boat out of a rock. He manages with some determination that could only come from the human part of his soul, but even then he’s rocking back and forth like a desk toy. It’ll be fine as long as no one touches him. Or if there’s no breeze hitting him. Or if the planet isn’t turning. Or if the stars are unaligned.

Good thing he’s worked on his core.

MK fairs better, easing himself down onto the grass with his legs crossing like ice crossing over ice. His tail folds into an arc behind him which he leans back onto and settles in as if in a sun chair. He winks encouragingly to Frisk with a bright smile, and luckily doesn’t catch Aofil’s inquisitive look on the angle of the lean and the width of the arc. They never got a chance to use their tail like that, and they flex their recently-healed lumbar as if commanding their prosthetic tail to sulkily bat at the ground.

Papyrus isn’t as much sitting as he is ready to spring into action from a lowered state and posture. He could be up from his sitting in less than an instant, and probably will sooner rather than later since there’s no way whatsoever that everything will go to plan now that the gang’s all here and together. He’s held down by Undyne’s intensive stare from behind him, but it is a fickle prison. No one can confine Papyrus from helping his friends in need, not even his friends!

In stark contrast to his brother laying down flat on his back with his hoodie rolled up as a pillow underneath his neck silently snoring. The intensive shine from the sun finds its way up his nostrils, illuminating the inside of his skull with a hollow and red glow. Hazy, almost. Could just be Aofil seeing red because there’s red’s everywhere from the sunset, to be honest.

Either way it’s a disturbing sight.

Luckily Aofil has the complete opposite of disturbing next to them leaning into their view with all her five closed eyes facing the sun. Her fanged dimples glistens in the direct sunlight, the concave shapes focusing on the tip of her fangs, almost making them blood-red. 

Her reluctance having to sit next to Sans with her knees forward and her heels tucked underneath her seat comes second to her feeling Aofil’s smile through their aura. She leans her lower elbows on her knees, and her middle elbows on her lower hands, and her upper elbows on her middle hands, and finally her head onto her upper palms. “Could you move your head a bit to the side to cover the sun for me?”

Nope. That’s not gonna happen.

If Aofil does that and Muffet opens her eyes slowly to tease the reflection of the sun in her eyes as she looks up through her eyelashes Aofil’s soul is gonna melt into a puddle.

How then are they gonna train magic with it?

That just leaves Aofil and Frisk to find a way to sit comfortable, which they struggle with. They’re discharged and written off as healthy from the hospital, yes, but their limbs haven’t really woken up from the days they’ve spent lying in bed not moving. There’s still some residue from the morphine still running through them, so they have to be a bit more aware and not go out on a limb with their limbs. Should be fine with sitting and meditating, but there will be no crossing legs anytime soon. Best they can do is lean back on their arms for now.

Undyne and Alphys are standing since they’ll be observing. Alphys’ instrument that she made looks kinda like one of those instruments used to measure radiation, albeit painted pink and yellow and being decked out with stickers of Mew Mew characters.

All from season one.

Typical.

“Right!” Undyne slams her closed fist into her open palm. “Here’s the deal, and I’m the bank that’s gonna cash it out!” Her index finger explodes out of her balled fist towards the two humans sitting with their hands as support behind them. “You two, are you ready to get this late-night show on the road to magic land?”

Frisk is, of course, since they’ve already gone ahead and done some magic already.

Aofil’s ready too, since they’re feeling peer pressure both from everyone’s looks and everyone’s auras, even Frisk’s. It’s exactly like how the monsters have described it. Warm, radiating, like a warm hearth during winter with hot cocoa and marshmallows at the ready. It’s not really peer pressure, to be perfectly honest. Aofil really, really wants this to happen, and they’re compelled not only by everyone else, but by themselves too to agree that they’re ready now that all eyes are upon them. 

They nod. “What’s the first step?”

“First step is to relax,” Undyne informs with her finger waggling authoritatively in the air. “Frisk hasn’t had time to since they first discovered their magic, so they’re well overdo for some soul searching by now.” With some long steps she round the circle, stopping behind the two humans’ backs. She slams down her palms onto a shoulder on each, squeezing them tightly as if wringing the last drop out of an unruly towel. “And since we’d rather not that Aofil has their magic manifest because of an incredibly stupid and beyond idiotic reason that almost got the both of you KILLED!” She releases the shoulders, allowing blood to flow once again so that Frisk and Aofil’s cheeks can blush in embarrassment and guilt. “We’re gonna have Aofil’s magic manifest through the less drastic portion of magic.”

Aofil steals a glance away from Frisk to determine how the two should feel about this. Frisk is surprisingly mellow, only nodding quietly and once. They’ve cried theirs over what happened, and now it’s time to learn from it. They made a mistake, and they’re gonna count that as their first lesson. Again, a very drastic lesson, but a lesson nonetheless. It has cost them, it has cost Aofil, and it’s cost their family. Time to pay that off.

I’m ready if you are, Aofil.

They are too. Can’t be a better time and place when surrounded by friends and family. With their fur-covered hand they gently reach for the horn closest to them on Frisk’s head. They lean in to let Aofil touch it, and Aofil does so gingerly with their beige thumb.

It’s sturdy. Healthy. Sharp at the tip. The feeling tugs at Aofil’s lips, and they tap carefully with the backside of their long nail on the horn as they return their hand to themselves.

A slight shift in Undyne’s smile from scolding to understanding informs the humans that she accepts their shared moment as apology enough. “Great!” she exclaims while slamming her hands together. “Now, let’s all relax as hard and intensively as we can! Ngaaaah!”

Her ecstatic energy caffienates worse than coffee, widening the eyes of all around her as she wrings her knuckles together. There’s a shift in the air from serene calm to anticipated excitement.

“Yoooo! Cool!” 

To arriving excitement.

MK gives his best pal Asriel a nudge with his shoulder, surprising him and almost knocking the Boss Monster off balance. “I’ve only relaxed calmly before. Is this what you mean with Undyne’s intensive training, Asriel?” He’s too busy trying to wobble back into some semblance of balance to answer, so MK takes that as a yes. He’d have that panicked glint in his eyes had he meant no. Besides the panicked glint he has at the moment trying to recover his balance, that is. “You know, you’re always saying how her training is the Jerry of-”

And that’s as far as he goes before Asriel covers his mouth hurriedly with his panicked hand. It’s a quick motion, but it’s not quick enough for the speed of sound, and Undyne’s ear-fins perk like sails set free in the wind. She swivels her piercing eye towards the prince, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell of insubordination from the punkest of punks in this moment. It hits Asriel’s head like an angry brick, and it slumps down in defeat. It’ll not hurt now from the impact, but it’ll do later. He knows what’s waiting him. Twice the pushups next time, if he’s lucky. His hand falls off MK’s grinning mouth back down his side like a broken pendulum, crashing into his waist where it rests knowing that it’ll be unusable for almost a week after Undyne’s done with him.

“Don’t think you’re out of the woods either, MK,” Undyne informs with her eye narrowing like a vertical slit, turning sinister with an overwhelming lust for justice. “Because you’re gonna run through it until your legs collapse.”

“Yooo...”

“And then you’ll continue on your tail until it stops working too, brat!”

“Coooooooooool!”

MK’s always wanted to train with Undyne! This is gonna be awesome! He’ll get abs on his tail finally! “We’ll run together, right Az?”

“Oh yeah! You two will!”

Asriel’s wishes his soul would follow with his heavy sigh, fluttering away with the warm wind to never be seen again. He heaves another one as he finds himself in the same position as before. That’s not the worst part though. It’s not what tugs at him and his still-present soul.

Worst part is that he too is feeling a bit excited over it...

“He looks just like you,” Toriel whispers to Asgore while nodding gently towards their son’s slumped-over head. “From when Gerson threatened with shaving your beard, remember?” She drowns her hand in the golden sways of her husband’s beard with her fingers spread out to feel it as much as she can. “Wait, what am I asking, how could you ever forget it, Gory?”

“Silence!” Undyne commands like the leader of the Royal Guard that she is, startling Toriel into embarrassed submission. It doesn’t matter that Undyne is addressing the Queen. When it comes to training the Royal Family the Captain has authority. “We’re gonna relax now!” Undyne continues drilling. She’ll drill until she’ll emerge out on the other side of the planet. Maybe there she can find some monsters worthwhile of relaxing! Because she sure as hell ain’t gonna find it here, apparently.

“And you look just like yourself when Gerson caught us-”

Asgore’s smile turns from nostalgically teasing his wife into a disciplined grimace as the end of a dull spear hits him on the head.

Exactly where Gerson used to hit him back in the days…

And because of that, he straightens his back and posture, stopping just short of saluting.

Frisk and Aofil trade amused glances as it all falls apart for Undyne. They send their sympathies over to her with some shrugs, and she sighs tiredly with the flat of her conjured spear tapping against her forehead. “How can you all not relax when I ask you to?!”

A bony finger is lifted from behind a bony head sleeping on a rolled-up hoodie emerging high into the air.

Undyne immediately slaps the finger down with her spear, causing Sans’ arm to fall over his eyes.  
“Not you!”

“thanks,” he mutters after a yawn.

Another bony finger is lifted from behind a bony spine bending forward emerging high into the air. “IF I MAY?”

“it’s autumn.”

Aofil kicks off Sans’ slipper for that.

Like the adult they are.

“Go ahead,” Undyne grants through gritted teeth. She spins her spear between her fingers as she dissipates it, stopping with her opened hand opened towards Papyrus. “If you have an idea how to solve this mess, be my guest.”

“I’M ALREADY ARE, UNDYNE, BUT THANKS ANYWAY!” Papyrus clears his non-existing throat into his fist before moving it to present his brother. “WE SHOULD BE LIKE SANS!”

The spear returns spinning the other way as Undyne’s brow lowers tiredly. “How am I to be relaxed when I’m associating it with your brother, Papyrus?”

“i’m right here. in the grass. sleeping.”

“If you were relaxing properly you wouldn’t have heard me, would you? You never do when you’re out to lunch, which is all the time!”

“sorry, there was some grass in my ears.” Sans is terribly sorry about that. It was not his intentions at all to stuff his ears with grass while Undyne was speaking. “could you repeat that, please?”

“Push those strands back in, Sans. Perhaps then you’ll fill up that hollow skull of yours for once!”

Sans shrugs. “you’re only wishing you could be as grassly in can-decadence as me.”

Aofil plops off the other slipper as well. “Thank you,” Undyne thanks after flicking the slippers away with her spear to feel better. She gets an extended thumb back from Aofil. It was their pleasure.

“H-h-he actually h-has a p-point, U-Undy.” Alphys takes a step forward to be between Papyrus and Undyne. She motions down to Sans’ smile and the rest of him. “S-Sans k-knows a lot about w-what we’re gonna teach t-today.”

Undyne can’t believe it… Her lizard...betraying her. In her most desperate of hour facing this sack of bones and sloth, Alphys, her lizardly love, her anime amour, her partner in soul, abandons her side to take Sans’ side in this conflict.

This battle.

This war!

“Undyne?”

She can’t soften her eyes before looking over to Frisk who addressed her.

“You’re being a bit dramatic now,” Frisk informs with a patronizing nod. Just barely above condescending. “Two spears is overdoing it. We’re here to relax, remember?”

With a scoff and a smile, Undyne throws the spears into an ‘X’ behind her. “I know, Frisk.” She sits down on the crossing. “I’m relaxed.” With her hands moving slowly and widely behind her head she leans back. “Just relaxed.” She breathes in through her nose, and out her mouth almost in a whistle. “Relaxed as I’ve ever been.”

“glad to see you’re a fast learner of mine.”

Alright, Aofil needs to sort this out themselves, it seems like. With Undyne trying to fold Sans into his own jacket so that she can kick him away like a football, and with Papyrus and Alphys doing their best to stop her wild flailing, maybe Aofil should try and redo that meditation class they did so many years ago. They have a bigger class this time around, which might be enough for their magic to awaken. They felt the auras before with their broken soul, so today should be no problem.

“Was only a matter of time, right?” Frisk asks with a chuckle as Aofil moves to stand up.

“We both knew this was to happen,” Aofil answers with a returning chuckle. “Hopeless, these monsters,” they say a bit louder while moving their eyes around the circle. “Always gotta be so excited and full of spring-”

“still autumn.”

“Always gotta be so excited and full of spring in your steps to help us humans,” Aofil repeats in almost a yell to get through the commotion happening with Undyne. It getting through to Sans as well is merely a bonus. “How Frisk and I could ever relax with all of you around is a mystery. How we could ever thank you for being in our lives is even more a mystery.” They raise their hand before the avalanche of counters come crashing over them from the rapidly opened mouths all around them. All except Asriel, but that’s because he’s too busy raising his eyebrow against his sibling. “It’s gonna be night soon, and while it might be easier to relax at night, I want to get up tomorrow at a reasonable hour, as I’m sure all of you want to as well. It’s a normal day tomorrow, and I want that normal to include Frisk and I knowing magic.”

Aofil sits down again now that they’ve said theirs, closing their eyes as they lean over their knees with their folded arms as a pillow. Around them they hear shuffling. “So, any guesses what I’ll be able to do?”

“That’s what Alphee’s gizmo is for,” answers Undyne through a yawn.

“Y-yeah, I thought it would be a g-good to measure your aura and see what it might l-lean towards,” Alphys adds along with some mechanical tapping. “B-but if you want to t-try yourself f-first I’ll help y-you.” An audible click rings out from her position, and she sits down afterwards judging by the following shuffling of fabric. Undyne joins her, and the two inhale in tandem before exhaling their aura to join in with the others. “I-If I w-were to guess I’d s-say maybe h-healing as Frisk?”

Really? Huh, would make sense. They have similar souls and all that. “Hopefully not though.” They raise their eyebrow towards the human next to them without opening their eye. “Then I’ll have to compete with someone who can bring someone back from the dead.”

“You’ve already done that before though.”

Asriel…

“And my guess would be you conjuring something like Undyne can,” he continues with his confidence returning to his voice.

“Ngahahahaha! That would be awesome! We’ll make the world’s greatest arsenal and spar until we’ve exhausted them all, and also us!”

“So that’s your guess too, Undyne?”

“Nah!” she dismisses with her laugh coming down into a small chuckle. “I want Aofil to have some form of elemental power.”

“Which one?”

“Why only one?”

Good point.

“I BELIEVE THAT BONE MAGIC WOULD SUIT YOU, AOFIL!”

“I’ll make sure to ask you about it if that happens, Pap.”

“sounds like a good idea.”

“And I’ll ask about it to you as well, Sans.”

“sounds like a bad idea.”

“I’ve had worse.”

A gentle cough brings the mood to a respectful halt to hear what Toriel has to say. “Perhaps you’ll become even more inspiring to us, Aofil? Frisk we can already feel radiating more hope than ever before, so if your magic is that you’ll be more focused on your soul, then I can’t imagine how wonderful tomorrow will become.” Her voice almost breaks at the end, she’s filled with so much anticipation. It’s wonderful hearing her so filled with emotion. Childish, almost, in the most happy of ways.

“I hope so too, Toriel. Thank you.”

“If I’m allowed to be a bit greedy,” Asgore prefaces with a bashful chuckle. “If you’re magic has something in relevance with plants and or flowers I’d greatly appreciate your help. You see, there’s this fern I want to-”

Toriel’s elbow is audible despite being shoved into her husband’s soft fur. “I’ll make sure to help you if that’s the case,” Aofil assures the King coughing slightly from the sharp bump. “Perhaps I could get my own garden as splendid as yours if that’s the case.”

“Yoo, um, Aofil?”

“Yes?”

“If your magic is like mine I promise I’ll help you out with it! You know, since you helped me with my magic and all that. I don’t know if me being a monster will help as well to you being a human as vice versa, but I’ll do the best I can! And I’ll be able to do even bester since you helped me!”

Bless that kid. Aofil’s almost drowned in the care and sincerity flowing from MK like a hurricane. They can’t help but be caught up in it. “Of course, MK!” they return just as eagerly. “We’ll do it again, us three. If you can make armor after just one, imagine what you’ll be able to do after another one when I have my own magic!”

Asriel scoffs.

Because he knows the real reason Aofil wants to try and recreate that feeling from before.

To hear that absolutely heart-meltingly cute bleat again.

But who can blame Aofil, really? Who wouldn’t want to hear it again?

“It doesn’t matter to me what magic you’ll get,” comes a whisper from Aofil’s side. Their arm is hugged by three other ones, and a warm head slumps down on their shoulder. “Whatever you get I’ll make sure to be useful in the bakery.”

Aofil locks their fingers with the hand lowest down their arm. Those lovingly rugged fingers. “I’m supposed to relax now, Muffet. I can’t do that with my mouth watering about your buns.”

A chortle explodes out of Frisk, but Aofil pays it no mind. The youth of today, so hopeless. Can’t get their mind out of the gutter. “And what about you, Frisk?” Aofil challenges against the snickering human. “What do you think my magic will be about?”

“No idea,” they force out between heaves of barely-contained laughter. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Is that so?

Oh well then, let’s get started. The mood has calmed down enough now. Aofil’s not sure if it’s enough for them to figure out what their magic is, but there’s only one way to find out. They breathe in through their nose, holding the air in for a couple of seconds before breathing out through their mouth. “I’m ready.”

It begins.

Oh boy, it sure does begin. It’s...a bit like when MK reached out for Asriel and Aofil, but it’s more intense. At the same time it’s more serene, more gently suggesting Aofil to be swept up in the joint aura. Each inhale fills their body with more of this light, almost fluffy sensation. Like standing up too quickly after having sat down for a long time. Hazy, blurry, numbness spreading out from their chest.

Aofil opens their eyes. However, they instantly feel that they’re not opening their real eyes. It’s very much like a dream, very much like it’s all in their head.

Or in their soul, most likely.

They’re themselves though. Not a Boss Monster, be it child or adult. They’re themselves because their soul is theirs fully now. Both parts. Monster and human. They still have their arms to show the duality even in this...realm.

In front of them is a puddle. Aofil bends down to touch it with their finger. It’s warm. Comforting. Like an encouraging hug, but not with arms around. Something else. Syrupy wind? It’s viscous alright, but it’s not asphyxiating. Quite the opposite, really. Aofil feels lighter in it. 

The puddle deepens into a barrel of sorts. Upon closer inspection they recognize what kind of barrel. It’s a rain barrel. 

Aofil can see their face in the reflection of the viscous air inside. For a second it almost looked like they were a Boss Monster. Must be some of Asriel’s residue. It’s back to their human face now before the syrupy wind begins moving out of the barrel like crawling smoke. A stream of this viscous air is moving past Aofil, solidifying and taking shape. 

They can feel the monsters inside of it, as if they’re all dancing together. The rain barrel is now fastened against a wall not unlike their house. Aofil looks through a window to all the monsters sitting in front of a fireplace enjoying tea and eating pastries. Muffet’s waving for Aofil to come inside and join them, but they can’t open the lock on the window. There’s no door either, the wall stretches for as wide as they can see and feel. They take a step back, but they still can’t see any way inside.

The crawling smoke has the wall fading away to reveal a large and smooth lake reflecting a sunset and bulbous landscape nowhere to be found. It’s very similar to MK’s lake that Aofil was in with Asriel. They’re standing at the shore now though, unsure how to get into the water. It’s right there, but Aofil has no clue how to even put their toe inside. The lake’s tranquil, barely even moving when Aofil skips a stone across it. Just bouncing along until it finally stops and disappears underneath the surface.

Wait a second…

The surface?

Or the Surface?

Aofil looks closer at the lake.

It’s lighter than they first thought it would be. Much lighter. Drowning in white that bleeds across their entire vision. They put their arm over their eyes to shield themselves, but it shines through regardless.

The Barrier.

Behind it is that window again with all the monsters. Frisk is there now, arms folded on the windowsill, and cheeks stuffed with pastry. They’re smiling despite of that, with crumbs dripping from their mouth. They’re also waving for Aofil to come inside, but now there’s even more for them to get through. They wave back, but Frisk shakes their head at that.

Why?

Frisk waves again, and Aofil waves back.

Another shake.

They wave for a third time, and again Aofil…

Wait…

Frisk’s arm.

Their left arm.

Aofil’s waving with their right arm. Their human arm.

Frisk nods, and they beckon for Aofil.

They reach for the Barrier with their left arm. It feels wet, different from the viscous air they felt with their right arm. It passes through the Barrier, but stops at their shoulder. Still can’t reach the window though.

Aofil’s back at the shore of the Surface lake. It’s still a beautiful sunset, but the reflection has begun to distort a bit. There’s something disturbing it. Not enough to make any waves, but small ripples begin reaching for them at the shoreline. Aofil still has no idea how to touch the water, however with the ripples they might not have to.

Maybe they can have the ripples come to them instead. They have plenty of stones lying on the shore to throw into the lake, so it might be worth a shot.

Or a throw, in this case.

With each splash from the stones the ripples deepen, but they’re still a far ways away from Aofil’s feet. They’re only throwing with their right hand though, so perhaps if they throw one stone with their left hand it would…

Oh…

Yeah, that did the trick.

The reflection of the sunset is sucked down where their monster-thrown stone lands in the water, warping the light for a second before it sprouts back up like a pillar of orange. It slams back down, forcing out a large wave around it. The Surface and the sun reaches over Aofil as the wave breaks against the shoreline, and crashes down on them as they cower.

“About time you were the one entering through the window! Ngahaha!”

Aofil shakes the water off of them, but with the drops hanging from their brow over their eyes it’s more like a melted painting was poured over them. They wipe off the sunset drops off their brow and take the blue hand offered through the now opened window.

It falls right through without connecting.

“Come on now,” Undyne teases. “Use your left hand. Fluffbun, haven’t you understood anything? It literally came crashing down on you just a moment ago.”

“To be honest,” Aofil retorts after a smack of their lips. They take Undyne’s hand with their left. “I kinda don’t.”

“Oh well.” Undyne drags Aofil in through the window after they’ve planted a foot on the wall for support. “Why don’t we try and figure it out over some tea?”

“Please.”

They sit down in the free chair, and not a moment passes by before Muffet’s there with some pastries and tea for them. “First time I’ve baked only with my soul, but it should be good.”

That Aofil has zero doubts about.

“So we’re inside my soul?” Aofil asks before taking a large bite of the pastry. They lean forward a bit since their lumbar seems to be connecting strangely with their seat. “Or something?”

“It’s much more elaborate than anything we can conjure up,” Asriel answers while folding his arms and looking around. “You’ve seen what monsters can do when we were with MK, Aofil.”

Speaking of that. “I was at a lake just before this. Wasn’t quite like yours, MK,” Aofil explains while pointing with their half-eaten pastry at MK leaning his chin onto the backrest of a wooden chair similar to those Aofil has in their kitchen. Actually, this room looks like their own living room with less detail. “Had a bit more...um...texture to it? More detail.”

“Like Asriel said,” Asgore chimes in while leaning forward. Aofil does so too as again the chair they’re sitting in is pushing against their lower back. “Your monster soul has more power to utilize with it being connected to your human part. More memories to utilize and paint the picture, so to speak.”

“I’m kinda curious to how mine would look,” comes a half-embarrassed confession from Frisk while they rub the tip of one of their horns. “Was it scary or did it feel strange before you could get inside?”

“Mostly confusing.”

“W-w-well, y-you w-were t-trying to find y-your m-magic b-by monster m-means, so it’s n-not s-strange t-that it w-was c-confusing. H-humans used m-magic d-differently before the B-Barrier.”

“That’s another story though,” says Toriel to steer the tangent back before it becomes a road of itself. “For now we have that Aofil’s figured out their magic, and for that we are all very proud.” She raises her cup. “To you, Aofil.”

“CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MAGIC!”

“Congratulations!” the room follows, but not Aofil. They don’t feel any different, and they haven’t made anything. They’re on their edge of their seat about it, yes, literally too, or still figuratively since they’re inside their soul or…

“I can see that you’re still confused about this.” Toriel puts down her cup on the nearby table. “So perhaps we should end the meditation now. Not even us monsters should have our souls exposed and connected for this long, even if it is with friends and family, so we’ll continue on later, sounds good?”

The room agrees.

But not Aofil.

“shame,” Sans laments in his own way. “would be fun to return to here later, but with you having your magic figured out now i doubt we’ll be able to enjoy you drowning in your own reflective pond and pondering.”

What?

“Y-you h-have your m-magic as an outl-let now, Aof-fil,” Alphys explains while standing up from her chair to a very furrowed Aofil. “T-this w-was all just to help you f-figure it out.”

They’re all talking to Aofil like it’s obvious! Standing up and walking to the door which leads to nothing! Even Frisk! “But what is it?” Aofil pleads with their arms thrown out to their sides. “What’s my magic?”

“Told ya’ you shouldn’t have worn your nice jeans, Aofil! Ngahahaha!”

And what does she mean by that? Does Aofil have a grass spot or something?

No, they have not.

“Oh...”

It’s their magic.


	178. Party favors

“Hey, Aofil! Over here!”

Gotta be a bit more specific than that, whoever it is calling out for them. There’s like a sea of monsters present at the moment bobbing up and down from half a house’s height to only coming up to Aofil’s knee. It’s flowing and ebbing across the grass of the Monster City Middle Park.

“Here! I’m here!”

Again Aofil can’t spot who it is calling out for them. The many colorful lights hung between the trees gives off a lot of bleeding colors that makes it hard to pick out any specific monster in the sea. One second it’s green then the second second the monster’s blue as it takes a step to the side.

“Over! Here!”

The voice breaks amid the music playing. Had Aofil not known better they might’ve believed it was part of the song, but with the low-key ghost jazz playing live...dead...on the stage not having any lyrics since they started the odds are against that.

“Aofil!”

They stretch up their hand to show where they are, waving it as high as they can. It silences the calling, but still Aofil can’t see who it was that shouted their name. They don’t see anyone moving closer to them either. No small dingy moving towards them on the sea where thar be, and made of, monsters. While blowing their lips they let their arm fall back down. Their exasperated raspberry blows one last falsetto as they see their beige fur streak past them.

Hm…

Maybe they should’ve raised their right arm instead of their monster arm. They’ve been left-handed these last couple of days due to their magic lessons, so it was just reflex that they raised their left arm. Did they inadvertently cause the shouter to think they got the wrong person and turn away?

This won’t do. Aofil won’t be able to think about the party and enjoy themselves with this thought rattling inside their head. They have to find this shouter now. That’s their mission. Unfortunately, Aofil can’t see over the waves of differently shaped and colored heads to deduce who it might’ve been. They can’t locate through hearing since the murmur around them makes it neigh impossible. Who should they call for, even? ‘Hey, you who shouted for me! Where are you!?’ Nah, they’re trying to get rid of some of this embarrassment, not add to it. 

They need some help with this situation.

And they see just the right monster for that task. Problem is that they’ll be reiterating the issue of getting someone’s attention should they shout for him, and Aofil doesn’t take kindly to any recursion. “Wait here for a bit, Muffet,” they ask of the spider monster leaning on the same railing as they do with her eyes closed to let the warm evening breeze caress her content face and light up her dark hair. She pushes back down the collar on her jeans jacket as Aofil flips it up when they return their arm from behind her neck.

“You found the one shouting for you?” she asks while lifting herself up on the railing and peering widely with her many eyes. Her fangs elongate the dimples on her chin into temporary trenches as she angles her chin side to side thoughtfully. “I can’t see them. Whoever they are.”

“Neither can I,” Aofil adds as they look for somewhere to put away their drink. Muffet offers her hands so kindly, and Aofil thanks her with a peck on her cheek. “I’ll be back and we’ll go together to see who it was. I’ll just have to ask Asriel if he can lend me his length a bit.”

“Isn’t he busy?” asks Muffet after brushing some hair behind her ear to look to her side. “He looks very busy,” she quirks with her eyebrows heightened. “If you do get his attention could you also ask him about his pastry order? Whether he wants spiders or not. He didn’t specify last time since he folded the order into a paper plane and threw it into the café before Muffin could greet him.”

Aofil halts in their instigating step as if janked back by their collar. “Pastry order?” their curiosity forces their tongue to speak. Their eyes shift over to the massive pillar standing in the middle of the park. “Isn’t your cake enough?”

It’s taller than any of the building around, reaching like a tower in the middle of the park and stretching almost as tall as Mettaton’s restaurant complex. Aofil was understandably concerned about the integrity and safety since everyone can just walk up to it and take a slice at any time they want. Self-serving is fine, but what would it be called when the entire tower comes crashing down due to its bottom having been eaten up?

“No-worries-serving,” Toriel assured with a slight chuckle at her own pun. “There’s gravity magic on it, so there’s no worry to it. I’m...also pretty sure that Muffet would have reservations to the risk of it falling over. She did spend quite some time baking it.”

Once the bottom has been finished the ghost band have been instructed to ease off with their song and begin drumming up some hype as the magic disengage for a second and the cake falls down on its new bottom. A spectacle and a reminder of sorts. There won’t be a high risk of leftovers if everyone wants to see it come ploofing down again and again.

Damn amazing with the entire park coming together in building anticipation until it exploded into a roaring cheer as the cake came crashing down with a spongy poof for the first time. Aofil made sure to squeeze Muffet closer to them as the cheering echoed throughout the vast sea. The angry huff of her baking being treated this roughly was like a sigh in a tornado, with the pride flooding her eyes hearing so many monster cheer and celebrate her work being too much for her to hold in.

Aofil kissed her in that moment, and she clung to them with all her arms pushing all of their air out of them. After it she rested her quivering chin on their shoulder, sobbing with so much joy and pride that Aofil had to think about Mettaton’s contracts to mask her aura so it wouldn’t turn any heads. It was her moment, not anyone else’s.

Never again will their timing be any more perfect. Never again will the pieces come together without the slightest notion of friction. They’ve peaked. They’ve peaked higher than Mt. Ebott, even counting in the depths of the Underground. Muffet is still emitting such pride and happiness hours after the first layer fell down, and with each one that’s fallen she’s cheered louder and louder alongside her human. With each soft rumble from the new layer falling down she’s jumped up on the waves rippling out from the impact into Aofil’s arms, and pushed her lips against theirs with her arms embracing with such delight and confidence.

It might be Frisk’s birthday party, but it is Aofil that’s been given the most splendid of gifts. They’ve certainly gotten some dimples of their own on their chin after Muffet pushing her lips so hard against Aofil’s. They’re almost hoping that it is obvious so that everyone can know how happy Muffet is. How much her soul is shining.

And how much Aofil’s soul is shining as well having locked lips with Muffet for what feels like hours today.

“The Prince has made an order of pastries for someone else,” Muffet reveals with a coy wink and her tongue peeking out between her fangs. “Someone special in his life.”

Aofil looks over to Asriel surrounded by monsters all enamored by his smooth demeanor and slicked-back tuft of hair. The purple robe he’s wearing suits him well. It’s flowing around his arms, but as soon as he lifts his hand and his arm begins to flex you can see the outline clearly. The Deltarune on his chest is concave due to his chest, slightly obscured at the top by his chest-fur that he must’ve puffed up with a brush. It’s good to see him finally being comfortable enough with wearing it, because it sure does look to be comfortable. 

His body is that of a prince, and a noble one to boot. Well-honed and tall. Each subtle movement carrying with it a weight of massive importance, and he’s swinging that weight around with confidence and grandiose posture like it’s nothing to him.

The lips he effortlessly tenses into a smile while he talks and laughs with the monsters around him suits him even more than his robe does. Aofil’s still not completely used to see him smile, but they’re warming up to it. How could they not? It’s warmer than the lava in Hotland and by golly doesn’t he shy away from sharing it.

It’s a confident head on a prince’s shoulders. It’s not the Asriel Aofil’s used to, but it’s the Asriel they’ll have to get used to. They don’t have any objections to that. If Aofil’s prize for all they’ve gone through is a spider monster to love, then Asriel’s prize is being the prince he was always meant to be. Had Aofil not handed their drink to Muffet they’d cheered for him, but there’s sure to be plenty of other reasons for that to come. Asriel will be able to whip up an impressive speech on the spot and stun everyone, there’s no doubt about that.

Aofil’s heard him talk in passing only today, but what they’ve heard they’ve almost stopped dead in their tracks to continue listening. He’s inherited his dad’s silver tongue and his mom’s authoritative voice veiled by warmth and wisdom with an added splash of his own new-found confidence and disarming charm. Mt. Ebott being thrown into a lake would make a lesser splash. Disarming in the sense that you lose control of whatever you were doing with your arms and folding them underneath your chin while you eagerly listen to whatever he says wide-eyed.

He could snap his finger in a direction, tug an illustrious smile on his lips, and haphazardly suggest everyone to walk for a while, and everyone would round the world five times before realizing something was amiss. It’s a good thing Aofil’s already under the spell of another monster otherwise they might decide to join the masses walking on the whim of Asriel’s radiating charisma shining brighter than the midday sun. The only reason they wouldn’t is that they’d be far away from their beloved Muffet if they trekked across the globe.

But then again, perhaps Aofil could find some new recipes from all the different cultures they’d cross? Bring home some spices and…

Wow, they almost began rationalizing away Muffet for Asriel!

Maybe Aofil should bring him down a peg or two before he gets any ideas about world domination very easily created by his charisma. Not that Aofil’s feeling a bit jealous or something.

That would just make them petty confronting Asriel about them catching themselves pushing away their love for their spider and prioritize a prince above their soul mate.

And Aofil’s not petty.

They’re just…

...

Not...petty.

...

“I’ll be back in a second or two,” they again inform Muffet before heading off towards Asriel and his crowd with hurried steps fueled by the volatile fumes of their own frivolousness.

The crowded circle of monsters around Asriel is denser than rock, and Aofil can’t even get an arm inside the mass, be it their monster or their human arm. They’ll have to look a bit closer to find an opening, it seems. 

“You wouldn’t think that the most fun a human invention could be for a monster would be a wonky supermarket cart across an uneven parking lot, but you’d be surprised, and perhaps even a bit intrigued,” flies over the crowd on wings of playful half-seriousness. “Don’t think I’ll fit in one like I am now, unless they do a clearance on princes next week.”

Hearty chuckles round the crowded circle, some light, some deep. All joyous and shared though. All except Aofil. They’ve heard Asriel’s story before. They were the one that told him that before about the Fun Gang of some underclassmen of his. Aofil could swear they saw that one greenly dressed monster. Ralsei, or something. Fur as black as Asriel’s is white. Aofil’s curious whether or not it’ll turn gray if they shake hands. Shouldn’t be too difficult looking for him since he’s always in the company of that large, purple monster that loves to steal chalk.

Probably at the cake, Aofil would guess, but they don’t have time to go check right now. Maybe they’ll do later.

“You know what’s the funniest thing though?” Asriel asks rhetorically while swirling his plastic cup in his hand. He leans back on the backside of the bench behind him with one knee tucked up towards him. “Now my human sibling and human teacher know more magic than me.” He swigs the last of his drink before balancing the cup on one finger for a second of two. “That’s who you’ll all be having as a prince.” With a flip of his balancing finger the cup makes a somersault into a nearby trashcan dangerously close to overflowing. “A monster that even a human can out-magic.”

A dip in the collective aura has a chill running up Aofil’s spine. They’re not gonna interfere just yet since the chill is cut off halfway up their back. They push back against the notion that Asriel’s feeling that. They refuse to believe that. They’re confident enough in it that they won’t even blame the feeling on his residue still swirling around in their system, even if it’s miniscule.

Asriel’s been going forward with his own magic these last days with the help of Frisk. His confidence isn’t straight out of the blue, it’s out of his soul!

“So imagine how great their magic must be if I can do this!”

Crackling white lightning shoots out from Asriel’s clapped paws, pushing back the loose fabric of his robe to show his impressive arms and chiseled torso. His ears flap behind him like proud flags raised in honor from the dramatic wind caused by his crackling magic. It’s impressive to look at, but it’s all because of his unstable magic. He’s struggling, but he’s determined. He pushes his hands together harder before they slowly begin to slide from another on sharpened white magic. The shape of two wicked twin blades hover before his grimacing head, slowly becoming whole from inside Asriel’s palms moving in a gentle downwards arc.

With an exhale that travels throughout his entire body he clutches his hands, summoning two handles to grip his magical swords with. He spins one so that its blade points down while the other stays up, and with a determined roar he throws the curved swords together edge to edge. He drags the shimmering blade across the other with an ambitious grin. Rainbow sparks spray from where sharpened magic grind against sharpened magic, landing in the grass with electrical sizzles. There’s almost a melodic chime to it all. 

As the blades’ tips finally touch, Asriel pulls them apart with a final thrust, leaving the entire crowd stunned among his heavy breathing and the fading treble of his display. He sheaths his swords on either side of his robe underneath his leather belt, and sits back down on the bench’s backrest. “It took humans to finally teach me how to use my magic, and I swear to you all they will do more good to you than I can ever do. It’s because of them that my magic can finally shine, and I promise you that Frisk and Aofil will bring us more hope than we can ever imagine!”

Aofil can understand that Asriel would put Frisk upon this high a pedestal since it’s their birthday and all, but Aofil can’t really go up and ask him about helping them now, can they? Asriel said that Aofil’s magic is much more impressive than his, so everyone’s bound to ask them to show theirs. They’re all cheering now, Aofil doesn’t have the heart to ruin the mood.

It’ll be like promising the sun only to get a dying match instead since Aofil can barely make their tail visible to the naked eye. It’s not even a tail that they’re able to borderline conjure, more like a magical hernia. They’ll get it going eventually, but not now.

Guess Aofil needs to find someone else to help them. They leave Asriel to his gathering crowd wanting to see him try out his sword on various types of catered fruit.

“Yooo, did you see Azzy?”

“Hey, MK,” Aofil greets back to the lizard sneaking up to them from the shore of the monster sea.  
“Yeah, I saw him. Good to see him confident like this.”

“I know, right!” MK answers while bouncing on his toes excitingly. “And I didn’t even do a lot for him. He almost did it entirely on his own!”

Aofil follows a bead of sweat running down MK’s cheek with their eyes. They tug a smile. “Is that so?”

“Since you and him helped with my magic before I thought I’d give a bit back to him with Frisk. They went away the other way so that we wouldn’t get caught, and I also heard them mention something about the slime in our class taking their place for a minute so they had to get back to that as well.” MK licks his lips and smacks them a couple of times before nodding behind him. “So yeah, now Asriel’s shown everyone that he can do really cool magic too! I need to get myself some more punch before my lips start chafing.”

“I’ll see you when I meet you again then.” Aofil waves the excited monster goodbye and he quickly disappears into the sea again, weaving through the different shapes and colors like a salmon up a river.

“I’ll catch you later, Aof!”

He’s a good friend, MK. Asriel’s lucky to have him. Frisk too, the extent of luck for them being up in the air for now. Will they be as lucky as Aofil is with Muffet, or will it stay as friends? Judging by Asriel not freezing from the boost given to him by Frisk and MK combining their magic it’s either leaning on MK and Frisk being just friends, or Asriel being comfortable enough with his best friend falling in love with his sibling.

Getting over and embracing being a prince despite being a prior martyr due to the prince status is one thing, but accepting that your best friend is dating your sibling?

Now that’s something even humans struggle with.

So, where to now then? Who else could help? Aofil continues their search deeper into the sea. They’re not afraid of drowning in it, so they dive right in. The fight against the flow of monsters pouring the other way is strong though, and Aofil decides that it might be better if they let it pass towards Asriel that it’s pulling towards. They’re not afraid of drowning, but it doesn’t mean that they’re welcoming of it. They’d rather not if they have a choice in the matter.

“Did you manage to talk to him?” asks Muffet as Aofil plops out from between a slime monster and a wolf. They brush off the sticky slime and the black strands of fur from the wolf making a pattern similar to a picnic blanket on their monster arm. “About his order?” 

“Couldn’t get to him,” Aofil answers while they lean on the railing again to watch the flood of the monster sea streak past them. Asriel’s at risk of getting overwhelmed, but if that’s the case he has a pair of swords to impose some personal space. “Had some bad timing and caught him being a prince.”

Muffet hands back Aofil’s half-empty cup of punch. “I see.” She leans back as well, letting the shoulder of her jacket fall off and hang at her arm’s bend. Aofil’s heart almost jumps out of their throat to get a better look at the wondrous way her purple skin shifts in the colored bulbs hanging above her, but Aofil swallows it before it can leave their body and make a right mess of it all. They follow it with some punch to cool themselves off.

It does little to help.

Muffet’s giggles coyly at their aura, and pulls her jeans jacket a bit further down so that her middle right arm is also visible. “It’s hot today, isn’t it?”

You don’t say.

“Royal Guard business! Let me through!”

Oh this outta be good.

“I am the Captain of the Royal Guard and I demand passage! Let me through, you insubordinate punks!”

“You need a hand there, Captain?” Aofil offers to a flailing Undyne trying to fight the flood of monsters going the other way. She’s not as lucky as Aofil was it seems, as she’s dragged along despite her swearing. She’s bubbling with the temptation of conjuring up a spear to make her own exit, but since all the monsters are on their way to check out Asriel’s magic, her conjuring up a spear would only attract more towards her, and cause her even more density to fight through.

“Give me your tail, Aofil!” she shouts back between the exciting crackles of a fire monster and the ears of a large dog.

“Still not physical enough,” they shout back. “And you knew that from last time!”

“A good friend of yours is being swept away against her will, human!” Undyne shoots a glare between a pair of green horns worn by a striped buck. “You need your magic to help them! Dig deep inside and find your determination to help me!” The glare is interrupted by a pair of Whimsum wings fluttering to close to her hair, getting stuck, and dragging her further into the sea. “You’re the only one who can save me, Aofil!”

Nope, nothing. Not even a red, magical stump from Aofil’s magic. What that says about them and their friendship to Undyne might be up for debate after this. Either that or Undyne’s acting. One or the other. After an eyebrow raised towards Muffet to get her opinion on the situation, and getting five exasperated eye-rolls back as an answer, Aofil’s more keen on the later rather than the former.

“Still nothing,” they shout back to Undyne digging her way back towards the edge of the monster flood with her hair all messed up. The Whimsum is nowhere to be found, so it’s safe to assume it’s more messed up. “So that means you can get out of this situation yourself, Undyne.”

“Ngaaaah...” she sighs through her loose lips. With a wide swipe of her arm she clears a path for herself and steps out of the flow like it wasn’t even there. “Sorry for trying to help you with your magic, Aof,” she apologizes in a way that has Aofil suspecting that she doesn’t actually mean it. The way she shoots out her hip with her hand resting on it and fixing her hair with her other suggests that it wasn’t a big deal to begin with. After her hair’s back in order she clasps the other side of her hip too and leans in with a sinister grin towards Aofil. “Would’ve been another tune from you had it been Muffet though, right?”

The sound of five angry brows furrowing five hardened eyes almost drowns out the smooth jazz from the stage across the park. Undyne stands stalwart against the quintuple peering pierces though, and throws up her back with a hearty guffaw. “Oh I can feel that stinging me right through my soul!” She angles her grin to the side, and meets Muffet’s hardened eyes through the red strands of her hair that she just fixed. Her black pupil narrows into a slit, making her eye more yellow than Frisk’s skin. “Maybe I should throw in Aofil instead and awaken something in you? See how much your spider strudel means to you? We’re gonna reach new levels for every monster at this party when today’s over! Ngaaaaaah!”

Before the purple shine on Muffet reaches its zenith, giving Undyne a reason to finally spring into action her flexed wrist just waiting to conjure up a spear, Aofil puts their human hand on Undyne’s shoulder. They hold their raised eyebrow against her. “You’re drunk, Undyne,” they inform as if catching a child doing something that doesn’t make them angry, but disappointed.

“Ngahahahaha! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The cyan glow in her hand fades away as she spins on her heel and throws her open palm towards Asriel brandishing his swords in the middle of the increasingly crowded circle around him. “Nah, I’m just absolutely ecstatic that he’s finally breached through his own barrier.” Her fingers bend outwards as her absolutely thrilled demeanor breach through her nails and into her surrounding aura shimmering with pride and hope. It almost distorts her like heat, and her grin bends and contorts inside it. “Look at him! My life’s work! A body rivaling that of a well-trained human, and now with magic rivaling his father! The monsters’ hopes and dreams embodied in a package hotter than Grillby hearing another of Sans’ flimsy excuses about his tab!”

“Took MK and Frisk to help him,” Aofil informs with their furred thumb thrown Asriel’s way. “Kinda like how him and I helped MK with his armor last week.”

“But he’s broken through now! He’s done the difficult part,” says Undyne with an energetic clap of her hands. “I was even about to suggest you and Frisk helping him through MK, but it seems he figured that out all on his own. He could get any monster he’d ever want with those conjured swords of his. Even Gerson would be hard-pressed to find any flaw in those once Az gets them a bit more stable.”

Undyne turns back to Muffet who’s now also staring at the prince’s magical display. “Admit it, spider. I can see it in your many eyes!” She pushes off the other jacket shoulder off of Muffet’s with a flick of her finger. “His magic, his body, how much of a monster he is! He’ll be our King one day formally, but even now he’s one in his soul. He’ll- Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!”

In lieu of a spray bottle to get Undyne away from Muffet, Aofil resorts to pinching her blue neck and coaxing her away. “Don’t go projecting that you want to smooch the prince onto my spider bun, please,” Aofil asks friendly, but with an unfriendly pinch to emphasize. “You have Alphee, remember?”

With a mumbling huff, Undyne massages the back of her neck where Aofil’s monster nails dented her hard scales. “She’s already there in the circle if you have to know.”

Is she?

Aofil checks.

Yes, yes she is. Standing with her head poking through the dense mass of monster with her tail waggling.

…

“Alphys’ tail is waggling…”

Aofil regrets seeing that. Saying it even more.

Not because they just saw Alphys waggle her tail, but that’s still something they’ll have to digest for a while.

But because if she’s waggling her tail Aofil might in the future, and they’re not sure how to feel about that.

Muffet is though, with that mischievous and alluring smile of hers enhanced by her eyes starting invitingly at the base and arcing up with intensity until the top one suggesting all kinds of hints more varied than the range of colors Asriel’s magical rainbow glistens for his audience.

And on top of that she also lets her jacket fall a bit more down her arms.

Aofil’s not gonna get out of this spider’s web anytime soon. She won’t allow it. Not with them soon being able to conjure another limb to rock the web even more and reinforce to her that they’re stuck.

It’s a miracle that Undyne hasn’t noticed yet. Too busy cheering for Asriel with all her soul. Muffet takes the opportunity to slip two of her arms underneath Aofil’s fur, and chirping at the pleasant feeling.

“It’s just like anime!” Undyne finally explodes with glee. “It’s real! It’s real and it’s right here before me! It’s just like the show we were watching, Aofil!”

“The one with the colors and the screaming?”

“Yes!”

“So anyone of the shows you’ve forced me to watch?”

“Ha! Forced?”

“Forced,” Aofil repeats through clenched teeth. “And now I understand why you’re so happy about it.”

Undyne balls a fist and throws it lightly at Aofil’s shoulder. Not light enough for Muffet not to notice and deepen her fangs’ dimples, but light enough that it doesn’t illicit a more magical response. “Never confuse my pride over someone improving with anything but my most wholesouled respect and happiness, Aof.” She flashes a smile. “You’ve given me pride too, you adult punk, if that’s what it takes to get you to believe it. I won’t let you stop until your tail can hug the world though, have no doubt about that either, human!”

No doubt at all from Aofil. They’ve overcome their feelings about Muffet, so not even Mt. Ebott standing tall in the distance poses a challenge for them now. 

They won’t say that to Undyne lest she gets any ideas how to raise Ebott onto the moon and ask Aofil to climb it. Have them raise themselves up to it by their tail or something. Frisk healing them as they suffer the radiation and vacuum of outer space.

So yeah, better to keep the ‘ol lips sealed about that.

“Nope! I can’t wait any longer!”

The crowd goes silent as Undyne’s voice ring out across the entire park. With a mighty inhale she throws her arms across above her. Her cupped hands begin glowing with a bright cyan color, “Show me ,prince!” that erupt into two large spears clenched hard inside her hands. “Show me what your magical butter-knives can do!”

“You’re gonna attack the prince with a pair of blue toothpicks?” Aofil wonders out loud to get the crowd going. The ghost band seems to catch the mood too as the smooth jazz intensifies into agitated jazz. “You must be crazy thinking that would work!”

Undyne’s splitting grin meets Aofil’s knowing smile, and she nods a thanks to them before bursting up towards the hill where the crowd’s begun dispersing, he two spears dragging glowing tracks behind her as she runs.

“And there’s the sudden dramatic fight that’s also a staple of her many animes,” Aofil explains to Muffet with a sigh. “Can you believe how much she’s held me hostage and forced me to watch with her and Alphys?”

Muffet quirks a couple of retorting eyebrows back at her human, who begins sweating under the pressure. With a courteous swipe she steals Aofil’s empty cup from them. “How about I refill you so that you don’t get dehydrated?” she chuckles. As she turns around Aofil opens their mouth to defend themselves, but a purple finger gently closing their lips silences them. “I still love you despite that,” Muffet informs from underneath her eyelashes and through the veil of her darkly silken hair, “human.”

She disappears into the stopped flood watching the spectacular battle between Prince and Captain raging with white magical streaks clashing into cyan magical thrusts. Aofil puts their elbow on the railing behind them and breathes out. “Human after all.”

“Human?”

That voice! It’s the same one that called for them! Aofil turns around.

The thud of a filled plastic cup landing onto grass melds into the symphony of battle and the jazz.

“A-Aofil?” the voice asks again with his jaw on the ground next to his spilled drink. “There you are!”

“Tylior?” Aofil asks back, their jaw joining their friend’s on the soft ground.

The raging battle might as well be in another country locked inside a bunker with no directions to it whatsoever for as much as any of the humans pay any attention to it at the moment. Not even Muffet returning with two cups refilled with punch is enough to break the stare, but that doesn’t matter to her.

She’ll just fetch another one.

“Tylior?” she hears from behind her as she rejoins the stunned sea. A large, yellow bird tugs at her human’s collar, but with no response.

Two more cups then, it seems.

But the last one won’t be filled fully.

For Muffet recognizes that yellow bird. She knows those wings too well. The way they broaden with anxiety now is the same way they broadened in anger before.

When Muffet first met Sevoltne.

“You’re not gonna threaten to take away my human as you did my pet,” she mumbles under her breath as she scoops the punch from the large bowl with an inflatable Mettaton floating in the middle. “Because then you’ll have your own health to worry about.” 

The last cup only gets half-filled with punch.

“Miss. Health Inspector Monster.”


	179. The human condition

“Monsters...”

“Yeah...”

The two human friends drink in unison with eyes peering over the plastic lips of their respective cups at their soul mates walking towards the stage with steps so heavy the park is rocked harder than the continuing battle between the Prince and the Captain from atop the small hill. Crackling lightning shoots between frowning yellow beak and curled purple mouth, electrifying the air between Muffet and Sevoltne, with a hint of sharp ozone left behind in their trail.

An unlucky ladybug accidentally backs into the lightning with her attention busy being embarrassed and with a hand behind her head. She stumbles after the angrily materialized stare between Muffet and Sevoltne sweeps by her, and she’s caught by a fox monster and a turtle as she begins to fall over. The cat monster whom the ladybug backed away from doesn’t have enough hands to scratch his temple as to what just happened.

“I mean...” says Tylior into his cup. His sigh echoes inside it, escaping as a fine mist that coats his nose, making it shine from the colored lamps above. “Here I thought that the two would begin throwing magic at the other with the way they hissed and glared. I’ve never seen Sevoltne that pissed off.” He punctuates as if accusing someone, but he’s not sure against who.

Aofil has their guesses though. “Yeah,” they still agree from within their cup. They’ve seen Muffet this pissed off before, that they have. But the animosity has always been sorta...subdued. Well, less intense is probably the better way of describing it. There’s always been a reason for why she’s shifted her fangs from cute to cruel. Be it Sans putting Muffin in the trash, Undyne yapping on a bit too loudly about...anything, or a customer asking for a tab. 

Sans is included there too.

This against Sevoltne though? It’s from the deepest crevices of her soul. A primal urge that flooded her aura like a bursting dam, making Aofil reel back with eyebrows shooting over the moon.

And again with the…

“Dancing?” Aofil feels the need to repeat out loud. They get an agreeing nod from Tylior which turns into a disbelieving shake directly after. “They’re gonna settle this with dancing? Why?”

“I’ve never seen Sevoltne dance.”

“Me neither with Muffet.”

There’s got to be a reason for this. Why and how would Muffet and Sevoltne ever get it into their heads that anything would be settled by dancing? Who would tell them that? Who would…

Oh…

He would.

He who just threw the stage curtains wide opened as if exploding. He who just clapped his hands, causing the rows of hanging colored lights to shine up along the reverberation across the entire park. The sound of hundreds, if not thousands of differently shaped and textured necks turning at the same time is strange. The entire audible spectrum from incredibly soft to incredibly hard all at the same time. 

“Darlings!”

Mettaton.

“Mettaton?” is exhaled from Tylior’s stunned expression and tugging mouth. “He’s here?” His jaw is almost as low in surprise as it was when he first laid eyes on Aofil a couple of minutes ago.

Had it been just as low the two would’ve needed to have a long and serious talk.

“Looks like it,” Aofil comments without emotion making sure to look away when Mettaton’s peering eyes survey the sea of monsters before him. They return their eyes towards him when there’s no risk of the two making eye contact. “I don’t approve of him turning off the ghost jazz like that, to be honest. I liked the groove of it.”

Tylior can’t believe it. “It’s Mettaton!” he yells through his whisper, showering Aofil’s face with a light spray of punch. “Sorry,” he apologizes while awkwardly trying to catch some drops pouring out his lips. Aofil instinctively lifts up their left arm to dry themselves off, but they halt themselves in the nick of time. If it dries on their fur it’ll be sticky and horrible until they can rinse it off, so its better to dry off with their skin instead.

Tylior has yet to say something about their arm being completely covered in fur, now that Aofil comes to think about it. They wonder when he’ll mention it.

He has to, right?

“Are you ready, my wonderfully gorgeous and fabulous audience, to experience the most human of battle!?”

Tylior can’t believe it. “Human?” he asks the air in front of him after trying to clear his mouth of the sudden confusion taking over him as well as the rest of his punch. “What does he mean by human?”

“I’ve got my theories,” Aofil answers to Tylior’s clearly rhetorical question. “Sevoltne was a health inspector, right? Has she ever inspected Mettaton’s restaurant?”

Tylior nods while drying his mouth off with a napkin from his pocket. “Yeah,” he says after coughing once into it. “She was very excited about it.”

“Caught under his spell then,” Aofil regrets to inform. “He must’ve drilled that idea into her. Muffet’s done catering for him too, so she’s also been exposed.” Aofil finishes off their sentence like they would their mortal enemy, with extreme prejudice and growling.

“Through extensive research of our wonderful humans’ culture I have come to find out their ancient ways of settling disputes. Not with sword, not with magic, but with dancing!”

Aofil feels drained all of a sudden. The same way they feel at around the third hour of Toriel going through all the steps and procedures about an upcoming fire drill for the school. And the same way when Aofil thinks back to that four hour long meeting on a Friday evening when they were standing outside the ringing school building after a minute or two of getting their class out to the parking lot.

Just tired.

More punch will have to suffice as a remedy.

“Your contestants for today have already sent in their preferred music tracks as I requested on my MTT Talk Of The Week number 555027 broadcast daily and hourly on days with contest with all my fabulous prizes!”

More punch is required still.

Tylior seems to think so as well.

Human minds think alike.

“Oh yes indeed, my lovely audience!” Mettaton cheers while kicking his leg into the air. He keeps it up for too long before taking it down again. “Every single day you can hear me talk about whatever is important right now! My new collection! Sales at my store! Love! Hope! Politics!”

What?

Aofil samples their punch again, but there’s no alcohol in it to explain what they just heard. Did they hear wrong then? Surely they must’ve? Mettaton and politics? That can’t be correct in any shape or form!

“You heard that too, didn’t you?” Tylior asks with worry painted more prominent on his face than the green from the colored bulbs above him. “Politics?”

“Yeah, I did,” answers Aofil with their brow sinking over their eyes. “What has Muffet been listening to?”

“What has Sevoltne been listening to too?”

“Poll and ticks,” comes a correction from behind and above the two humans. They turn around in unison, and their necks crane up. “A part of his show where he takes votes about his flea circus.” Asriel drags a soft smile before opening his palm for the humans. “You want me to refill you two?”

Aofil takes a quick look inside their cup. “I’m fine,” they answer after seeing that it still has some left in it. Yes, they’re only one of a small handful of humans at this party, but drinking punch just because there’s little risk for a queue at the portable toilets isn’t something they’d rather do. They know their luck, and they’re not gonna push it. Oh, and also, “Weren’t you and Undyne fighting just now?”

“She caught the whiff of Mettaton about to make a scene and decided to postpone our battle until a later date to save the party from, in her words, gaudy pink god complexed metallic squeeze box.”

A what? “Squeeze box?”

“Accordion.”

“Ah.” Aofil swivels over to their friend who hasn’t blinked for a while now. “How about you, Tylior? You need some more punch?”

Had Tylior not been busy staring wide-eyed at the Prince of the monsters not only surprising him by showing up out of nowhere, but also offering to refill his drink all of a sudden, he’d taken the Prince’s offer. However, with the Prince of the monsters standing right next to him as if nothing he’s a bit busy trying to wrap his mind around that the Prince of the monsters is so close to him.

“Aofil!” Tylior whispers through quaking lips. “It’s Asriel! Asriel Dreemurr! The Prince!”

Asriel and Aofil trade looks and shrugs. “Yeah, it is,” Aofil relays to their human friend. “Do you need some more punch that he’s offering for you?”

Asriel’s smile turns questioning, and he looks back at Aofil to get back their attention. “Wait, haven’t you told your human friends that you’re close to us?” He raises an accusing eyebrow that almost pushes his large horn back from the speed of it. “Have you saved mentioning it so that you could triumph it like this?”

The rest of Tylior’s drink spills out of his hand and cup. “Us?” He’ll surely be needing some more after this. Good thing Asriel offered to fetch some.

“I told you and the others about how I got the fur on my arm a while back, didn’t I?” Aofil defends while at the same time moving the blame over to Tylior. “You didn’t listen then?” They throw their furred arm towards where their house is. “And you saw Undyne and Alphys inside my house walking down the street too!” Now it’s their turn to have lips quaking in confusion. “How are you surprised now?”

“I...” spills out of Tylior’s mouth akin to how his drink did from his cup, over a stiffened, red lip. “I don’t know. We were all sure you were making a lot of it up, to be honest, Aofil.”

They’re not so sure about the validity of Asriel’s cough masking poorly his chuckle. Tylior doesn’t notice it as he’s too busy mumbling under his breath. Asriel waits patiently for him to gather his mind, smiling patiently while the cough that all of a sudden came over him fades away. Aofil’s unamused furrow does not, and hangs hard onto the Prince.

“The contestants are soon ready, dear audience! Please find a seat to be on the edge of!”

Asriel so kindly hands over some folded chairs from a nearby table to some small monsters while Tylior continues his thoughtful murmur. After the fourth chair’s been moved he finally lifts his head and blinks himself back to reality. “So let me get this straight.” His attempt to sound confident fails immediately. “How close are you to the Royal Family, Aofil?”

“Aofil’s a part of the Royal Family,” Asriel answers before Aofil can make it out to be less than it really is. “They’ve done more for us monsters than you can imagine, human. Almost as much as Frisk has.”

The faux confident expression melts away into an astute and attentive widening of Tylior’s eyes and mouth now hung more agape. Even when it’s from the Prince’s assured and authoritative voice it’s still not enough to pierce his disbelief. 

“I’m family in soul, not legally,” Aofil appends in case Tylior gets any other ideas.

“Don’t you mean in spirit?” comes as a reflexive answer from the baffled human. “Wait,” he says while snapping his head down to Aofil’s arm. “You’re saying ‘in soul’ like a monster… And with that arm...”

“I’m still human,” Aofil explains while lifting up and presenting their furred arm for their friend who hesitates to touch it. “But I’ve become part monster too. Helped them a bit too much to not be affected by it myself. Equal and opposite reaction and all that.” 

Equal and opposite reaction…

It’s gone from science to magic, finally. Aofil’s justifying their arm with the same phrase, but today is different from before. This time they ain’t punching with science, but embracing with magic. Not less human, but more monster. “It’s a long story, Tyl, and if you had trouble believing just a patch I don’t think you can handle the entire arm,” Aofil finishes off with a snicker. “No offense, but even I’m having some trouble with this, even if it’s much better now than it was before.”

“Aofil’s not the same Aofil from before they arrived in Monster City, human,” Asriel continues with his hands clasped before him on his robe, very much like his mother. Same with the way he delivers his calming words. The understanding in his eyes, as well as his softened shoulders. He’s the antithesis of threatening, with his presence that of an ant despite his length, but at the same time giving off an aura of complete authority as to what he’s about to explain. “And it’s been for the better. They’ve helped us monsters so much that they’ve become part monster themselves. Not removed anything from their humanity though, but added to it. They’re still the same Aofil you know, but they’re not the same one that came here.”

Couldn’t put it better, Prince. Good job.

And thank you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about, your highness,” Tylior infers with a shake to his head.

“Call me Asriel, please,” the Prince slips in friendly while Tylior collects his words.

He nods despite it being obvious that he didn’t do it consciously. He has complete trust in Asriel. Might even give up his bank details if Asriel mentioned he needed them for something. “I am not worried about them being a monster, Asriel.” He gestures over to the buzzling stage. “I’m set to marry one myself.”

To that, Asriel smiles cordially. “My soul is warmed hearing that, human. Do please inform my father and mother about your arrangements and when you plan for them. I am sure they will help make it wondrous.” He puts up a hand to Tylior’s instinctive reaction to ask why. “We’d love to help arrange the first human and monster wedding. To help combine traditions for the future. It’ll be an undertaking that we as Royals should assist with. We don’t want to impose ourselves, of course, but we’d be eager to help. Naturally, the first marriage between a human and a monster after our return to the Surface is worthy of celebration all the way to the crown, isn’t it?”

Why don’t you overwhelm poor Tylior a bit more there, Asriel? Just like your mother and father with acting too friendly with your subjects. Blurring the line as to what’s supposed to be kingly, queenly, and princely, and then wondering why everyone’s taking a step back to understand what just happened.

And also.

“What if Muffet and I get married first?” Aofil chips in with undeserved confidence.

“You won’t,” Asriel says with such a smug smile on his lips that it’s a wonder his fur isn’t turning black with the way his tone changed. “Don’t be silly.”

Oh who is it that’s being silly now? Aofil folds their arm over their puffed-up chest while wringing their left wrist like Undyne does when she’s on the verge of making a spear. There won’t be any cyan threat expanding out of their hand though. Aofil’s smile isn’t crooked and eager enough to even begin to muster up enough pretend animosity to have their magic flare up dramatically.

Nor are they proficient enough to even manifest their tail properly to begin with, but that’s not important right now.

What is important is that Asriel notices the gesture of Aofil’s wrist. “You doubt that we love each other still?”

“Doubt?” Asriel repeats with feigned thought behind it. “Me? No, of course not. I just know that you’d never ask mom or dad about it and even if we suggested it you’d still say no because you’re so unworthy and humble and just a human that’s not done a lot for monsterkind and who says all the time that they’re baffled by all of this magic while still having magical cutlery doing all of your housework for you.”

That’s not-

“And then Frisk would come over and talk with you and you’d start to think properly,” he continues after a long sigh. “But only after someone else does it first because you don’t want to hog the spotlight since you’ve already done it enough already.”

But-

“Ironically what would make you commit to Muffet would be Frisk flirting with you so that you’d wake up and for once let us spoil you, Aofil! Muffet cut her hair for you, Aofil. That’s like her giving away her pastry for free, and that she does for you too! We want to spoil you just as much, Aofil. Let us for once, please.”

Now before Aofil can address that last part. “What do you mean by Frisk flirting with me, exactly?”

“Oh they do that all the time! Wait...” Asriel begins breaking down into a laugh that wipes away any semblance of his mother possessing him. “You’re kidding? You’ve never noticed? Oh fluffbun, that’s fantastic!” 

Gone from a Prince to a teenager in the blink of an eye, Asriel has. Folded over his magnificent robe with his preciously white hand gripping the railing. His slicked back tuft of hair bouncing out of control and puffing up like the fur on his chest escaping through the gaps between the string holding together his collar. “No wonder they always score extra points with you on their assignments!”

What does he mean by that? Frisk always does good on their assignments. They’re always well motivated and thorough. To top it all off they always stop and chat with Aofil about it before they...hand...it...in…

The red color of the plastic cup crumbling into a two dimensional surface inside Aofil’s clenching hand pales in comparison to their blossoming cheeks. “That. Little. Punk.” They’ve made a habit of wearing pink shirts underneath their blue shirts because of Frisk’s compliments, and all this time they’ve showed Frisk that they’ve been captive underneath their flirting. 

Oooooh… 

Aofil’s gonna grab Frisk by the horns and-

“Aofil! For heaven’s sake! Why is the Prince snorting with laughter and making fun of you!?”

Oh yeah, Tylior’s here…

Aofil just sorta forgot about him.

Well that’s embarrassing. Luckily Aofil’s cheeks are already bright-red from what Asriel said. “I...um...”

“And you’re the Prince!” Tylior directs over to Asriel struggling to catch his breath with his mouth contorted into a laughter so vicious it’s become sorta painful at this point. His entire mighty form heaves with each snort, and his grip hardens on the railing almost to the point of leaving his imprints on it. “You were one just a second ago, that is.” When no answer except poorly contained chortles emerge from Asriel, Tylior tries again with Aofil. His hands beg to them! They beg to everything that’s holy! “What’s happened with you, Aofil? I could believe that you felt better with the monsters from watching you not even react to your house running down the street, but this!” He puts his arm almost angrily above Asriel while still keeping a respectful distance. “The Prince of all monsters is bent over laughing after revealing that the Royal Human flirts with you after he made fun of your sex life!”

Tylior’s arms return to him, slapping the top of his head with both palms. “I’m more confused about this than my to-be wife challenging your monster girlfriend to a dance-off to settle a score!” As much as he presses against his skull though, it doesn’t help him. “How the fuck did that happen? It’s not supposed to happen! Look!”

With a throw of his arm that would surely dislocate it had it not been held together by his sheer will to try and make sense of what he’s heard, Tylior directs the attention over to Sevoltne and Muffet about to begin their battle.

“Are you ready to join us now?” Mettaton asks the bouncing crowd as the music begins. It’s not what Aofil expected, not even close. Seems to be Muffet’s music as well, which they expected even less!

Her hands in the air, bobbing like springs above her head in rhythm to the extremely twee music. Some of the guard dogs in the crowd begin to howl at it. No surprise since the vocals cuts off in between some of the words. The tone’s so artificially high it reaches outside Aofil’s hearing. They’ve heard Muffet chirp high with her spiders before, so perhaps it isn’t grinding at her ears like it is Aofil’s.

As the verse changes, so does her hip movement. From bouncing from side to side she’s now turning back and forth, all the while with her hands bouncing above her smiling head as the crowd begins cheering. “Listen and learn, it is time for prancing~~” she sings along. “Now we are here with-”

“A. O. Fil!” Tylior interrupts with a heavy snap in front of Aofil’s glazed eyes. “Focus, please!”

But… “You told me to look?”

Tylior falls back on the railing with his arms strewn on each side for balance. His legs slide out from underneath him, and he’s left hanging above the grass by the whim of his tired arms. Looks like he’s gotten some monster to him as well judging by how dramatic he is. “Next thing you’ll tell me is that you know magic...”

Aofil doesn’t immediately shoot it down with an exploding chuckle and a demeaning tease against Tylior’s intelligence for being so silly as to suggest something that utterly ridiculous for a human to be able to do. They don’t immediately wave it away after said non-existing chuckle, and offering to lift Tylior up on his feet and give him both a physical and metaphorical ground to stand on.

They don’t do any of that.

“Aofil...”

Since unfortunately he’s correct.

“No...” Tylior shakes his head at Aofil gritting their teeth while scratching their head with their elongated monster-nails. Their guilt shines from them brighter than the spotlight casting the shadows from Muffet striking one final pose at the end of her dance. “You can’t be serious...” He looks to the Prince...to Asriel for any indication that it isn’t true, but all he gets back is a shrug from Asriel busy drying the tears from his eyes.

“I can...um...make a magical tail.” Why does it sound so weird saying it out loud? “Not right now, but I’m learning. Right now it’s just a magical shimmer that I can feel with my soul, so I can’t show it, unfortunately.”

“And I can vouch while swearing on the Deltarune that it is true,” Asriel promises with his tear-drenched fingers making dark spots on his robe where he pushes his hand against his chest. “Frisk and Aofil both know magic. I’m sure you’ve heard about the horns Frisk has grown. It is the same with Aofil’s arm. Frisk have discovered an affinity for healing, whereas Aofil can conjure up a magical appendage in the form of a tail.”

“But...but why a tail?”

That reason Aofil will take with them to their grave. “No idea,” they lie.

“Guess I’ll have to prepare myself to see it to believe it later then.” Tylior angles one of his hands over his eyes which he rubs hard. A bit too hard for Aofil’s taste. They can almost see the veins of his eyeball through his eyelids that he’s stretching out so much. “And maybe I’ll take you up on that offer about the punch, Asriel.”

The Prince offers a sturdy hand for Tylior to get back up on his feet. “I’ll fetch you a new cup while I’m at it,” he adds with a smile. “You too, Aofil?”

“I’m fine still.”

Asriel nods, “Alright,” and turns back to Tylior with Toriel possessing his posture again. “And do please consider my offer about your wedding, human. As I said, we’ll be more than happy to assist in any way we can. Be it from flower arrangements to suits and dresses. We have plans to make accommodations for monster culture at the church at the foot of Mt. Ebott, and what better way to inaugurate the melding of our two cultures with a monster and human wedding?”

Aofil slowly grabs hold of Asriel’s wrist before Asgore’s enthusiasm swallows him whole and he begins promising the moon and all of its cheese to be catered at the wedding as well. “Tylior will think about it, Asriel,” they politely, yet firmly, inform him. They give Asriel’s wrist a quick grip to help get the message across. “You were offering to bring us some more punch, yes?”

Asriel only now realizes that Tylior’s neck is craned as far back as physically possible, and that he is practically leaning over the confused human with his entire body. His cheeks feel a bit too tensed as well, so his smile must’ve been a bit overbearing. He coughs into his fist while straightening himself and pulling down on his robe to straighten it too. “Yes, I did. I will be along with you humans again shortly.”

His cape almost whips at the humans as he turns around quickly on his heel, and Aofil beats it back before it chops off their nose. “So Boss Monsters are even more overwhelming than normal monsters too?” mutters Tylior after Asriel’s walked out of hearing distance. “No wonder you’re so desensitized to magic if this is what you have to face each day.”

He has NO idea.

“Oh well,” sighs Tylior between his fingers running down his face. “Guess I’m still legible for a third place at least.”

“Third place of what?” There’s a competition? What does that have to do with Aofil acting desensitized about magic?

“...He hasn’t found you?” Tylior lips clam together and pop open audibly. “So I got the scoop before he did? Nice. I’m gonna say that you owe me for this, actually. Now you’ve had some practice with telling another human about all the crazy stuff that’s happened to you!”

“Stop.” Aofil knows their reason for halting the conversation for more explanation is borderline hypocritical after what they’ve put Tylior through, but they’re gonna stop him regardless. “Who are you talking about?”

“By the way, Aofil,” greets Asriel returning with some freshly poured punch into a whole cup to Tylior. “There’s a reporter finishing up with Frisk about their relation with monsters, and he asked if I could direct you his way if I found you. He was making a list or something.”

Did Asriel wait behind a tree again to chime in with that kind of timing? Another magic shared between all the monsters. Their impeccable sense of timing, both the worst and the best kind. 

“I’m also gonna head closer to the stage in case Undyne plans on causing a scene with Mettaton,” the Prince adds while motioning towards a none-too-subtle cyan glow sneaking through the sea of monsters clapping for Sevoltne to begin her performance. “Would you like to join me, Tylior?” he asks while bowing slightly. “It’s your future wife up on the scene, after all. I’ll help you get a good place in the audience.”

“Sure thing.” Tylior nods as thanks before winking to Aofil and pointing a finger extended from holding his filled red cup. “Don’t give too much away at the interview though, is my tip to you, Aof. I’m sure you haven’t even mentioned half, if not a quarter, of what has actually happened to you, and I’d say you tell the reporter just as much. Gotta keep some secrets to when you eventually write your memoirs, right?”

As if anyone would want to read that.

“He’s on the other side of the hill,” Asriel helps direct. “Should be finishing up with Frisk. You know how to spot them.” Afterwards he gestures for Tylior to follow him. “Do tell how you met Sevoltne. I’m eager to hear.”

Tylior’s incredibly detailed recollection hinges on the truth of what actually happened. Again, Aofil shouldn’t be pointing fingers since they’d curl right back at them. Should make for a good story though in the future, and Aofil might even be so nice to their friend as to oblige this blatantly touched-up story and vouch for it.

Alright, where was it Asriel said the reporter was? Over yonder? Muffet’s clearly won the dance competition already so there’s no real point to watch how Sevoltne will flail about in retaliation, so Aofil may as well make Tylior happy with this at least.

And hey, on the way they can grab some cake too.

Then they’ll have a good way of getting pause for thought just by eating some. Plenty of trees there too so Aofil can hide and wait for the opportune moment to approach.

\--

“And that’s when I discovered not only that I had horns, but that I could summon healing magic too.”

“If you wouldn’t mind showing me some, please? Both as a way for me to describe it properly to the readers, but also since...well...I stretched a muscle yesterday while chasing after Mettaton for an interview, and the soothing gel has started to fade.”

Not the right moment yet. Just a bit more…

“Of course. Which leg is it?”

There we go. Both are busy, and Aofil can easily round them without noticing so that they can appear from within the monster sea. That way they’ll not ask how long Aofil’s been standing behind a nearby tree for.

Two minutes. While eating Muffet’s cake as silently as possible.

But no one will know of that.

Just gotta squeeze between these last two monsters and…

“Oh! Aofil?”

“Oh! Frisk?” Aofil greets back after regaining their balance which they pretended to lose. “I thought you were closer to the stage.”

“I was,” Frisk answers while hovering their hands in a circular motion over the reporter’s left calf. Green magic flows along their movement with a thick viscosity to it, almost like slime. It’s more hazy though, with a more cloudy texture. Not a lot of sparks and lightning cracks jumping from it either. 

Aofil’s impressed.

And envious.

“So you’re Aofil?” the reporter asks after debating with himself whether it’s rude or not to greet this other human while the one he was interviewing is busy healing his leg. Frisk makes short work of their nursing though, and after some tapping with his heel and a heartfelt thanks to Frisk, he stretches out his hand to Aofil. “I’m a reporter for Ebott’s Quake. We enlighten when Ebott’s casting it’s long morning shadow across the town, shaking up the mornings with our hard-hitting reporting that quakes the mountain.”

Must’ve been a new newspaper then. Aofil can’t remember that one existing when they moved away. They remember that free one, and the other one they didn’t have a subscription to. Which was it again? It had a similar name...

‘Ebott’s Wake’?

Yeah, that’s the one. Very detailed and surprisingly scientific. Aofil didn’t get around to that one, but from what they heard it was pretty neat.

Maybe in an alternate life.

And speaking of that, Aofil should give that Forshyte guy a callback about that timeshare thingy. Not really specifically about the timeshare, but perhaps they can weasel out some cheaper rates for a hotel when they decide to take Muffet somewhere nice. They'll do it tomorrow though.

“You might have heard of my alias then,” the reporter tries as it’s very clear that Aofil’s unaware of the newspaper. “I’m Mister Lister.”

With the way Aofil’s flushed with such sudden and overwhelming emotion they might’ve been able to discover their magic today had they’d not done it earlier.

Mister Lister!

In the flesh!

Oh my…

“I’ve heard of you, yeah,” Aofil says with their emotions behind a dam about to crack and spill all over. Frisk’s keen to notice the massive shift in Aofil’s aura though. With their horns they have great reception for that. They’re almost pushed back by the force of it. “So you’re in Monster City now?”

“I’m reporting for today’s event, yes,” Mister Lister says proudly while moving a silver streak of hair behind his ear. “Since it is the eighteenth birthday of the child that freed the monsters I thought it would be a good idea to further increase interest for humans to move here. To that I’m compiling a list of humans that are already here along with their tales about how their lives been affected by living among monsters. I’d love to get your story after I’ve finished up with Frisk.”

“Actually,” Frisk interrupts with a raised finger. “I was about to get to where Aofil moved here before we got sidetracked by my magic. We can tell what happened together and get a dual-view of the events,” they suggest with a friendly shrug. “Give you more time to find other humans, Lister.”

“S-sure!” he replies with a splitting smile. “That sounds perfect. I’ll get a good photo of the two hopes of the Surface together too. How about you stand over there underneath the lamps and we’ll wait for them to shift into a light-blue to contrast the orange sunset, yes?” Mister Lister gestures for his two interviewees to move where he suggested as he begins fumbling with a nearby tripod.

“Hopes of the Surface?” Aofil whispers to Frisk with an eyebrow quirked. “Plural?”

“I’m the ambassador too,” Frisk answers very politically. “I gotta advertise. You’ll get over your vertigo of being put up on a pedestal. You gotta stay determined, Aofil.”

Mister Lister waves his hand for Frisk and Aofil to move a bit to the side from where they stand. “Just a bit more to the right there and we’ll have some good light.”

“Just imagine Muffet up there with you,” Frisk adds. “Then you’ll never come down. Ahuhuhu~~?”

“Don’t try your flirting magic on me from now on,” Aofil cautions while putting an arm around Frisk to the delight of Lister. That’s not why they did it though, but now Frisk can’t get away. “It won’t work. I’m aware of it now.”

“It still works when you’re aware of it,” Frisk says before smiling for the camera at Lister’s request.

“Is that so?”

“You only raised your eyebrow against being called a hope of the Surface, but you didn’t dismiss it, did you? And you won’t dismiss it, I know that you won’t no longer.”

Oh it’s hard to swear through a smile, but Aofil’s sure as hell gonna do it.

“Dammit.”


	180. Thunderspotting

‘Number five on this list is taken by the first human employee at the MTT Emporium here at Monster City. After moving here from across country she spent a while meandering around trying to find out where and how she would be able to belong as a human in a city full of monsters. Stumbling into the wrong storefront, she found herself face to face with the face of the MTT Emporium, Mettaton himself. With a pair of extending, welcoming arms he embraced her and offered her to be the first human to join with him to help bridge the gap between humans and monsters.’

“What are you snickering at, Aofil?”

“Oh, nothing,” they answer with their snicker expanding into a quick chortle. “Just a bit of embellishment, that’s all.” With one last amused exhale through their nose they fold their mid-read newspaper in half and hang it on the armrest of their chair to free up their hands. The emptiness is immediately filled with a saucer of cake in one hand and some Golden Flower tea in the other.

It’s a good thing that monster food only serves to thicken Aofil’s tail up, because otherwise they’d just be a blob of fat at this point. Two weeks with leftover cake, and there’s yet to be any free space in their fridge and freezer for anything else than lovingly baked birthday cake. Compliments to the factory that made it to be able to hold in pastry pushing at its doors from inside with relentless force.

More a gentle lean now with how much Aofil has eaten and offered to others, but there’s still enough to feed a conference held by Mettaton as well as his ego. Should be gone today though if the clouds a fair ways away continue to cooperate and not ruin Aofil finally doing good on their promise they made long ago. Those blackened patches collecting into a mass of dark-gray rumbling deeper and louder than Asgore failing to keep his tell under control at poker night. 

The accompanying pressure does take a bit of a toll on Aofil’s head. It’s a blessing in disguise though. A very thumping and gritting disguise, but a disguise nonetheless. Today at least, since the headache only arrives when thunder is all but inevitable. Smiling at it is a bit of a hassle though, what with it being a headache and all that.

Nothing a sip of Aofil’s favorite tea from their favorite spider can’t fix though!

“I got a messenger spider in earlier today, by the way,” Muffet informs while making herself and all of her limbs comfortable in the chair next to Aofil. Muffin slobbers his way between the two, and to his humming delight, receives a monster hand to scratch him behind one ear, and a human hand to scratch behind his other. His tongue flops out of his mouth dragged into a smile with whatever tension is left in his body onto the warm concrete floor that sizzles briefly at the moment of impact. 

The tension left inside him barely lifts up the edges of his cheeks.

“From whom?” Aofil pries courteously. Muffet’s sure to tell them, but she always gets so flustered with excitement when they proclaim their curiosity in her matters. “Friend?” Spider friend? Perhaps a guy spider? Would be interesting to meet.

“Family.”

Well now. “Family?”

“My sister,” Muffet specifies while reaching over with a spider-webbed envelope. She moves it out of Muffin’s reach as he tries to jump up and snap at it with his tongue following close behind. A quick disciplinary frown later from Muffet he returns back and coaxes his head underneath Aofil’s hand a bit more than usual. They use their other arm to take the letter from Muffet due to that. The more Aofil can have Muffin trust them the more chance there is for him to actually listen when Aofil calls for him to stop chasing Papyrus and his pot of home-cooked meals that he so kindly offered due to Aofil’s predicament of not having space in their fridge and freezer because of all the cake.

“SANS IS VERY JEALOUS OF YOU AND MUFFET ABOUT THAT, BY THEY WAY!”

Oh that Aofil has no doubt about. They’ve no space left for it since it’s all occupied by...well...cake...but also a smug happiness birthed by the image of Sans sitting with his arms crossed like a child, muttering to himself.

Such bliss.

After waiting for her human’s pleased smile to recede, Muffet continues while stirring in some honey into her tea. “She’s getting bored with her small village and wants to come visit for a change.”

“Have you told her about...”

“The cake I made for Frisk’s birthday?” Muffet raises her cup proudly in the air. “I told her how high it was and how everyone was so excited when it fell down. It’s the biggest cake ever made! There’s this record book that’s gonna send me a certificate about it too! I’m gonna give it to my sister so she can always know how good her favorite spider sister is. Ahuhuhu~~ It’s gonna be so good seeing her again.”

That’s not really what Aofil meant, but if Muffet’s this happy about it they’re not gonna make those deepened dimples shallow out anytime soon by correcting her. They’re bound to find a clue to their question in the letter from her sister, so they open the envelope up and take it out to read.

It begins with…

With…

With the same scribbles found in Undyne’s training logs after she’s done with a particularly difficult set, over-excited and completely illegible. Aofil isn’t familiar enough with Muffet’s sister’s normal handwriting to recognize where and how the excitement differentiates the lettering. With Undyne it’s longer and more slanted letters that meld together. Simultaneously longer letters due to her overflowing excitement and also smaller words since she wants to write it all at the same time.

It seems that Aofil does have to coax an answer out of their spider since they can’t read this, for lack of a better word, webbed and spun writing. They sigh through their nose and fold the letter inside the envelope again to hand it back over to Muffet. Her one hand that isn’t busy with drinking tea, holding a piece of cake, adjusting the angle of her chair’s backrest, picking up her sunglasses, and petting Muffin, accepts the envelope handed back by Aofil, and she places it on the table next to her. Aofil waits for her to meet their eyes again before asking her. “You haven’t told me a lot about your family, Muffet. How are they?”

The dimples on her chin thin out as she retracts it concernedly. Only her top eye can muster enough courage to look at Aofil, the rest sink down towards her cup that she massages slowly with her thumb. “I...I know what happened to yours.” She waits with her hands curling in unison for Aofil to protest, but they let her speak. “And...I’m not sure how you’d feel if I brought up mine that still was alive.”

Timidly, the rest of her eyes move over to Aofil to see how her human feels about this. They take two of her hands in their human one, and lean in towards her cheek with the back of their furred hand stroking it carefully, quelling her tensed cheek. “My family is very much alive,” they say before giving their spider a soft peck on her rough cheek. “They look very much alive to me, at least. Especially the one spider sitting next to me.”

An angrily slobbering huff explodes from underneath.

“The two spiders sitting next to me,” Aofil corrects after an eye-roll. “One spider that accepts that I’m human, and one spider that apparently doesn’t.”

Muffin burps through his loose lips.

“Yeah, right back at you, you short-fur-ball.” Aofil’s not gonna risk swallowing air to burp back again. They learned their lesson last time when their stomached ached for an hour afterwards.

Muffet’s relieved sigh mixes with her flustered chittering into a soft percussion. “I’m glad to hear that, Aofil.” She returns the peck with a giggle. “I’m sure Mopsy will be very happy to meet you. I haven’t seen her in some time now myself, and I’m curious to see if she’s taken after mom or dad since last time I saw here.”

“Who have you taken after?” Aofil has to ask. The more they know before meeting Muffet’s parents for the first time, the better. “From last time you saw Mopsy, that is?”

“I’m very much my mom’s little spider, whereas Mopsy is dad’s. They both have such curly hair and small fangs, with more harder grip than what mom and I have. When Mopsy and dad knead they fold too hard and make too much gluten. Too chewy and almost rubbery a texture when you bite down on it.”

Well that explains a few things. Aofil picks up the envelope between their index and long finger and present it like they’re about to open it up and declare a winner. “Guess that’s why I had some difficulty reading what she wrote to you.”

“Oh no,” Muffet corrects before sipping some tea. “That’s because she’s blind.”

Uh oh.

The thunderclouds seem white and fluffy compared to the shadows emerging over Aofil’s eyes. The envelope begins slipping from their fingers’ grasp as the realization that they can see more through absolute darkness than the massive blunder that just emerged from their tongue which is now curling so far back in their mouth that they run the risk of choking on it.

As the final corner of the webbed paper slides out from the sweating fingers, it’s caught by a more purple pair of fingers before it can do its first defeated rotation. “Don’t worry, Aofil,” Muffet assures with a calming giggle as she places the envelope back onto the table. “You couldn’t have known, now could you?”

...True, but still. “I...”

With another finger from another hand, Muffet hushes her human on their lips. “You’re human, Aofil. I’m the spider that allows you to make mistakes, remember?” She flicks her finger up on their nose to force them out of their wide-eyed stare born out of panic. “And it’s better that you make it with me rather than with Mopsy.”

Guess so.

“Because despite her lack of vision she can still string up unruly customers better than I ever can.” Muffet shoots two winks over to Aofil’s scared expression. “Ahuhuhu~~” she allows herself before taking a bite out of her cake. “You look so funny when you’re scared that you’ve said the wrong thing.”

“Ahuhuhu,” Aofil returns to that. No laughing to accompany it though. They just say it. The lack of their laughter hits a worrying note with Muffet though, and she lowers her cup from her lips with her many eyes narrowing. There’s a familiar cold washing over Aofil, but if it is from her aura shifting or the low pressure rolling from the thunderclouds in the distance they can’t tell yet.

“I didn’t mean it like I’m angry with you,” Muffet reassures while again reaching out for Aofil. “Was it too much with my family?”

Dammit, Aofil! Now you’ve made Muffet worried! Sort this out now. Today’s supposed to be a happy day. Fix it before the guests arrive. “No!” Aofil pushes out of them with a bit too much bravado and dynamic shake of their head. They clear their throat to take it down a couple of notches and have it actually sound genuine. “No, of course not, sweetie spider. It’s just that I’m excited to meet your family, especially your sister.”

“You sure?” Muffet challenges with care and with all of her eyes observing Aofil for any sign of hesitation. “She is a handful, even for me. But that’s what I like, and you don’t have to.”

“It’s been a while since I had a little sister,” Aofil assures while squeezing their spider’s hands, who squeeze right back to make sure they know that she’s here with all her soul for them. “It’ll be fun to have one again. Do you think she’ll mind having a human sibling?”

“No, no she won’t,” Muffet returns with a small shake to her head. Each turn has her smile returning to her, which relieves Aofil of their worry. The thunderclouds closing in are once again dark-gray, and today can proceed as planned. “She’s excited to meet Frisk to begin with, so once she hears she’ll have a human in her family web she’ll chitter her twin-tails straight.”

“You’re a good older sister to give her such gifts, Muffet,” Aofil very kindheartedly informs while they reach over for their newspaper again. “We can wait with your parents though?” they ask while hovering their hand over the magazine. “If your sister is this much a handful before I even meet her then...”

“Ahuhuhu~~” their spider returns as she closes her eyes to enjoy the short while that’s left of the exposed sun. “You’re gonna be a surprise to them.” She blows a kiss over to them. “That I have decided for us.”

Great.

Or something.

Aofil gets a sloppy and loving raspberry back from their other spider as well.

‘Number 4 on our list is me’

Seriously, Lister? You couldn’t put yourself lower? And here Aofil got the impression that he’d be a bit more humbler after his days at that old free newspaper back in Ebott. There was the complete opposite of an egoistic feeling radiating from him when Aofil was interviewed during Frisk’s birthday party. He was so...curious. Almost Papyrus levels of bending forward to listen further. Maybe that’s what Frisk meant by him being completely see-through, or perhaps they picked up that something was underneath his weathered exterior? 

Let’s see here…

Aofil again folds their newspaper over their chair’s armrest, and with a disciplinary “Tsk” they swat down Muffin’s nose curiously inspecting it now that it has some pastry residue on it. Aofil fishes up their new phone they bought last week out of their pocket and open up its internet browser in the shape of Mettaton presenting the planet with a proud posture.

For as much as Aofil is...not on the same page with Mettaton on a lot of things, him offering the latest model for a price that would be absurd had he not asked for their stamp-card in return, and even then the price is still ridiculous, Aofil just couldn’t say no to. It works, even better than their previous one by a long shot. Especially since it’s currently somewhere down in the dark depths at the fringe of Waterfall. They should be able to use the magical identification on it after all the cake has been eaten from the refrigerator according to Alphys after she inspected it a bit too long for it not to be obvious that she was admiring it more than she was helping Aofil with it. Undyne’s twitching wrists were kept far away from it lest she’d want to test how well it would hold up against a magical spear somehow being thrust into it over and over again.

Her words.

“You calling to see when our guests are arriving?” Muffet quirks with only two eyes opened. She narrowly opens a third one to guide her cup into her mouth. “They should be here anytime now, right?”

“I’m just gonna check on something,” Aofil answers while they very carefully scroll away from the Mettaton sponsored search results lest he begins reading them out with a volume loud enough to wake the spider monster Aofil finally figured out the right present to buy for in the middle of the night.

For once Muffin’s eager appetite came in handy, but only briefly, as Aofil had to fetch it out of their pet’s mouth after they disposed of Mettaton’s voice about to spoil the surprise for Muffet into it. Luckily Muffin wasn’t handy and army when Aofil hesitantly reached into his mouth afterwards.

They still have some bare patches of fur where his teeth did grind on their arm though. The hairball that followed was worse than usual since Aofil knew it was their own inside the bundled-up sphere of hairy saliva.

Alright, now to Mister Lister before Aofil vomits from remembering.

Let’s see here again… Mister Lister… Born whatever. Raised wherever. Previous career whatever. Correspondent for the Riot. List of achievements. That’s a given.

Wait?

The Riot?

Aofil hunkers over their phone to provide some shade over it so that they can read better the small font on their phone. Mister Lister was at the Riot? Well, makes sense since it took place at Ebott, but what did he do there exactly?

‘The Riot, as many of you know, was not only a time of great distress, but also a time of great hope and importance. It was the lit match thrown onto the pile of fuel gleaming with eager tinder waiting to ignite and set the Surface ablaze like the war between humans and monsters did so many years ago. However, the winds of change snuffed the spark out, and leading that front was an investigative reporter mostly known for making lists.’

Muffet assist their human flailing their arm to find where they put their saucer with cake. “Thanks,” Aofil says in reflex as she puts the plate inside their furred hand which swiftly travels to their mouth to give them some solid pastry as they begin to drown in what they read. 

‘It was not a secret that my lists and articles during the days and weeks before the Riot where heavily skewed towards the human side of things. Accusatory, as everything was back during those harrowing weeks of uncertainty without respite. Fingers, feathers, claws, tentacles, all pointing at each other with eyes angled the same. In anger. The demand for justice overwhelmed the demand for sleep most nights. The demand for food and drink once caught up to me one night, and as I slipped into unconsciousness the blame I uttered through my dry mouth was that of the monsters, and not my own. It was the monsters’ fault that I was so obsessed with them. It was the monsters’ fault that I was falling unconscious. And of course, it was the monsters’ fault for the deaths of the seven human children. I just had to rest for a bit, and then I’d continue crusading to give them the peace that the monsters robbed them off.’

Again, an arm so accustomed to refilling her guests’ cups, for a fee, helps Aofil reconstitute their emptied spider-webbed cup. It’s a side of Aofil Muffet’s not seen until now. Well, apart from one time before. Their intense staring they mostly play for laugh, and that she’s very much inclined to laugh along, but now it’s intense in the way that nothing else can exist since they’re busy. Their entire being is in this moment, with nothing allowed from outside to compromise its integrity.

They had the exact same look on their face when Muffet told them how lonely she felt the first time the two met in the Underground. The same second-long pause where the muscles in Aofil’s face relaxes to free up energy so that they can tense their ears, eyes, and soul to the task at hand. Be it reading for now, and listening back then.

Muffet’s always had attention from all the other monsters, but no one was ever attentive with her. Even if it was for a brief moment before Aofil’s fear took over back then. It was genuine, and it’s been ever more genuine since the collection show at Mettaton’s restaurant. It’s been anything but fear since then. Hesitation, yes, but never fear. Or maybe fear from Aofil that they’d do wrong, but not fear from Muffet, but from themselves.

She strokes the flushed cheek of her human gently with the back of her hand. She doesn’t want to tear them away from being genuine, but at the same time she wants them to grab her hand back and have her know that they realize what she’s doing. 

Maybe...maybe she’s falling in love for a second time seeing them this intense again?

Ahuhuhuhu~~ She wouldn’t say no to that.

Her hand warmed by the flush cheek of her one and only human moves over to her own, which blossoms the same way, but not nearly as bright as Aofil’s. Their aura will suffice as a kiss for now until she can nestle herself into their lap and enjoy the flustered comfort of their aura as it begins radiating outside of their control. The way their aura just washes over her is so intoxicating, because it’s pure emotion from Aofil. They don’t know how to control it fully yet, and Muffet almost wishes they never will!

Then she can be overwhelmed by a human’s aura so in love with her each and every single day!

“I love you, Aofil,” she says while pushing her warmed palm further into her cheek. “Fuhuhuhu~ You’re the best human a spider can have.” Despite the lack of reaction from Aofil she knows they heard her. Their brain might’ve not, but their soul did, and the fluster comes washing over her like a warm, steamy bath. She closes her eyes as it sweeps through her, and breathes out content when it subsides.

She’s gonna fetch them some more cake now. Maybe even bake a fresh one now that she has some fresh human love and hope coursing through her. It gives this cardamon authority and a sourness to it like fresh rhubarb. Not a sourness that’s bad and collapses the cheeks, but one that makes them vibrate with life and luster. It gives everyone the same rosy cheeks as Aofil’s. 

And it sells by the tonne each week!

Muffet’s so lucky she has such an inexhaustible supply at her disposal!

“Come Muffin,” she whispers to her pet. “Let’s leave our human alone to read for a while.”

He only moves half plus one of his legs at her command at first, but after she snaps a coaxing finger, all of them carry him over to her side. She smiles down at him with an amused shake to her head. “I’m not gonna let you eat them up before I do, Muffin,” Muffet informs with three winks. “And don’t you think I’ll leave even a single crumb left for you.”

The slobbered scoff does little to convince otherwise, and after a glance over the rugged hairs on his back, Muffin follows his owner inside the patio door.

“And then I want you four spatulas to help with stretching for gluten,” emerges from the kitchen window opening to let air in and the upcoming smells out. It falls deaf on the single pair of ears left outside. There’s no attention remaining for them to hear as it’s all focused on the paragraphs scrolling down the screen in Aofil’s hand. Page upon page it seems, but soon they’ll be done. The end of the long wall is in sight.

Finally, Aofil can exhale through their teeth and take a minute for themselves to take in all the information that they’ve inhaled.

And finally confirm to the site’s usage of their data towards advertisers. Fluffbun, it’s even longer now since Aofil has a monster phone. The appended information about their magic’s data is almost twice as long as their normal data. They’ve almost forgot what they were reading… They’ll probably have to go back later and reread later.

But anyways...

‘I was a human then, I’m a human now, and I’ve been a human my entire life. As a human I don’t regret taking the side I did. What I did on that side though, I regret. With my magical soul and my biological heart I regret it, as is the case of the monsters and humans I’ve interviewed since then when the subject is brought up and the eyes focus on a distant horizon still pink from the hate and rage that set so long ago, but still lingers in the mind. What changed my sky from hateful scarlet to the first hint of purple was what I found out during my investigations of the other side for my latest list that would give us humans the final reason to demand justice for the seven children that had lost their lives. From the monsters with their sharp talons, teeth, scaly skin, furred bodies, and ghostly appearances, was humanity. A humanity I recognized and that I instinctively sympathized with. There was humanity in spades wherever I snuck around the monsters. Wherever I eavesdropped at the courthouse I overheard words that I never could imagine from mouths shaped vertically. From mouths shaped like beaks, like muzzles, and even mouths that would form spontaneously out of molding forms only to disappear the second after they were done spoken. They spoke about family and friends the same way I did. The words were the same from mouth to mouth. From mine to the most distant monster. We weren’t fighting one race against another, we were fighting among ourselves.’

Mister Lister wrote this? Granted, Aofil’s been letting the Riot stay in the past since they weren’t involved in it.

...This time around, that is.

They weren’t gonna be either side’s pawn in the conflict, so they stuck their head in to the best of their abilities. They had more personal matters about the monsters, and if they’d jumped into societal matters as well they’d been swallowed whole by it.

A shiver shoots up their spine, but despite it they continue with their reading. 

‘The War long ago separated monsters and humans, and while the reason might’ve been chosen to be lost and forgotten, we today have chosen to start a new chapter. The era of the Barrier has been long, centuries, and it ended in flames and violence. The next page over, however, is the chapter we’re living in today. It’s filled with hope, love, and collaboration. It’s a chapter which we’ll all work together to make even longer than the Barrier. It’ll be a chapter that never ends. The last chapter of monsters and humans, written together. I, for one, dear reader, am excited about it. I can feel my gray streaks get their color back as I write this. There’s been whispers about blossoming romances between humans and monsters from around the world, and it’s only a matter of time before that becomes as predictable to us as the sun rising in the morning. It may have set for a long time for the monsters, but they’ve acclimated back to it wonderfully. Magically, even. I’m honored and privileged to have them in my life as friends, and I hope for you to have them as your family soon. Tomorrow I will publish my list of Mettaton’s top ten collection items to look forward to next season. Number four includes a human, even. So look forward to tomorrow, monsters and humans, and look forward to it together.’

Aofil denies the offer to sign up for Mister Lister’s email list out of instinct as it pops up on their phone’s screen as they reach the bottom of the article. They lean back and unlatch their chair’s armrests in the same motion to have the backrest angle down. Their furred arm moves behind their head as a pillow, and they breathe out into the lukewarm gust traveling across them while closing their eyes to rest them up a bit.

They still can’t believe that Mister Lister wrote that. Maybe he has a ghost writer for those? Could be one of his monster friends he mentioned? Or that the ghost writer mentioned, that is. Could also be that he’s making those lists as main dish and saving up those articles as a dessert on occasions. 

Either way, dang.

“i’ve seen less waxing philosophical than when that one woshua tried its hand at that slam poetry marathon.”

Seems that gust was more gusto than wind.

“How was it?” Aofil asks the occupant of the chair next to them without opening their eyes. “Clean language, I’m guessing?”

“mostly a wash,” comes as a pleased answer after some folding of inked paper. The other chair is unlatched as well, and squeaks as it’s tilted back. “soap opera, you could call it.”

“Is that so?”

“i’ll be back officially in a bit with the others. just gotta let you know real quick before your pet flattens his face on the glass bottom of your patio door about something i heard from no-longer-kiddo.”

“As if any of you would ever let them be something else than kiddo.” It will most likely include Aofil as well, to be fair. “But yeah, what is it, Sans?”

Long seconds filled with the gentle whistling and humming from inside the kitchen window along with some occasional metallic murmur pass by Aofil and their patience. Didn’t Sans say he needed to say something quick? Why this pause for effect then? Nothing bad’s happened, right? He wouldn’t have waited to make those Woshua puns if it’d been serious. Is he…

Oh, he is…

Aofil smacks the blue jacket with the back of their human hand for more impact. It manages to make the smiling skull swivel on its exposed vertebrae over to their direction. “hm?” falls out between the clamped teeth. “you down on my down?” Sans quips while nodding to the crater Aofil made in his jacket. Slowly it refills back to its original form, but the impact’s already reverberated through to Sans’ soul. Betrayed by his human friend. Assaulted for no-

“No,” Aofil states before Sans can concoct something annoying for Aofil to swallow. “What was it you were in such a hurry about?”

“oh many things,” he tells with hurry that he isn’t showing. What he instead decides to show is a thumb thrown over his hood towards the backdoor of Aofil’s house. “like i said, gotta make it quick before your spider pet slams into your patio door and flattens his face against the glass.” 

Another long pause passes by. Why Aofil doesn’t interrupt it they’ve no idea, to be honest. Oh well, at least he’s confessing to Aofil’s suspicion that it’s not actually in a hurry. He just wants to see Muffin hurt himself. 

“Don’t think you’ll get the show you’re after,” Aofil pretends to regret to inform with a dramatic sigh. “Muffin’s busy helping Muffet with her baking at the moment. That’s what it sounds like, at least.” With a thumb thrown over the top of their chair’s backrest they point towards their kitchen window where the happy whistling from Muffet is clearly heard. “So pray tell, my dear skeleton, what’s the message from Frisk?”

“That we’re here!”

The brightness from the sun is replaced by the familiar subdued dark of moving shadows causing Aofil’s closed eyelids to relax and tighten with each oscillation in light. Suppose they have to open their eyes fully now to greet their guests passing by them. “Hi there,” they greet the Dreemurrs stepping around the patio fence with one eye opened. With some effort from having to sit up formally after finding a very comfortable slouchy position in their chair, Aofil opens up their other eye and motion towards the many chairs they set up before in an arc on their patio. The biggest chairs they could find, as well as that old sofa their cutlery and Muffet’s spiders helped carry out, are arranged in what Aofil hopes to be obvious enough which will belong to which monster.

And human.

Although, with Sans having made himself too comfortable in Muffet’s chair now that the condiments on his jackets have begun sticking to the frame and webbed fabric, it’s apparently not obvious enough. “You mind moving over to the chair with the plastic cover so that I don’t have to go buy those special soaps for chair fabric, Sans?”

“I have some to share if you need,” offers Toriel ever so lovingly and generously. In stark contrast to the undercurrent Aofil sent over to Sans through their clenched teeth and piercing gaze. “I’m sure Muffet has some lemons as well to help with some of the stains otherwise.”

The bend between a furred forearm and upper arm hidden underneath a folded shirt turns from obtuse to acute as Asriel tucks at his washed collar up to his nose. His ear gently pats at his neck that he bends to the side to be able to smell the lemon hint still lingering inside his shirt. “Oh,” he reacts, pleasantly surprised, while a quick and impressed frown curls his lips downwards. “That explains the scent.” He returns his arm to resting across the backrest of the sofa he’s placed himself in the middle of. 

His parents will probably join him shortly, but for now they’re standing up until Aofil offers for them to sit down. Asriel already knows they’re all welcome to take a seat, which he’s done without having to be asked.

Like a proper respectful guest.

According to him.

“Lemon helps with getting the smell of ozone out of clothes,” explains Toriel as she starts unpacking and distributing some knitted purple blankets for all to use. “Ever since Asriel’s found his magic at Frisk’s party he’s been showing it off whenever he can,” she whispers to Aofil while handing over their blanket.

That Aofil’s well aware off. Fuku’s flames have turned from her usual green to a more flustered pink while hiding behind the lockers, quietly observing Asriel flexing his magic. Aofil’s been forced to step in and drag the prince down by his horns back to the ground before he pokes a hole in his own inflated ego and makes a mess of both himself and everyone around him. Fuku’s not the only one turning more pink though, not with Asriel sighing through his widened nostril while he sits behind her during chemistry.

Hopefully he won’t use that Bunsen burner ice-breaker MK’s assured him would work. Aofil’s not sure if the Royal Image can survive that one. The high-school already has one hopeless love situation with that ladybug and her absolutely-not-obvious crush on her feline friend in that superhero club of theirs.

“These Bunsen burners have such gorgeous colors to them, but there’s one beautiful flame-color I feel they’re missing.”

Aofil’s made a note of not allowing Asriel and Fuku’s to be in the same group during their lessons. For both monsters’ sake. 

“Lately there’s been a lot of ozone on his shirts,” Toriel finishes off while leaning in towards Aofil and away from her son, who still throws both his arms into the air at her embarrassing gossiping. “Some burned fringes too on his collars.”

“Mom!” the son protests, to the amusement of his human sibling giggling hard in the sun-chair next to him. “Why?”

“When you’re washing your clothes yourself you can keep your secrets, my child.” As Asgore goes to take his blanket from Toriel’s outstretched hand she holds it steady. “Isn’t that right, dear?” she quirks from underneath her raised eyebrow and tilted head that has her ear slipping off behind her shoulder, presenting her brusque smile more freely. As if her sassy demeanor needed any more clarity, Toriel balls her free hand into a confident fist and pushes it against her tucked hip. “Spilling the beans quite literally, my king?”

Oh he knows too well to not answer at all to that. Not. At. All! Instead, he disarms by stroking his oh so loving and beautiful and thoughtful and lovely wife and queen across the top of her head. Caressing her horns every so gently between his fingers. “Of course,” he says before kissing her on her forehead. “Of course, my dear.”

Toriel narrows her eyes one last time at her smiling husband acting the most oblivious he’s ever been. She reluctantly lets go of the blanket, which Asgore thanks her by nodding deeply. His warm smile stays until he’s completely turned around, where it melts into a deeply relieved sigh that almost bulges his eyes out of their sockets. He flexes a grimace at Aofil through his flowing beard and heads off towards the sofa.

“Yes, yes! Do sit down, please!” Aofil offers happily. “Make yourself comfortable.” They gotta take back some control here. They’re the host, after all. “Let me know if you want anything. Tea? Cake?”

“I’ll have a slice of cake, actually,” says Frisk with their arm raised over their head. “And speaking of that,” they add while massaging the tip of their horn, “how is your tail forming, Aofil?”

The question has all the monsters leaning forward in anticipation. Over their chair, sofa, out the kitchen window, and around the house corner. “Hey,” Undyne greets.

“Hey,” Aofil greets back.

“I BELIEVE IN YOU, AOFIL! YOUR TAIL WILL BE BEAUTIFUL!” Papyrus makes it very clear as his head pokes around the same corner just above Undyne and Alphys. “MK COULDN’T COME TODAY, BY THE WAY! SOMETHING ABOUT A CONFLICT OF INTEREST BETWEEN HIS FATHER AND HIS EMPLOYER THAT HE HAS TO ATTEND!”

Not sure if that information was totally necessary, but Aofil’s thankful for it still. Means they don’t have to scramble for another chair that they just now notices would be missing should MK also attend.

Right! Let’s see what Aofil’s diet has done for their magic. They’re a bit curious themselves to see how it’ll be, but they’re at the same hesitant as to the training that’ll come afterwards. That’s a bridge they’ll cross later though, for now they’ll close their eyes and focus.

Focus on the subtle heat that caresses inside them as they eat their magical cake. With each bite they’ve become more aware of it. They can predict where it’ll begin and end now, but now they’re gonna try and summon it without first luring it with magical treats. Make it grow without fertilizing. Have it form first in their chest, an oscillating intensity that’s similar to their heart beat, but more ethereal in nature. Almost like silent breaths inhaling and exhaling into another dimension. Aofil can’t feel what their soul is breathing, only that it does it. 

Time to move it.

Down their spine, with each of their vertebra tingling as this infinitely thin film travels curiously through their physical form. It collects at their lumbar, heating up and compacting into a whirling kaleidoscope of emotion that timidly massages their lower back.

Last time Aofil tried this they farted, and with all their friends and family around they have to make extra sure the emotion they’re using to form their tail isn’t that of anxiety and hesitation due to the fear of embarrassing themselves.

It’s a happy little tail they’re gonna create. A joyful appendage that’ll make everyone cheer. It’ll make Aofil proud. It’ll make them confident!

If Asriel can overcome, then so can they!

A breeze runs up the outside of Aofil’s back, and they turn around to see their shirt being pushed out by a protrusion underneath. Gentle and muffled electrical cracks are heard from within the fabric.

“Congratulations, Aofil,” wishes Asgore as he grabs Aofil’s shoulder from across their back. The comforting warmth and security has the crackling subsiding slightly. “You’ve conjured your first visible tail!”

The breeze pats more of Aofil’s bare skin as their shirt is lifted up by an eager, blue hand. They flinch against the cold, and Undyne utters a surprised “Woah!” as she cranes her head back from the red, glowing tail almost poking her in the eye. “Don’t make me completely blind, please.” She tucks Aofil’s shirt at the base of their newly-formed tail before standing up and patting them hard just below their neck. “Great job though, Aof!” she cheers. “Now we can get to refining it! You’ll be able to lean on it with all your weight before you know it!”

That’s...actually rather enticing, to be honest.

“And you’ll have huge spikes on it as well!” Undyne continues in her own little world. “Running down its spine as well as a morning star at the end of it! Ngaaaah! I! Can’t! Wait!”

Asgore is so kind as to move Aofil away from Undyne shaking with excitement and towards Frisk instead. The human nods, impressed. “Nice job, Aofil!” Their hand moves up to massage their horn again while they look down with cheeks beginning to blossom. “C-could you turn around and show it?”

Oh yeah, sure.

Aofil sways their hips around to present their tail to the rest of the Dreemurrs. 

“Oh, it’s red,” Frisk notices. “I thought it’d be...I don’t know actually which color I thought it would be, but not red. Suits you though. Matches your cheeks.” They extend their thumb and widen their smile. “Good job. Now I’m not the only human that knows magic any longer.”

“Not as good as your healing yet,” Aofil feels that they have to defend. While they’re ecstatic that their magic is actually visible they imagined it a bit bigger. Not big as in actually big, not yet anyways. However, they didn’t really imagine it to be the size of their thumb…

There’s this slight discomfort too, Aofil just notices. Tiny, just like their tail. Hopefully it won’t increase with their tail’s size.

“It’ll grow bigger,” Asgore comforts while tightening his large and fuzzy hand on Aofil’s shoulder. The squeeze has Aofil’s tail fading away though, and flushed away with the pathetic fart pressed out of them. Asgore apologizes profusely with his widened eyes before splitting his beard with a reassuring smile. “We all start somewhere, Aofil.” He swivels his beard and head towards his son sitting on the couch hoping that his father wouldn’t swivel around. “Right, Asriel?”

“That we do,” he answers distantly and musically as he drums his fingers on the leathery backrest his arms are outstretched on. “That we do,” he repeats to again try and make it sound like it’s too normal for him to give a second’s thought.

The way he rolls his wrists and materializes a pair of white and wicked daggers to show that it’s nothing to him isn’t really helping his case of none-caring. Same thing with him flipping the handle around to leave a flat plane of glistening rainbows in the daggers’ wake as they slice through the air that’s just as thick as Asriel’s care.

Honestly, he swears.

Almost audibly when, in his pretend absence, the sharp edge of one of his daggers slices through the leather with a surgical cut. The fresh ravine blooms with old stuffing that probably isn’t the most healthy considering the weathered yellow color of it. It has an immediate effect on Asriel, who’s daggers fade away instantly as his hands are thrown open. He lunges himself away from the cut with his eyes widened and his mouth bleating out a startled yelp.

Could also be that his unstable house of confidence was ripped in twine.

“Asriel. Dreemurr,” Toriel addresses while both inhaling a horrified gasp and exhaling a disciplinary scolding at the same time. 

Oh he is in trouble now.

“I d-didn’t mean to, mom!”

“First your sword getting stuck in a ceiling panel at school while you were juggling it, and now this!” 

Frisk takes a couple of precautionary jumps away from the sofa with their chair. They’re not gonna get caught in this crossfire anytime soon. Undyne and Papyrus are a bit more brave, or stupid, and they instead scoot their chairs along with Toriel’s heavy steps towards her son who in this moment’s reverted back to being a very small child as a defensive mechanism. The illusion doesn’t fool Toriel leaning over him and casting a very disappointed shadow over his white fur and brightly colored shirt now turned a cowering dark as he tucks his legs up over his chest and locks them closer to him with his muscular arms tensed until almost exploding.

“First off!”

Toriel’s arm raised to strengthen her point comes down as she glances over to her side to see Undyne leaning forward with a notebook and pen she’s swiped from Alphys judging by the wide variety of twee stickers on it. Papyrus’ is ready with his own pen to take notes on the same piece of paper, squatting next to Undyne just as eagerly.

“We’ll do this later,” Toriel remarks with her voice returned to her normal subdued state. The speed in which she can just turn on a pebble is frightening. Queen of Patience with one hand, and an axe in the other hand still dripping with blood.

Or pie filling.

“I’ll just sew it back up,” Aofil offers to again try and regain some control as a host. “No biggie.”

The large, pink, and flowery shirt moving in front of them as a shield has Aofil realizing that perhaps it wasn’t the best thing to say in this moment. “How about that tea?” Asgore reminds with a slight tilt of his beard and head. His smile is again disarming, but his one eye looking at Aofil screams loudly for them to obey for their own health. “I’m sure we’re all yearning for some right now, yes?” he asks the rest of the gentry sitting with various amounts of butt-percentage left on their seat. 

“Oh, yes.” Aofil begins making their way around Asgore who turns his body along to keep himself between them and Toriel. A valiant king to protect his people from any danger, even if it’s from the Queen. Muffin doesn’t even take the opportunity to sprint outside once Aofil opens the patio door to enter.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

“C-c-could I r-read y-your n-newspaper w-while I w-wait, A-Aofil?” Alphys wonders in an ill attempt to help with bringing the mood back up. Her awkward and nasal voice has the air clearing out though, but in the way she wanted. Instead of the monsters going back to their business, they’re all instead watching and hearing the front page of the paper she’s waving to show Aofil rip off with a sound very similarly to how the leather Asriel cut up sounded. They all shake their head in unison, but it’s enough for the mood to shift back to how it was before.

They’re all thanking Alphys for being herself, but unfortunately they can’t say it to her, and she wrings the paper in her hand until it resembles a bungled-up shirt in desperate need of ironing. She realizes her actions a bit too late for her wringing not to leave any permanent damage to the pages, as she un-bungles the paper and begins reading out loud.

“N-number t-three o-on t-the list is T-Tylior...” Even after having cleared her throat it’s still grating on her voice to read out loud, and she continues with the rest in silence.

Tylior made it to number three then. Good for him. Aofil’s quite curios as to what Lister has written about him. They’re not sure if Tylior rushed off to grab Lister at the end of the birthday party to relay the good news about the Royals offering to assist with his wedding. The interview Frisk and Aofil had did take up quite a while, and afterwards it was the official ceremony and all that, so it’s debatable if Lister even had time for a revision interview after that.

“Taste this.”

Aofil looks up from their thinking, “What?” and gets greeted by a hanging drop of dough pushed into their mouth. They recoil back from Muffet’s finger, but she pushes it in further instead so that the dough doesn’t droop out Aofil’s mouth.

“How would you describe the sourness?” she asks as her wet finger returns to waiting impatiently at her hips along with the rest of its sisters. “Fresh? Artificial? Lemon? Orange? Ripe?”

Each suggestion changes which flavor Aofil thinks that they’re tasting. They put up their palm, but it gets swatted down immediately.

“I have the over pre-heated and ready to go, any more and it’ll heat up the stone bottom and give too hard a crust. How sour is it?” Muffet repeats while leaning forwards while two of her hands wipe off some loose flour on her novelty apron. It’s a bit distracting with her wearing it, to be honest. Especially with her pouting face contrasting with the comical indecency displayed on it. Her thinking of buying aprons with a more...human...motif was sound in theory to smooth out any surprise from seeing a monster behind the cafe counter, but perhaps the attention she got from it wasn’t what she thought it would be.

“Many humans have begun asking for pastries that are lower down in the display case ever since I bought and started using these aprons,” she explained last week as she straightened the black maid skirt on the same novelty apron she’s wearing now. “So that’s why I’ve moved the more expensive pastries further down. Fuhuhuhu~~”

“Even the cleavage of...I mean slices of spider-cake down there?” Aofil understandably blurted out in response in between shaky sips from their spider-webbed cup.

“Oh no, those are too moist.”

The inside of Aofil’s lunges were then coated in hot tea that was very painful to cough out. Despite that though, suddenly the uncooked dough in Aofil’s mouth starts tasting sorta sweet for some strange reason as they remember.

“Well?” Muffet presses further while wiping off some more flour on the exposed legs drawn on her apron. There’s a bit more a fair ways up, two cups worth, but for the time being Aofil’s not gonna mention that. It’s for the better in this situation. She wants an answer, after all.

Now that Muffet’s raised her voice and narrowed her eyes hard at Aofil they’ve become more attentive to the taste sloshing around in their mouth. It’s sour, definitely. Not a pleasant sour, though. “It’s kinda like...” They roll the last of the melted dough around in their mouth one more time to really get the taste right. “It’s kinda like the sour lemon you get from those cheap teas.”

The five hard eyes move across the kitchen, carving like a horizontal egg-slicer as it travels out the kitchen window towards Toriel retrieving some pillows out of her basket. “So much for the pure human flavoring.” Her fangs begin to twitch along with her upper lip. “Queen Bitter ruining my batch,” she mutters quietly.

“Sorry?”

“Oh nothing~~” Muffet cheers before leaning over on one leg and giving Aofil a cute little kiss on their cheek. “I’m just gonna put this batch into the oven and then I’ll join you outside. Did our guests want some tea, by the way?”

Aofil is forced to touch their cheek to understand that it just happened. “Y-yeah,” they nod, still a bit confused. “Some tea would be nice. Cake too, Frisk asked for.”

“The batch should be ready once the thunderstorm’s passed by,” Muffet adds with another smile and loving chitter. “Toriel should have the first bite though, I feel.”

“Why?” Aofil says in reflex.

“Oh, no reason~~”

The way her voice flutters up like that has Aofil thinking that she means a bit more than what she’s actually saying. The undertone’s quickly drowned out by her charming humming afterwards. The dimples on her chin dance in the same rhythm her hips and legs are, further shunting down the undertone down Aofil’s priorities.

Why again were they slightly worried just a second ago?

Oh well. Can’t have been important.

They return outside humming the same melody their spider does.

“E-excuse m-me, A-Aofil?” Alphys interrupts hesitantly with her hand opening and closing as the tide of her confidence ebbs and flows to and from her curling fingers. “Y-you know t-this human, r-right? T-Tylior?”

“Tyl? Yes, I know him. What does Mister Lister say about him?”

“O-only g-good things,” Alphys hurriedly prefaces. “It’s j-just...well...t-there’s a couple of l-lines here a-about h-his soulmate, S-Sevoltne.”

“Yes?”

“W-w-well,” Alphys hunkers down away from the opened kitchen window where Muffet’s humming can be heard. Aofil, as a courteous host, bends their back forward “S-Sevoltne’s a h-health inspect-tor!”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Ah!” Alphys falls back into her chair again while brushing off her forehead. “Good. Good.” The moisture wiped off comes back a second later, as a drop of rain crashes on her yellow head. She looks up at the gray cloud above her, and another drop hits her on her glasses. She flails with her arms, and throws the newspaper up and away from her. 

Before it can hit the ground it’s soaked by a passing shower that leaves the white concrete ground the same dark as the clouds that were once in the distance. It’s above them now.

It’s time.

The slushy remains of the newspaper lands next to Asriel with an ungraceful splat. He bends over to pick it up with his claws at its failing spine. “Where do you want this?” he asks Aofil who’s still dazed by the speed and intensity of the recent cloudburst.

After rustling the drops out of their hair with their monster arm, realizing, and then picking out the strands of beige fur that got stuck, Aofil nods towards their house. “Just put it in the trash.”

Asriel squeezes past Muffet exiting with a jaunty hum to her lips. It stops for a moment as she catches a brief glimpse of Sans sitting in her chair, but then continues when he made the right call of shortcutting over to his own assigned chair. 

As the lid of the trashcan opens, and Asriel moves to dispose of what’s left of the melting ink and paper, he catches a dry spot that survived the shower.

‘The penultimate and ultimate on my penned list goes to two humans that are as much monsters as they’re humans. While they’ve approached their proximity to their friends and family from two different roads, they both stand at the end of it transformed. Both physically and metaphysically. I’m tempted to give them both the number one spot, but I’ve not become monster enough myself to consider that currently. I do want to preface this because, for lack of a better word, because there really isn’t one, there’s something truly magical about these two humans. One, as we all know, saved the monster from the Barrier, and has been instrumental, if not the entire symphony, in bringing understanding and companionship between humans and monsters. A child that’s grown up on the line between monster and human, and whom now embodies that in both form and soul. I suspect that in the future horns will come to symbolize not evil, but good instead. This new chapter will have its own legends and stories for our collaborative future, and as the line begins blurring as to if monsters and humans even were separated in the first place outside the history books, the horns adorned by the Royal Family will come to represent determination for a brighter future filled with hope and love.’

“You coming, Asriel? We’re hearing rumbling outside.”

No, not yet.

Carefully, the most he’s been his entire life, Asriel gently pulls apart the stuck pages to continue reading.

‘This future hasn’t been smooth sailing though to get to. There’s been a lot of gravel our boat’s been through, and almost another mountain that we luckily managed to evade. Some of us though have been very sea-sick along the journey, and abandoned ship due to their own health and psyche. Feeling the winds of change in your neck and having it remind you constantly of the sails you’ve blistered your hands trying to keep opened is a difficult sensation to ignore when all around you it’s coaxing you to return where you belong. The road back is long, and traveling it is difficult when you’re used to a different speed. It takes a lot to not only catch up with the ship, but to also accept that you made a mistake jumping off it in the first place. To understand that you needed the respite, but also that you needed to get back. Now it’s sailing even faster and smoother because of your efforts, and so it stands that the ship’s given a piece of itself to you as thanks. Part of the crew, part of the ship. Together into the future becoming brighter each minute.’

“Asriel? How are you? I think he needs some of your healing, Frisk.”

‘These two humans are an inspiration to us all. Both human and monster alike. One to show how just a single person can change the world, and another to show that accepting that others love and care for you will better all involved. Before I share with you my interview of the two humans I will again preface the magic I felt with the two. Hope. That’s what I felt. Hope that practically radiated off of the two humans stroked with monster. This hope I now share with you, dear reader, and implore you to share further. If you get a chance to, hug these two humans. They’ve both earned it.’

Asriel tilts his chin up to these two humans looking over his squatted stance. Before they can again repeat their question, he throws his arms around them, and squeezes them close to him. “Thank you.”

Frisk and Aofil look at each other behind his neck and underneath each respective ears of the hugging Boss Monster. “Yeah, sure,” Frisk thanks in return. “No problem?” Aofil’s got no clue either.

“Hey!” Undyne interrupts by thrusting her head through the opened kitchen window. “We just saw a-” Her excited shouting is silenced by a mighty roar in the distance, and she turns her head around, annoyed. “Dammit! I missed it!” She throws three cyan tubes into the kitchen. “Here’s your umbrellas! Now get out here and enjoy the storm with us!” Her neck and hair turns bright-white as another thunder strikes far away, and she ducks out of it laughing maniacally. “Awesome!”

With a gingerly throw, Asriel finally discards the sludge that was previously the newspaper into the trashcan finally. The rest is illegible, destroyed by the rain. “Good with words, that Lister.”

Aofil walks over to pick up the magical umbrellas. “Yup,” they shoot over their shoulder before tossing an umbrella Frisk’s way over it as well. “Surprised me.”

Asriel catches the second umbrella tossed across the kitchen. “Same here.”

“Enough to hug us though?” wonders Frisk with their umbrella pointed against their monster brother. “I doubt that.”

Another flash, followed by a roaring rumble, followed by a roaring Undyne.

“We should join the others,” Aofil suggests as they close the kitchen window so that it doesn’t rain in. “I promised you all this a long time ago, so you’re not gonna miss any more lest I feel that I didn’t keep it properly.”

Outside it’s pouring like Waterfall, but with dry blankets and sizzling umbrellas it’s only cozy. A third flash appears, and this time everyone’s there to react to it.

To share with it.

Asriel takes his place between his parents, and Frisk squeezes themselves next to him and Asgore. Aofil sits down next to their spider, who leans over with a pleased chittering. 

Friends.

Family.

All truly…

“Did you flip the pastries like I asked you to, Aofil?”

…

“...No.”

...Magical.


	181. The next generation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Art by PolarisSketches.](https://polarissketches.tumblr.com/post/186123036096/polarissketches-commission-for)

“Am I really gonna do this?”

The spider-adorned pen dances between a skinny index and long finger as an exhale fills the solemn room with a thoughtful sigh. The wooden chair creaks as the weight on it is shifted to the legs at its back. A pair of half-tired eyes stare at the thought that was just breathed out. Despite not seeing it at all, it is as unclear as it gets. 

Who would read it?

All the things that would be actually interesting to read Aofil can’t actually write. They’re gonna have to make it the truth for themselves too if they decide to go on with publishing it. Maybe they should’ve planned ahead a bit for this. So many things that are vague, even to them. Many pivoting happenings are bleeding together. May so be that it is that haunting deja vu making a ghostly jab at their memories, because as they think back to it it’s like trying to listen to a radio playing two different stations at the same time. A lot of static between the stations to boot.

And that’s not even getting started with those adventures inside their dying mind.

The edge of the pen stops just before it touches the wooden desk, just above some fresh claw marks from Muffin not realizing that he’s too big to sit on the desk while Aofil’s using it for the second time today. He’s been a bit too quiet underneath Aofil’s desk, but there’s yet to be any messenger spiders coming out of the woodwork about the oven he was supposed to guard, so he can keep on sleeping for now.

Aofil could sniff out burnt pastry from tailwind down a hurricane, so Muffin doesn’t really need to guard close by the oven. Besides, he makes for an excellent footrest. His heavy breathing gives Aofil’s calves some well needed stretching, and the warmth from his body travels along the tender muscles to heat up even more before spreading comfortably throughout Aofil. Muffin’s fast asleep, the fastest he’s ever been in his entire life.

Do spider monsters dream of magical sheep?

The way he’s drooling would suggest so, but they way he’s sighing would suggest something completely different. There’s a melancholy undertone to it, in the same way Papyrus’ apple spaghetti sauce has an undertone of a jarring aftertaste.

“IT’S NOT JARRING! IT’S FRESHLY PICKED FROM YOUR APPLE TREE, AOFIL!”

That they are very much aware off. That he gets inside help from Aofil’s household they’re also very much aware off, but that card they’re saving. There will come a time where Aofil’s biding will pay off. They’re patient, especially with this comforting footrest under their desk.

Can’t really blame Muffin for missing his Muffet. She’s been gone for more than a month now. Two, almost. Last time she was this estranged from Muffin was when Frisk had their eighteenth birthday, which was…

Aofil brushes away some gray hair falling down over their eyes as their brow furrows at the frankly ridiculous amount of years that have passed. A handful would’ve been too many, and it’s almost filled up all of Muffet’s hands now.

Well, not really, but still, it’s been a while now.

The white on their hair turns a deep pink as the tip of their shimmering tail comes up to try and scratch out the thought. It does naught more than make Aofil conscious that they’re sitting in a chair bought before they learned how to conjure their tail.

Before Frisk’s eighteenth birthday which was…

The thick, magical tail lands back on the floor with a tired and hollow thud. The impact ripples through the glass-like magic, causing subtle sparks and streaks of red lightning along the traveling impact into Aofil’s physical form.

It’s a good thing Undyne isn’t here to see the sparks, otherwise she’d insist yet again that Aofil should try and improve their magic since they’re getting sloppy. For as much as Aofil would love to see her smile as widely as she did when Alphys concluded that Frisk and Aofil could potentially use magic, the strain that was put on them was something Aofil never could imagine feeling. The meditation they did to figure it out was one thing, but actually getting it to manifest was another.

It didn’t result in muscle soreness, but a soreness in the way they think and feel. Emotional strain, but not in the way they express it. The mere act of its first full conception felt like the echoing pain from a flu, but mental. It didn’t propagate in their bones and physical heart, but in their aura and magical heart. Like the panic one gets when a wayward embarrassing thought kicks the door in and screams aloud. That same sense of foreboding, but painfully, and throughout their soul’s very being, and not their body’s very being. Making it small was one thing, but a full length?

“You’re exercising a muscle you’ve never exercised before. Like when we ran down Mt. Ebott the first time we met, Aof! And I’m just as excited about training you untrained humans as I am now! I’m not gonna stop until you can grow your tail a mile long, Aofil! You’ll need to keep up with the younger and more-accustomed-to-magic Frisk too, so do plenty of soul stretching. I don’t want you getting soul soreness until I tell you to! Ngahahaha!”

Can’t get everything you ask for, Undyne. It wasn’t as bad as she’d think it’d be though, Aofil could keep up somewhat with Frisk, and with them getting better and better with their healing Aofil could keep up longer and longer, so that turned out very good.

The reason why Aofil could keep up at the beginning though wasn’t really good. They already knew about emotional soreness and drainage before Undyne commenced her training. Aofil had experience with it back when…

They breathe out as they feel their tail starts to fade from them. “Breathe out the memories, and keep focus.”

The years between leaving Ebott and coming back to the Monster City was a constant sprint in their life’s marathon. The monsters they thought they had to run away from kept coming closer and closer despite them quickening their pace. Just kept on straining and straining until they eventually hit the wall.

Aofil flexes their hand open before shaking it off.

They hit the wall alright.

Literally.

They don’t let it close fully again, and instead stare at it. They focus both their eyes and thoughts into the white center of their palm. On the spiral that their fur grows out of, that’s where they’ll try and ignite. Their neck tenses as the flow of emotions begin traveling down their head and shoulders out their arm, with a surging feeling from their chest acting as a catalyst. Along their furred arm it mixes together the same way it does at their tailbone when they conjure their tail, all the way out to the tip of their clawed fingers, collecting at the center of their palm. It begins heating up, but with no flame visible. Aofil throws their hand open while tensing their entire arm, but there’s not even a puff or slight orange hue visible on their hand.

Good.

They’re not stressed enough by the memories to force their magic into something else. They gotta remind themselves from time to time that they’ve moved past those years, and this is the most efficient way. Can’t really spell it out more clearly than not being able to make a spell out of it. 

Asgore said it best.

“Keep a fire inside your soul instead of in your hand, Aofil. That’s where it belongs for you. Wielding it underneath the banner of fear will only make you dread it. Monsters have dealt with destructive magic for long, we’ve had it for generations. We can help, but we also know from where those thoughts of yours stem from, and that we can’t help you with even if we were human. Your magic is an extension of who you are, and summoning it from the darkest corners of your soul will inevitably make that extension your core. Your extension will begin persuading you that it is who you are inside. After all, why else would you have that magic if it wasn’t what you really feel? I know that. I’m far too familiar with it. We will help you with everything we can to make sure it doesn’t happen to you.”

How right he was frightened Aofil, but they knew Asgore meant nothing but help from his lecture. Had it been another life Aofil might’ve been able to have both fire and tail, but in this they can’t. They don’t weep over it though, and instead they use it to remind themselves where the ground is so that they can put their feet back on it.

“I used mine under the banner I raised out of hatred. It led me to not be able see past the flames I summoned in the name of justice to cloud its nature from myself. So many years I spent in its shadow blinded with my soul burning from within. I still see the outline of the king I was back then when it flares up in my hand today. It burns with an intensity that only a misled king could muster. Today though I see Toriel behind it smiling at me through the flames. I see Asriel too, and I see Frisk. I see you too as well, Aofil. One day the old king will no longer be the spark in my hand. It will only be my family and friends that fuel my fire. On that day I will cry. I will let the tears fizzle against the flames, and the old king that gripped his trident with murderous intent will only be a set of fading fingerprints that’ll disappear more and more with each drop of tear hitting them.”

What a good day for rain that was.

“You focus on making your tail stronger and more splendid than anything imaginable, Aofil. The extension of you is birthed from family and friends, and that’s what it represents to you. Make it shine, Aofil, and rest on it like you would the monsters around you when you’re tired.”

With a respectful smile Aofil returns their palm underneath their chin for support as they reminisce the King’s teachings. His wide smile peeking through his beard with such pride when Aofil understood and nodded.

“And don’t let Tori tell you anything about those spikes. I think you should keep them.”

Toriel didn’t have enough sway to convince Aofil otherwise about the spikes, no. Although, she didn’t even try to in the first place, so Aofil doesn’t have any hard proof of that. The pair of purple socks they’re wearing at the moment with the Deltarune sewn into might actually be proof that she does have sway enough to sweep their feet, at least with her knitting. She’d never do it, obviously. Quite the opposite.

“It’s cold and lonely when you shut others out of your heart. Out of your soul. You can appoint yourself the caretaker, but that care you can only bestow upon others, and not yourself. You have to let others help you care for yourself. Have others to be ready to stand up against you when you’re using your magic in ways that hurt rather than protect. Even if you yourself think it’s to protect, others will see it as hurting. Once you give your emotions outwards you’re blinded by them. You can’t change it without someone outside your aura that you’re drowning inside telling you it is wrong. Just like how it’s easy to slip your tongue it is easy to slip your intent. Especially when you feel like you’re left without any other choice.”

Never has Aofil been deafened by such silence as when Toriel halted her knitting that far-off day.

“However, you’re not to fear your magic, Aofil. I won’t allow it. You’re not to fear that it might go wrong, because that’ll color your magic too. You are to be aware of the possibility though, and always keep one finger ready to listen when both your hands are talking. A certain human made me realize that when they refused to let me protect them. Because they saw that I wasn’t… Do not impose on others what you believe, because that extends into your magic, and that extends into your intention with that magic. I...I didn’t want to protect Frisk. I wanted to make them listen to me by any means necessary. Protecting them was the step after, but not what made me summon my flames. Understand, Aofil?”

They’ve tried their damnedest to…

“It gets easier, I promise, Aofil. Talking about it sounds complicated since it’s the very nature of how magic is formed by us monsters. It’s emotion, and emotion is hard to describe. You can describe what you feel. You can describe why you feel. Describing how you feel is harder. It’s quantifying and rigidly examining something that flows throughout us monsters more than blood flows through you humans. Now it partly flows through you as well now, Aofil. In the same way your body radiates heat from your blood and flesh, so does our bodies radiate an aura from our emotions and magic. An equivalent to you humans would maybe be trying to explain what type of hairstyle your red blood cells would prefer. What types of hats that are in fashion for them this season. It may sound strange to you the thought of applying emotion to something you only understand through science, but it’s the same as applying science to something we only understand as emotion.”

Their damnedest…

“I tell you all of this not to deter you, Aofil, but to help you understand what you are now. What Frisk and you are now. You’re magical, and that you can’t describe with science. You will have to trust your emotions on this, and make sure that your emotions understand you with enough clarity that your magic is summoned to help, and not to hurt. Don’t be afraid to ask questions like these, Aofil, because I learn a lot from them trying to answer.”

They were persuaded later in their life, yes, but from someone they could never turn down even if she asked for the moon.

Their heart flutters at the memory, but despite that, their fur-covered hand still feels warm to the touch. A very comforting warm. If that’s all that Aofil can muster, then fair enough. It’s like cozening underneath a freshly laundered and dried duvet so Aofil doesn’t really have anything to complain about. They won’t be able to summon any flames from this, not in a thousand years.

Almost as long as Frisk’s eighteen-

Stop!

No more of those heinous thoughts. Aofil’s not gonna allow reality to stick with them! Never!

They refuse!

Muffin awakes from his slumber by the sound of wood colliding. Unaware that it was Aofil’s hand defiantly slamming down, he rolls out from underneath the desk with his tongue panting excitedly at the door now that Muffet’s finally…

She’s not here...still…

“I know, Muffin. I know,” Aofil comforts to their spider pet. “I miss her too.” They pat his sobbing head with their furred arm, but it’s not enough. With his tongue between his legs, Muffin returns underneath the desk. Aofil will have to have their legs and feet cold for a little while until he falls asleep again.

With Muffet away on her royal business the bed’s been rather cold as well. Aofil’s gotten used to both a cover of down and a cover of spider-monster aura around them as they fall asleep. Spider arms too when Muffin’s not squeezing himself between Aofil and Muffet in the same way one squeezes a loaf of bread through a needle’s eye.

She doesn’t know how to heal with her magic, but she knows ever so much how to heal with her soul. 

Oh how Aofil misses her.

They can almost hear her coming up the stairs right now and closing in towards the door Muffin thought was just opened.

And it opens just as Aofil realizes that the sound came from outside their head, not inside it.

“Writing your memoirs?” comes an amused question from behind.

Aofil exhales an embarrassed cough.

“Isn’t it a bit too early for you to do that?” the soft, yet commanding voice continues.

With a forearm on their chair’s backrest, Aofil turns around to meet their uninvited guest. Muffin too, until he sees that it isn’t Muffet. Again. “I’m not planning on doing anything world changing again, if that’s what you’re asking. I was too old even when that happened the first time around.”

The large figure invites himself into the room, shining it up with his fur and attire rather than darkening it with his impressive shadow.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure,” Aofil asks while bowing their head, “King Asriel?”

He stops as the word reach his ornately dressed form. The purple cloth flows as if gently blown, and the distinct rattle of his large and golden decorative pauldrons that has him standing sideways in the door frame shake like cutlery dumped into a metal sink. His bearded lips pull back to reveal a shocked smile. “Not until tomorrow, Aofil.” He shakes the shock off before clearing his throat. “I just-” The too low a door frame halts his advance as the tip of his mighty horns clonk at the wood. With a quick hunker he manages to avoid any further scraping that would leave any permanent marks.

“Muffet’s already on her way with the final delivery of the bakery,” Aofil explains after stifling a snicker at the clumsy entrance. “It’s only been now really that I’ve had the time to sit down with the pen in my hand. I haven’t even started, really. Just been sitting here tapping it against the desk.” They wet their finger and rub away the large dot of ink their tapping has produced on their desk. “Tapping for a long time, that is.”

“No, not that,” Asriel answers as his expression mellows out into an unclear glance off to his side. He takes a quiet and gloomy inhale through his nose before mustering up the strength to look back at Aofil. Even with the courage he’s able to muster, he still has to scratch his scruffy cheek with a shaky claw. A black ripple amid a field of thick, white fur. Even denser than what Aofil has on their arm. Asriel’s been growing it out willingly.

It looks good on him. The sturdy thickness very much reminds of his father. The color however, is from Toriel. Somewhere between white as snow and milk. Almost creamy, actually.

Could that be because of Aofil’s influence?

Nah, they’re not gonna take credit for that, even if it’s true.

“I...” He swallows, and waits for a couple of seconds for the emotional blockage to fully dislodge from his throat. “I want to see Chara’s room.”

Aofil puts down their pen before they allow themselves to react, otherwise they’d drop it. Their shimmering red tail comes up as a question mark behind them. “You wanna see Chara’s room?” they repeat to help them take it in. Asriel’s not even greeted Aofil properly. That’s not like him. Usually they’re hugging as family does after a long time. This must be serious then if he’s foregoing it and addressing his reason to visit directly. Aofil turns their chair fully so that they can lean forward with all their attention available to the visiting prince.

“We promised each other we’d sit together on the throne,” Asriel begins explaining with his voice distant and his eyes even more so. There’s a glaze to them, a thin veil of moisture held back desperately. “I just feel that I have to say that I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep that promise. Tomorrow’s the day, so now is the last time I can tell them that I’m sorry that… That I...” His words trail off like a road bending below the horizon’s curvature. Distant and hidden, but it’s where it’s been led.

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but isn’t Chara buried in the Underground?” Aofil can’t help themselves from asking. They feel extremely uncomfortable forming their question that way, so they can’t imagine how Asriel’s feeling hearing it, even less having to answer it. Still, both their heart and their soul urges them to ask, but not to push. 

“They are,” is answered through a clogged choke. “I’ve already told them there. Already said that I’m sorry that I can’t fulfill the promise. That at least I could show them how I would look.” With his sweeping arms he presents his royal outfit with a smile, but it’s just as much an attire as his clothes are. His Royal Regalia, like the monster monarch he is. There’s no smile big enough to mask the heavy somberness in his aura pushing down like the air before a thunderstorm. “They were so excited to see me wear this. They were so excited to be dressed the same and...” His lips stretches further into a pained smile while he inhales through his gritted teeth. “I also want to say that I’m sorry to who they were before they fell down.”

Aofil bites down on their tongue before ‘Me?’ slips out. It’s not completely out of the question that Asriel would think that way, but it would be incredibly wrong of Aofil to acknowledge that at this moment.

“Their monster part I’ve said goodbye to, and now I’d like to say goodbye to their human part.”

Of course. You didn’t have to explain a single thing, Asriel. You just had to ask. Nothing more.

“Our parents rebuilt the upstairs after Chara fell.” Aofil pushes themselves up using their tail as leverage. “Knock on the wall next to you.”

Asriel’s knuckles carefully tap on it a couple of times. “Hollow?” he guesses after hearing his knock echo inside the wall.

“The other room was where the two of us slept.” Aofil lifts their hand to show Asriel that he has their permission. “I think there’s more appropriate than this part of our joint room.”

“Thank you,” Asriel says with a tear finally forming in his eye. He’s still using all his strength to hold his emotions, and considering how he’s kept his body’s tone despite his growth Aofil’s beginning to feel anxious of the bursting dam he’s holding back. It can’t be healthy to have this much on his shoulders. “You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

Aofil would, but they won’t. They can sense he needs to do this on his own. They will follow Asriel into the other room after putting away their notebook however. On any other day it’s a guestroom, but today it’s to return to what it was in the beginning. Aofil hasn’t paid Chara any mind for years now, but standing here now with Asriel, it’s like they’re a child again. Like they have a twin who’s just out at the moment picking apples and that Aofil’s showing their twin’s best friend their house for the first time and…

Asriel offers an embroidered handkerchief. “Here.”

Aofil takes it with a scoff. “Just came rushing back to me,” they explain with another stuffed chuckle while they dot the purple fabric underneath their watering eyes. “And I don’t even remember them.” Their nose is in dire need of evacuation, but they’ll do that with some paper tissues later. No reason to get mucus all over this nice handkerchief. “Hit me like a truck all of a sudden.”

The longest arm on the spider-clock hanging on the opposite wall manages almost a full rotation before Asriel can muster up an answer. “Yeah.” And even that’s almost inaudible. It could be that he didn’t even say it, just projected it out his aura. The way he shakily accepts back the handkerchief from Aofil is worse than when Aofil’s handing back a test to a student who didn’t study for it.

It’s really scary seeing someone so grand and kingly on the verge of collapsing. He could barely even utter his last word, and yet he made sure to give Aofil a handkerchief so that they could wipe their eyes. He’ll make for a fantastic king, but for now he’s as much as a child as he was when Chara was still alive. Toriel would never leave his side ever again if she saw how his entire form is quaking like an aspen leaf inside a hurricane. Had he not been standing on a girdle the whole house would’ve shaken along with him. He’s really holding it in though, so Aofil should leave him alone to grief. They point to where they put in the second guest bed last year. “That bed is where Chara would be sleeping. It’s where the drag is the least draggy apart from where I slept before with them, so I put it there when we made this the guestroom,” Aofil tells quietly while whirling their hand through the air. If they speak any louder Asriel’s dam will burst. “Would’ve been the same situation without the wall too.”

They begin to turn, but a large and fuzzy hand grabs their shoulder ever so gently and ever so robust. They have no idea how to react to it.

“Stay, Aofil.”

And neither to that.

“Please.”

There’s more want in the timid squeeze Asriel puts on Aofil’s shoulder than anything they’ve ever felt before. Same with the quivers that follow from his large fingers. The softness of his fur does nothing to hide how hard this is for him. Thing is though that he has to face this himself. It’s not for Aofil to share. It’s between him and Chara. Asriel thinks he wants Aofil here, but he can’t. He needs to grief alone. That Aofil knows from experience.

Too much experience.

The time will come when Asriel can grieve with company beside him. He’ll get past this, but he’s the one that has to face his sorrow alone first when it comes to this. Aofil will be close by so that he can compose himself afterwards. “This is for you and Chara, Azzy.” Aofil puts their human hand over Asriel’s. “Just the two of you,” they tell to his glimmering eyes. “I’ll be downstairs packing. Take your time, kid.”

“You were their twin, Aofil,” Asriel protests with his eyes doused in tears. He’s still holding it in for Aofil’s sake, and that they don’t want him to do. With a firm push they slink their shoulder out of his grasp, and hold their gaze against the waves blinked out of him. The drops falling from his chiseled jaw crash against the floor louder than drops from the faucet left slightly open in the dead of night. This sound Aofil will do something about instead of trying to ignore it.

“But you were their best friend. You were more family to them than I was. We just share genes, but you and Chara shared something much more.” Now it’s Aofil’s turn to place their hand on Asriel’s shoulder, which they have to push themselves up a bit on their toes and tail with to reach naturally. “And like you said, you’re not king yet. I don’t have to obey you just yet.” They again push off from him, but this time with a slight chuckle that Asriel mirrors.

“Heh heh heh.”

“Come, Muffin,” Aofil commands to their pet as they head down the stairs. “Let’s leave the Prince alone for a bit.” The laughter behind them is as thin as paper. He’ll succumb any second now to the pressure built up.

“Heh...heh...heh...”

And there it turns. 

Laughter into crying. Chuckling into sobs. The sound of Asriel’s form collapsing on his knees rocks the entire house. The color inside turns a somber blue despite the bright midday sun outside shining in through all the windows that Aofil will have to close before they leave. The held-back wails rush throughout the silence, overwhelming it like a mighty and forceful river. Aofil almost has to brace themselves as it hits their aura. Damn, his soul has grown something fierce these last years. He’s surely passed his father by now. He’ll make for such a fantastic king with a monster soul...half the strength of a human soul? Aofil doesn’t know exactly the ratio, but it’s enough to wipe away any doubt about Asriel taking over from his father.

That’s for tomorrow though. Today they’ll let him cry himself out. Asriel needs it. He needs it to never again look upon the throne he’s about to inherit and feel that it is empty despite him sitting in it. Aofil can’t do much for the actual coronation, but they can allow the to-be king to grief for as long as he likes before he’s off to claim it for the future.

“Cry, Asriel,” Aofil tells the weeping Boss Monster from down the stairs. They wished they could face him, but they shouldn’t risk their own aura mixing in with his. “You’ve done more than enough to deserve it.” All they can do is to turn their head up towards the ceiling to let someone else know. “And watch over him on the throne, Chara. That’s what best friends do, after all.”

//

“You got some water?”

Singe Aofil’s soul…

“That bad, huh?”

His voice…

“Sorry if I was a bit too loud there.”

No, no, no! Don’t apologize! “Water, there.” Aofil points over to their faucet. They have to swallow themselves seeing how Asriel’s massaging his throat. There’s more gravel in his voice than on Mettaton’s restaurant car park! “Glasses just above.”

“Thanks.”

No again! Don’t speak. Drink, please. Drink yourself liquid, Prince. Half of Monster City’s must’ve heard him cry. He has to replenish himself before his throat turns to dust. Aofil’s not gotten a single thing packed. They haven’t even gotten their bag out to begin. All they’ve been able to do is sit in silence with Muffin in their lap for both his and Aofil’s comfort. So much so that Aofil doesn’t need a change of clothes after having Muffin in their lap for so long. There’s not a single drop of spider-saliva on them. Muffin’s not been able to drool anything. He’s just been listening.

Listening and focusing on each rugged inhale that the trees outside bent their crowns over to bow towards the grieving Prince soon to be King. Bowed to offer their fresh air so that he could cry his fullest. It’s rushed past Aofil and their pet like a storm, whistling up the stairs to aid Asriel’s wailing. His cry then soaked into the wooden material around him. They couldn’t shake enough at his lament for his best friend. There isn’t a material in the world capable of resonating with his mourning. The wood could only soak it up, nothing else. Years upon years of longing and heartache now manifests in the very planks of Aofil’s house.

Good thing they’re leaving for a while so that it can air out in peace.

The same peace Asriel’s found, hopefully.

“I’ll turn the oven off for you, Aofil. The cake seems done by now.”

DON’T SPEAK DAMMIT!

“S...sorry.”

Finally he begins drinking, and it’s not until his fifth emptied glass that he dares breathe in again. He does so unlike what he’s done this last half hour though. Instead of his breath falling heavy down below, it flutters out through the opened kitchen window and up towards the sun on weightless wings. He leans his head back a bit so that his muzzle is completely covered in the warming rays from outside. Even the sun tries to comfort him and caress his cheek warmly and motherly. Asriel’s closed eyes are tranquil, and his following inhale even more.

It’s just as peaceful it is looking at him now as it was scary looking at him before. His shining smile radiates the same caressing warmth as the sun he’s indulging himself in. “Forgive me, Chara,” he speaks carefully, barely moving his lips while his word weakly trickle out of his quivering lips. After a second slowly passes he straightens his expression determinedly, and lets it mellow out into a slight tug that’s jut enough so that a fang can peek from underneath his upper lip and rest gently outside his lower. “I promise I’ll rule for the two of us.”

You’ll keep that one, Asriel. That Aofil knows from both their halves. Complete and fully. Mind and soul. “And you watch over him from where you are, Chara,” Aofil adds under their breath. Not for the Prince’s ears, but for their twin’s. If their parents can hear them, then so can Chara. “Keep your brother safe against the Surface you promised him from the rainbow which your soul has joined within.”

The sixth filled glass touches Asriel’s lips like morning dew touches the velvet of a Golden Flower’s leaf. Ever so softly and with the sunshine exploding its radiance inside the liquid.

The metaphor turns literal as the water explodes out of Asriel’s mouth like the edge of Undyne’s conjured scythe upon a defiant stem of a weed in her backyard.

“Asriel!” Aofil shouts as the ornate Boss Monster bends over their sink with his hands grasping the metal lip with hurry. Muffin’s many legs jerk in every direction possible as he jumps out of his solemn curl inside Aofil’s lap. “What happened!?” Before they can send their chair flying and crashing against the wall behind them they’re stopped by the flat palm of Asriel’s hand thrown towards them and bouncing with each of his reflexive coughs.

“Wrong throat,” he assures with a pained smirk that he sends over his shoulder for a brief second before he continues to cough over the sink. His form ebbs between tensed and compact to expanding and bellowing with each heave he forces down the metal crater. He tilts his head up to speak again, but all he can produce are some lighthearted guttural noises as his words are sent down his throat by his coughing. “Dammit,” he manages to produce before his coughs overwhelm him again and he begins dunking his fist on the sink with such force that normally Aofil would have some very well chosen word to shout at him.

They do have some for now, but they’re not for his fist, exactly.

“You don’t have lungs!” Aofil retorts for reasons unknown to themselves. What does it even have to do with anything at this point? They’re so full with such a strange concoction of mixed emotions that they’re not sure what the hell they should be doing! 

“Figureofhumanspeech!” Asriel forces out of him before he’s taken over by coughs and hacks to his annoyed dismay. “Just need a bit more-” He breathes in hard through his nose to try and counter the heaves surging up, but it’s too stuffed to provide any help at all. There’s a moment’s respite which he acts upon to drown away the last tickles inside his throat. After which he holds his breath with a single finger raised. He begins to slowly breathe again, his finger bobbing gently in rhythm of his returning breaths. “Just need a bit more water,” he risks. He pauses afterwards with his brow furrowed. 

One last cough he directs into the bend of his arm.

Then he’s done.

“Phew,” he says almost in a whistle as he places down his emptied glass inside the sink. “Don’t think I can do much more like that with my throat now.” His gentle chuckle proves as much as it’s more as an open-mouthed whistle than a laugh. “I gotta speak to my subjects for the first time tomorrow and all that. One tradition I am not gonna follow is scarily bleating and slipping my tongue like my parents did the first time they held their first speech.”

Aofil sits down again from their hurried stand. They did both movements a bit too hastily they can see now through their vision half-clotted with fading dark. Their mind begins spinning, and they clutch their head while they breathe in deeply to get some oxygen back into it.

“Did I scare you?” an out-of-focused Asriel asks as he tilts his head down so Aofil can see him through their half-closed eyes. “I didn’t mean to, if that’s any help.”

“A bit,” they admit while shaking their head to get some blood back to it. “You scared me bit and a half, actually.” Whether their cheeks are flush with emotion or returning blood they’re not sure of. Due to their blood’s absence they wipe their forehead with their furred arm, which leaves behind it some beige strands that disappear down the deepened folds of their forehead. “I need some time to come back from this last half hour.”

“Sorry,” Asriel apologizes while sighing and leaning against the sink’s edge with one hand and one foot folded behind his other. “Didn’t really think how it’d be for you as I was a bit...caught up...in the moment upstairs.” He rubs his chin with his free hand as he speaks, rummaging for what words to use inside the thick growth.

“It’s fine,” Aofil promises while they massage their increased heartbeat out of their cheeks. They finish it off by pushing them in and blowing out their loose lips. “How are you feeling now, by the way?”

Maybe not the most poignant time to ask just after they blew a tired raspberry with their hands still pushing up their cheeks like their grandma is pinching and congratulating them on how big they’ve become.

Or Toriel, in Aofett and Muffil’s case.

Asriel only has to look Aofil in their eyes with his own reddened and almost swollen ones to get his point across. “I’m better now,” he adds though. “I still have some...um...knowledge of how to...not manipulate, but to go from one emotion to the other from Flowey. Guess Chara brought him back for a moment here. He cried for them too down in the Underground when he was...alive, not that he’d call his existence that. Once the crying was over for him though there was nothing left but emptiness, some of it I still feel now that I’m coming down.” After some quiet rubbing of his temples, Asriel reaches down for his glass again. “I’ll have some more if that’s fine with you.”

All this talk about Flowey and Chara taps some very cold fingers against Aofil’s spine. “Yeah, go ahead,” they answer the Prince absentmindedly as they lean hard back against their chair to try and suppress the chill snaking up their spine. They can feel their tail retract as the chill travels higher up, which only worsens it.

“Pbblthg?” wonders Muffin while he gingerly dives underneath Aofil’s furred hand. There’s no immediate scratch, however, and Muffin buffs himself closer to his human to try and warm their aura that’s turned cold all of a sudden. “Ppggblltthh?” he blurts more intensively to try and solicit a reaction from his human, but Aofil keeps sitting still with their chin resting on their human knuckles as they observe Asriel composing himself over their sink.

There’s a slight scratch that has Muffin hopeful for a brief moment before he realizes it was only Aofil’s claws dragging on his head as they lift it up to look at it. Clumsily he moves around the chair and underneath the table to lay himself as support for their human hand instead as it comes down from his human’s chin. No scratch here either, but Muffin knows they need him for some spider reassurance right now. Muffet’s not here, nor are the little ones, so Muffin will have to do. And do he will! “Pbblth!” he musters up to himself.

Aofil focuses the chill into their curled palm as it begins pooling out into their neck. Through their fur it changes from a shivering cold to a fluttering heat that tries to bend Aofil’s fingers as it pools inside their palm.

It’s hot. Like a turned-on stove. 

Dammit.

Disappointed, Aofil lets their arm fall. They can feel the warmed air tussle with it as it falls, but before it can come to a halt at their side, it’s gripped tight around their forearm. Asriel’s hold is secure, but still gentle. He could move it anyway he’d want and Aofil would just have to follow along, but with the care his aura is emitting he’d never do it. Not even Muffin reacts to it.

“I know what my father has told you about what he saw in the flames,” Asriel tells while he lightly coaxes Aofil’s wrist back up. “And he’s right.” With his other hand he produces a crackling spark inside their furry palm through a calm snap of his white finger. It hovers silently where he places it, and he frees Aofil’s arm to let them hold the spark for themselves. “Your fire should be inside your soul, and not in your hand.”

The spark’s strange to their exploration touch. Like a dry carbonation sputtering tender jumps of equally curios flares that bounce off Aofil’s beige fur with only a fading orange color in their wake. They can feel it being fueled from where Asriel gripped their arm, where their fur lies flat in the ravines he squeezed down with his imposing hand. There’s still a feeling of...him...on the bent strands.

“So he said to me as well,” Asriel continues after sitting down in front of Aofil. With another snap his arm is engulfed by a twisting vortex that casts the entire kitchen in a drowning, flickering orange. Just as violently eagerly his flames are summoned they’re sucked in towards his curled palm, forming a flame that is as much raging as it is calm. “My mother has shared with me her wisdom too.” The white ferocity of a forest fire contained within a shell of light-purple as thin as the cowering flame of the last matchstick desperately lit to keep a deadly blizzard at bay, but which radiates hope as bright and warming as a great bonfire lit for the most joyful of festivities.

The way it whirls where the two layers meet is mesmerizing. At the same time it both rages and understands why its here. Why it has been summoned is a panicked and confused mystery to it, yet it remains subdued and obedient.

The magic of a great King.

“What I’ve discovered myself though, is that there’s only so much you can reflect in a mirror. Only so much you can see of yourself when the light you’re using to reflect upon yourself isn’t lit by your own experiences.” Without any effort, Asriel has his magic coil around his fingers where it set ablaze his claws like candles. He brings them together so that they touch, and reforms his flames into a gently pulsating heart. “What we see in our magic is what we are. It is what we come from, and where we are going.” It sizzles without any steam as a tear falls onto it. “This is where my father and I differ though.” However, the flame doesn’t change like how Asgore described it. In fact, it straightens proudly as the tear felt wasn’t of grief like it was shortly ago. “And where my mother’s wisdom fails to apply.” This one is of the same seed that’s birthed his fire. 

“That I have you to thank for, Aofil,” Asriel sighs with content as he lowers his fingers to let the heart float over towards the human sitting enamored by the flourishing display in front of them. As the fiery heart closes in on Aofil the outline of the hunched-over Prince begins to flare up just as violently and distinct as it was in his hand. The entire kitchen behind him is replaced by purple and smoldering curtains that envelop like cozy duvets. “Remember what I asked you when we were at that shore many years ago?”

The answer flushes through Aofil as the fire heart places itself over their chest. If they’re remembering themselves or it is Asriel’s answer that moves their tongue doesn’t really matter right now. “How can I live up to dying?” they say amid the blaze around them. Completely in trust of Asriel, and completely in respect as well.

He bounces his fingers and palms into each other while he scoffs a chuckle through his nose to the side. Despite it being stuffed and not letting any air out, his relief, almost reprieve, disappears from him and is absorbed by the fire around him. Asriel tilts his head back to face Aofil, and while doing so, the fiery curtains open up to end his theater and display, for now it is time for reality. A reality he’s finally found for, and by, himself. “I think I have an answer for that.”

It again surges through Aofil. Up to their cheeks, which almost begin burning from the heat of the clarity. Their tail turns almost crystal-like in its colorful refracting, with the light-purple color of Asriel’s magic dancing with Aofil’s red magic up and down its returning length and thickness. Their spine against tenses as magic runs up it, exploding inside their head as if quenched by a thirst they didn’t even knew they had. It even colors Aofil’s pupils the same purple as the magic for a brief moment before they blink it away, same with how the heart given to them by Asriel dissipates with one last beat.

They can naught but look over to the Prince smiling earnestly with his eyes soft like silk. “Asriel...” Aofil whispers. “I never knew...” They want to reach out and hug him, but what he’s given them is something even more personal. Hugging doesn’t seem respectful, like it would stain what he’s shared with them. His answer to his own question. And even more, how he found it out. Just between the two, and for no one else. “This is...”

“I’ve never told anyone,” he replies. “Until tomorrow, that is. They’ll hear it though, and not experience it like you did. That’s my thanks to you for helping me understand who I am.” He motions with his opened hand towards the spark still hovering inside Aofil’s palm. “Ignite my flame with your own memories and experiences now, Aofil. That way you’ll see what’s inside it, and how you can make sure to never let it escape your grasp.”

Is it their turn now? To find their own answers inside their conjured flames?

Are they ready?

Yes, they’re ready. With a King at their side they’re ready for anything.

“You won’t see yourself as me,” Asriel jokingly assures. “I promise that you won’t. Unless you do want, that is.” With a pair of overly-confident fingers he caresses his beard while pouting slightly and carefully narrowing his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you, human,” he says like he’s trying to smooth out an accordion. 

Instead of smoothing Aofil, Asriel’s words instead has their brow folding deeply as they furrow it against him. Seems like they gotta first make sure that this future King’s feet are still on the ground.

“If my flames turn green you’ll also have to promise me that you won’t try and steal it away like you stole Fuku’s pencil case and pretended to find it to get to talk to her.”

It’s amazing how much time can pass in one second. Years, in Asriel’s case, as his stalwart and respectful expression morphs into teenage tiredness and embarrassment. His shoulders holding up his golden pauldrons fall down at a slouched angle, and his entire robe sighs along with him. “That you still remember it...” he mutters with his head lowered and his long horns tickling the lamp above the kitchen table. “Guess not much has happened in this town while I’ve been gone if that’s still fresh in your head.”

Aofil’s incredibly happy that Asriel didn’t transfer over his memories of his blossoming teenage romance too while he was on it. Because with how hard he crashed and burned with Fuku, outside the metaphorical meaning too with Asgore’s van, they’d also turn philosophical to try and cope with it. “You were almost black as coal like that other Boss Monster who isn’t a Boss Monster that was a couple of classes lower than you, I remember too.” Aofil leans forwards slowly to give Asriel enough time to regret remembering as well. “So surely, you must remember, your highness?”

With a petered fart, the spark inside Aofil’s hand disappears. “Oh no,” worries Asriel while not really. He only moves his mouth functionally to get his faux concern out. “Looks like your facetious ramblings have severed our connection.” He smacks his lips for show. “What a shame.” Still no emotion to be found in his words. “What a shame indeed.”

Aofil lets their furred arm and furrowed brow fall down. “You’re kidding? Tomorrow’s king can’t even handle a slight tease from his old teacher.”

“You said ‘old’ not me,” Asriel remarks as he stands up. Aofil follows suit, but it’s like threatening a tree with a plastic toothpick. “So that one’s on you.” He chuckles friendly. “But seriously, I made the connection in a different mood than what is changing to right now, so that’s why,” he offers as an explanation while straightening his regal robe. “And to be honest, I want this one more than I want the other.” His arms then open for Aofil as they’re welcomed into his embrace. “I’ve missed you all.”

Not even blinking hard can persuade Aofil’s eyes to halt from tearing up. They can only smile at Asriel. How much he’s grown. How much he’s come to understand himself. How splendid his magic’s become. How…

Aofil accepts the embrace with both their arms and both their hearts. It is time now. What had to be said and cried for is done. It’s the time for hugging now. The two can properly greet the other like the longing family they are. “And I’ve missed you too, Asriel.” Aofil lets themselves drown inside Asriel’s comforting arms and soft robe. “We’ve all missed you so much. Look at you!” They choke a sob into the silk of his clothing. “You’ve grown so much. I’m so proud of how well you’ve done for yourself.” Asriel’s fuzzy chin comes down to run over their head as thanks. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you for having me back,” Asriel replies while accidentally dragging a snort through his stuffed nose. “And thank you for letting me say goodbye to Chara.”

“Anytime,” Aofil offers with a nod as they give the large Prince a pat on his back. “Just let me know beforehand next time so that I can coax Muffet and the kids out of the house first.”

“Don’t worry.” Asriel breathes in through the stuffing in his nose, breaking through with a short snort that becomes clear as a whistle immediately after. “That was the last one I needed.”

“Then maybe I should get to packing then.” It was quite a while since they said they would, after all. Aofil breaks from the hug with water still overwhelming their eyes. They reach for the roll of paper towels on the table to dry themselves off. “Luckily your mother not-so-subtly asked us to pack lightly just in case we need to bring some large clothes back. Even less subtly when she came over with some freshly baked snail pie and her rolls of measuring tape.” The trashcan lid opens automatically as Aofil throws their bundled paper towel dotted with tears towards it. It also moves forward to catch their weak throw. “So I’m gonna fetch the bag that’s suitable to bring home a purple robe myself.”

With his hand covering his mouth filled with the monster mucus he just inhaled from clearing his nose, Asriel nods. “You do that.” His careful smile peeks out from the sides of his hand, but not too much so that it begins leaking out from between his exposed teeth.

Thankfully.

“Just gotta fetch my suitcase in the basement.”

“I’ll help.”

“Spit first,” Aofil orders firmly with a monster finger pointing at the small blob beginning to form at the back of his mouth. “After I’ve left the room.” They then leave the room with Muffin in drooling tow. His saliva dries fast enough and doesn’t smell if you have an opened window, but with Asriel just coming home from University they don’t trust the cleanliness of those royal gums of his.

“And I’ll let you use my flames later if you want, by the way.”

What did Aofil say about spitting first? And besides, nah, Aofil won’t need the flames. They’ve faced their life enough. They have that luxury and that they’ll live on. Actually they’re glad that Asriel snuffed the spark so that they didn’t have to say to him that they didn’t want it. He’ll forget about it soon. It’s usually how the subject goes with the monsters. Once something else interesting happens it becomes the priority and everything else that happened earlier in the day falls by the wayside, only to be noticed when the pile reaches above Mt. Ebott.

However, they could do with a bit more courage now that they flick the light on in their basement, they realize with their pout tucked to the side. The illuminated mess looks better when it’s in darkness and invisible. Less of a reminder to Aofil that they need to clean it out soon. Old ovens, old bookshelves, old everything. More dust down here than it would be if the Riot got underway too. “You stay up here, Muffin.” Otherwise all that dust will escape up into the hallway once he finds something interesting to him.

The wish of darkness is partly granted by the long shadow of Asriel rounding the corner and placing himself behind Aofil. However, the darkness only obscures the steps leading down, and all it does is remind Aofil that they also need to change the broken spider-light that’s supposed to shine above the staircase. Maybe if Aofil doesn’t think about it their spine will remember the height of the steps. “But can I come down?” Asriel asks with a voice more his normal tone. Aofil turns around and runs their eyes up and down his clothes.

“Should you?” they retort.“Your mother will kill you and then me if you stain your ceremony robe. The clothes around here aren’t your size anymore to boot. And that boot won’t fit you either. Unless you want to squeeze yourself into Muffet’s old novelty aprons.” Before Asriel can share the extent of his want, if any, Aofil spins around on their heel with their monster index finger raised sternly and their tail coming up to block the rest of the door frame just in case he gets any ideas that’ll haunt Aofil for the rest of their life. “And you don’t want that for even a second, right?”

Asriel only smiles as an answer.

Alright then, guess he’s not allowed down the stairs either. “If the Prince takes one step down the stairs you jump up and hang on his horns, Muffin.”

With his smile still ever present like he’s imitating Sans, Asriel quirks an eyebrow down to Muffin bending his many legs to prepare for a jump. “Attacking a Royal Family brings with it a hefty punishment,” he reminds almost as a threat.

Which runs off Aofil like water on a goose. “I may not be an ambassador like Frisk, but with the amount of money and or bottles of Royal Purple he owes me from our poker nights I could saw off your horns and glue them to my own head without even as much as a hum from him.”

“You’d have to increase the height of your door frames then.” Asriel knocks gently on the top of the one he’s barely standing underneath with his knuckles.

Smiling, Aofil shoots a glance over their shoulder towards the Prince. “And that’s why I haven’t done it already.”

“Guess you’re jealous of Frisk then.” Like magic, Asriel dispels the determined furrow on Muffin’s head by scratching the spider pet behind his ear. He melts almost immediately into a puddle of purring and hummed chittering. “Finally it’s come out.”

“Muffet fell in love with me, not Frisk,” Aofil reminds with their furred arm lifted at the bent and their thumb pointing at them. “So I ain’t got nothing to be jealous of the kiddo of.”

“Still calling them ‘kiddo’? After all these years?”

“Always. Can’t have them growing up going to their head.”

“Or yours?”

Aofil clears their throat violently just suddenly like that. It happens. No reason needed. Not like there was any. Nope. Not at all.

They clear it again.

That’ll throw Asriel off the scent.

Right?

“Maybe I can try on my old sweaters then to un-remind you of the time that’s passed?” Asriel proposes as Aofil’s almost down the stairs. “Mom gave you some boxes of Frisk’s and mine once we moved away, didn’t she?” 

“Yes, that she did. You also wanna know how long you and Frisk have been away?” Aofil infers as a challenge as they reach the end of the staircase. A dose of his own medicine, perhaps? They glance at a nearby covered mattress and debate for a short while whether they should push it out to the end of the staircase in case Asriel faints. “The two are finally large enough to use Frisk and yours old sweaters. Fits them really well. You’ll see them wearing the sweaters at Jarasevo. Before auntie Toriel slips on their ceremonial robes, that is.”

A thud from atop the stairs has Aofil’s amused smirk draining fast, and they round the staircase’s support beams without the thought of how they would actually manage to catch Asriel tumbling down the stairs without injuring themselves something fierce. To their luck they don’t find long, flailing limbs tied up in crashing purple robes. There’s a pair of parallel lines of shadow running down the length of the wooden stairs instead, originating from Asriel’s horns leaning against the top of the door frame. His arms are still swaying just the slightest, with his wrists showing and hiding as his robe follows along the inertia, finally settling and hanging freely just like his stunned jaw.

Seems like he won’t fall from his awkward position, at least. Aofil should take the opportunity to dig out their suitcase. “Make sure he doesn’t move,” they command up the stairs to their pet while they narrow their eyes against the sun sitting perfectly between Asriel’s large horns. “And if he does, let me know.”

So that Aofil can get out of the way in time.

Now, where did that old case go? The basement’s been quite crowded ever since Muffet and Aofil decided to clean out the attic for Muffil and Aoffet to have as a room. The one thing Aofil insisted to be left up there for the two to use was that old chest that used to belong to Chara. It felt fitting that Chara’s niblings would inherit their chest they used to own. Name’s still on it. Aofil won’t tell Asriel about it though. They thought about doing so, but he said that he’s said his goodbyes now. No need to pour salt before the wound’s healed up. He should be able to handle it in the future if he finds out about it. The old mirror with the dots of skin colored make-up on it to hide their cheeks Aofil removed, however. Rubbed the solidified color and donated the hand-held mirror to the school’s theater production. It’s no longer a curse to have those cheeks which blossom with magic. That’s Aofil’s legacy and gift to their twin. Those cheeks shine just as bright on Aofil’s children as it does on them. 

Children that are now too big to ride down Aofil’s tail like what they used to love doing while playing outside. One after the other. Down, and then repelling up with their string, and then down again.

They’re big enough to wear Frisk and Asriel’s old sweaters now…

Another wooden thud bounces between the cement walls of the basement as Aofil sits down hard on a nearby low table. 

Perhaps this means that they can conjure back their spikes on their tail again? No longer a risk for their kids to get stuck and impaled on their parent’s magical tail if they’re not sliding down it any longer.

Oh this has very much backfired on Aofil. It was supposed to stun Asriel! Not them! Seeing how much he’s grown though it was inevitable that they’d begin thinking of their own two kids. Guess Aofil will see how much Aoffet and Muffil grows up to be like Frisk and Asriel.

Hopefully not a lot.

Toriel and Asgore might be strong enough to raise children that can, and have, changed the world, but Aofil’s not. They already did it themselves, so it will have to skip a generation. Perhaps that’s a bit harsh of Aofil to say as a parent, but they renovated an entire attic for their spiderlings, for God’s sake!

Somewhere they gotta draw the line.

Aofil stands up again and breathes out. They have enough clarity to consciously turn their head away from any nearby objects that are covered in dust, which means they have enough clarity to continue searching for their suitcase. It should be somewhere nearby since it was on the attic to begin with. 

Maybe behind those pile of poorly stacked boxes?

“Mom added holes for Aoffet and Muffil’s arms though, right?”

Well they’re not poorly stacked no more. In fact, not stacked at all. Avalanching down over Aofil, however, that they are. A pair of large, white arms stretch out to catch the boxes like they were air just before they begin presenting their solid contents over Aofil’s head. They unfold their own arms forming a protective cocoon of shin and fur over their head, and peek behind them. What greets them has them turning their head quick enough to almost snap the neck of any ordinary human.

Which Aofil is.

Ow.

But besides their neck hurting, where in the absolute hell, be it both monster or human, and even more importantly, why, in the second absolute hell both monster and human?

Why...

Why?

Why!

“Isn’t this like one of those dreams you told us about, Aofil?”

Years!

So many damn years!

Aofil’s been married to one for years too! Had children! Raised monsters themselves!

“You know the one where you visited Alphys and Undyne’s house late at night?”

And they’ll never!

“And then instead of Alphys opening it’s a human?”

Never!

“And then it turns out to actually be Alphys?”

NEVER!

“And that we’ve all been turned into-”

“I’m sick and goddamn tired of you monsters!” Aofil tries to shout defiantly, but with their laughter overwhelming them and making their voice crack with angry joy. “I’ll never understand you! Why are you like this!? Explain, Prince! Explain, King of the Monsters! Why can’t you be normal for one damn second? Singe my soul with you all!”

A silent beat passes as Asriel amuses himself too much, according to Aofil, by waiting for their flimsy cover of shouting to subside, with only their failure to hold in their laughter left to fill the silence. “The more important question, I feel,” he says like it’s the most important thing to him right now. It pisses Aofil off that it is. “Is why Muffet bought some of these in my size.”

Alright! That’s it!

A swift kick born out of Aofil having to at least pretend to be frustrated sweeps the bottom box of the leaning tower Asriel’s holding up. It collapses over him in a symphony of metal and book percussion followed by a melody of his brassy bleating as he’s covered in stuffed cardboard. 

Oh, there’s the suitcase. It was underneath the boxes.

Perfect.

The Prince can figure his own way out of the pile of strewn curios over him bouncing in rhythm with his hefty laughter interrupted periodically by the dust making him cough. “My throat, Aofil,” he reminds as they lug their luggage up the stairs.

Should’ve thought about it before you assaulted Aofil by appearing right behind them like a ghost wearing one of Muffet’s novelty aprons, Prince.

“I’m gonna use your shower then!” he shouts, in complete disregard to what he just tried to remind Aofil of.

Their head falls down as they reach the top of the stairs, with Muffin putting up two pairs of legs on Aofil’s jeans and quirking his head curiously to the side. They follow his drying trail of saliva with their eyes over to the coat rack in their hallway where a beautiful and ornate purple robe fir for a king hangs next to an old raincoat with two holes for arms, and another raincoat with six holes for arms. With a weary sigh Aofil lolls their head back, blowing their lips in the process. “Why do I love these monsters so?” they ask no one, because no one can answer it. “Just be careful with the shower cabin,” Aofil sighs back down into basement. “Muffet had it commissioned with spider webs.”

“I’ll pay for it if I-”

“It’s the principle!” Aofil interrupts, again wearily against their own hilarity to this whole situation. There’s some faint nostalgia to another monster using their shower mixed in as well. It was a given back in the day when they lived in Mt. Ebott when Undyne would visit. Aofil’s deeper than the Underground with these monsters if they’re feeling nostalgic about them using their shower without asking and breaking in without asking. Still, it’s good that the monsters are at least asking now. Some hint of respect. 

Finally!

“I’ll be in the master bedroom packing.”

“Sounds-” Asriel sneezes. “Sounds good.”

“And fix the mess you did.”

“I did? Only I?”

Yes.

//

“You know...”

Aofil lowers down their flipped-up lid of their suitcase to see over it from their kneeled position as they pack. It’s been a couple of minutes since the blasting water quieted down from across the upstairs hallway. 

Asriel stands in the door frame with a towel wrapped around his waist, and with another in his hand drying underneath one of his heavy ears.

“I’m still not Fuku, Asriel,” Aofil reminds as their plastered smile disappears behind their suitcase’s lid that they flip up again so that he’s hidden behind hit. Apart from his horns, that is. “So please put on a shirt.”

His amused and confident scoff might be enough to woo any of the monsters that had the luxury of sharing the same campus as him, but it falls silent on Aofil’s deaf ears. The only thing they hear are the drops knocking on the wooden floor below him. Must be from his other ear that he hasn’t dried yet. “I won’t steal you away from Muffet, don’t worry.”

“You’re not using the right towels.” Aofil throws up their furred hand to point accusingly without looking. “Those are for the spiders, and they won’t absorb as well as the towels for the fur does.”

“Huh...”

He’s joking, right?

“I bought these kind of towels at University since they scratch really well,” Asriel explains with a muffled voice. “Does good for my dandruff.”

“And that it also has you standing without a shirt on for longer since it dries you worse I’m guessing was another reason your bought those?” The long silence following Aofil’s question is answer enough for them. Asriel talking about his dandruff has them listening even harder for him drying himself of with the spider-towels. The second they hear the fabric similar to the rough side of a scouring pad scratch on his skin underneath his thick fur Aofil will chastise him for bringing snow indoors. “If I ask you to put on a sweater instead will you do that?”

“Speaking of sweaters.” Wet and rough fabric slaps against poorly-dried fur, and Aofil shakes their head behind their suitcase. “Didn’t mom offer to make the two their own sweaters?”

There are no audible drops any longer, but Aofil’s still on edge for them to begin again any second now. “As soon as Muffet and I agree on the colors,” they answer as they fold in a second pair of jeans into their luggage. One pair blue and one pair black in case Aofil’s missed something on the list they got from Toriel.

Or more, in case Toriel assumed that it was obvious to Aofil whatever it was she was assuming.

“Heh,” Asriel again scoffs muffled. “Gonna be a while then.”

Shouldn’t be too much more now. The weather forecast for Jarasevo doesn’t state any risk of rain, so there shouldn’t be a problem stuffing the purple robes into their suitcase for the way home. “Probably,” they answer Asriel while adding another pair of socks to the neatly folded pile. Scandalous for a royal ceremony, maybe. Should be fine though. “Purple is a given, but it’s the secondary color that we’ve yet to choose.”

“Shouldn’t Muffil and Aoffet be the ones choosing?”

A tickled mist shoots out of the chortle forced between Aofil’s lips. “Oh then it’ll take even longer! I’ve tried again and again with saying to Toriel that the colors don’t really matter, but you know how she is.” They form a mouth with their furred hand. “It’s a choice most important for us, Aofil,” they have it speak while imitating Toriel.

Poorly.

“Oh mom,” Asriel piques, “I didn’t know you had botched surgery on your throat.”

“Ha ha, my child. You’re hilarious, my child,” Toriel’s strained voice speaks out of tune and emotion. “The colors should represent both you and Muffet, Aofil. Her monster purple and both the human and monster side of you. Spend time on this, my dear human. Your children deserve as much.”

“If I’m gonna be honest, to me it sounds like she was stalling. Probably said it so that she could stock up on yarn. She’s got a lot of arms to sew for the two, after all.” 

“Yeah well I’m not gonna challenge her on that,” Aofil makes clear as they return their hand to packing from imitating. “Not gonna look a gift Boss Monster in the mouth.”

“Gift employer, you mean?”

“That too.” Although Aofil’s done things much worse than asking their school’s principal for some striped sweaters. The cloud trick with their mouth has become a tradition outside of their control now, so they’ve had to up their game to more...lavish...displays. Some a bit more lavish than other. Too lavish, some would say.

Like Toriel.

Not Undyne though. She’s a good measuring stick though. If it’s too much for even her confidence to take in stride, then maybe Aofil should put away the vials of potent acids.

They can still smell the faint whiff of the hole the chemicals burnt into their desk even to this day.

“Who of the two wears my green and yellow ones, if I may? I’m curious. And hey, maybe it gives you a clue which color looks good on them?”

Aofil shouldn’t really answer that while Asriel’s half-naked, but then again it’s only the two here. “Aofett.” The messenger spiders and the cake Aofil has already packed and are waiting down in the kitchen. Their gamble that Asriel would take a short while using the shower backfired. Or chestfired, in this case.

A sigh through wet fabric almost has the suitcase lid falling down. “Dammit.”

With a confused hand Aofil pushes the lid back upright as it begins tilting over them. “Dammit?” What does he mean by that?

“I wagered Muffil.”

Wagered? What the hell? “With who?”

“Whom.”

“Shut up.” Aofil gets a chuckle in return that they gladly let slip past them without acknowledging. “Who is the person you wagered with?”

“Frisk.”

Should’ve figured. “You two kids will never be your Royal status. You’ll act it, yes, but never be it.”

The two impressive horns peeking above the suitcase lid bounce in a shrug. “They were the one suggesting it,” Asriel defends before his horn and the rest of him bend down and then walk off into the bathroom again.

“But you didn’t say no!” Aofil shouts after him as he closes the door. They time them closing the lid with the Prince closing the door as they’re curious if it’ll harmonize.

It didn’t.

Oh well.

A glistening white bust angles into the door frame of the master bedroom again. “Should I hang up the towels or put them in the laundry basket?”

Aofil holds their gaze against Asriel, but his face is still tightly dragged into a genuinely questioning expression despite Aofil’s challenging blinks. Their head begins shaking slowly. “You’ve lived alone for far too long.” Asriel looks down guiltily while reflexively smirking. His Prince Charming methods still have no power around here, and it only furthers Aofil’s shaking of their head until their hair swivels across their face like windy curtains. They lament a deep sigh before tapping their thumb on their closed luggage. “To have a King tomorrow that today is still wet from the womb...”

“If you know that I don’t have any lungs then you must also know that us monsters aren’t born the same way you humans are.” Asriel’s eyes narrow and his muzzle furrows playfully. “You’ve had two, Aofil, and you still don’t know?”

“Put. On. A. God. Damn. Shirt. My. Dear. Prince!”

The Prince’s hand raises questioningly from behind his back. In it is the towel he still has no idea where to put it exactly. A straight answer would get him to put it away and free his hands up to put on a damn shirt.

“Laundry,” Aofil sighs out without emotion.

“Thank you~,” Asriel then sings as he slinks off into the bathroom again.

Hurried steps fly down the stairs with the packed suitcase held in its handle with a human and a monster hand. Aofil shoots a glimpse over to the coat rack to see that Asriel’s robe is gone. He must’ve brought it with him into the bathroom. A slight temptation flushes through Aofil as they imagine playing some overly dramatic choir-singing as Asriel walks down the stairs from his elevated position, both figuratively and literally. They allow the temptation to birth a chuckle that they expel while lifting up their suitcase on the kitchen table next to the cake package and the jar of spiders. The heavy emotions that were shared a short while ago have all aired out by now. Enough

As they try and turn away though, they’re stopped. Gently bitten at their shin, with desperate huffs and moans coming from underneath the table. “Muffin...” Aofil sighs melancholy. “I know. I know,” they comfort to their spider pet sniffing and slobbering as it cowers in sadness. “Tylior will come over and pick you up later today, I promise. You’ll get to intimidate with Sevoltne again. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

The small smile slipping through Muffin’s angry demeanor quickly fades as he rebuilds his stone-faced huffing. “I saw that,” Aofil teases while sinking their claws in behind Muffin’s ear. Deep scratches. “And we’ll all be back soon. You know that.”

“Ppbgglthr...”

“There you go, Muffin,” Aofil finishes of by squeezing the spider’s cheeks and lifting them up to force a smile on him. “No hanging cheeks.” They droop down even further as they let go, and Muffin slinks off into the living room and jumps up on the sofa with his back defiantly turned against his owner.

“Any last thing you need my help with before we leave?” offers Asriel while fluffing up the tuft on his head. “You got everything packed?”

“Just gotta shut the windows.”

“Right.” Asriel nods towards the living room. “I’ll take this way then. I’ve also called for a taxi.”

A what? Aofil’s hand hangs on the handle to their opened kitchen window. “A taxi?”

“How else are we supposed to get to the airport?” comes from the living room somewhat confused. Asriel’s face turns questioningly to the side as he locks the handle on the window he just closed with his weight leaning on it. “Don’t think we’ll manage in time if we walk.”

“I don’t know?” With their brow furrowed, Aofil picks up their suitcase and carries it with them to the hallway. “Something more prestigious for the King of the Monsters?” they then shout around the living room corner.

“Tomorrow I’m gonna be the King,” the Prince reminds. “Today we’re using a taxi.”

“So being a prince isn’t good enough?”

“For what?” Asriel’s even furrowed brow asks as he tilts it out from the kitchen. “A horse-carriage?” He swoops up the cake package and jar of spiders effortlessly. “We’ll never make it in time with that either!”

“Alright!” Aofil has to concede on that point. “Alright.” They open up the door for Asriel so that he can get what he is carrying out of the house. Down the steps he’s placed his own bags. There’s tell-tale signs of glue residue from the stickers he’s removed. How many and how risque they were for Asriel to conclude that he had to remove them all is something Aofil’s not exactly keen on asking in case they get captured and magically forced to spill the secrets that the King of the Monsters had stickers of himself in various states of nude on his bags when he was crowned.

And speaking of crowns.

“You keep your crown in your carry-on?”

“Couldn’t fit it inside my suitcase.”

“And why do you only have one? Can’t a soon to be King of the Monsters get to pack two suitcases? Is your status as a prince worth less than my librarby card?” Aofil shouldn’t really be surprised by all of this since they’ve lived down the street of the Royal Family and not once has there been any parades or even trumpets played from up the road. It’s good, means Aofil hasn’t been woken up by a Royal Decree spouted by a crier early in the weekend mornings.

Still, taxi to the airport and future crown in a carry-on case? Make no mistake, Aofil is over Mt. Ebott with excitement to be flying first class, but now they’re begin to suspect that it isn’t out of kindheartedness from the Royal Family, but out of necessity. Asriel squeezing himself into an economy class seat? Not even with magic could he do that!

“It’ll go through customs,” he assures while slinging his carry-on over his shoulder.

Aofil lets the rustle of their key-ring spinning around their finger to the talking for them. “...Sure.” They catch their house key and lock their door with a reflexive turn of their wrist. “Set guest access for Tylior,” they then instruct the spider-webbed panel next to the doorbell. “Key-less, password ‘Season two of Mew Mew is superior’.” Aofil turns back towards the road.

What meets them is Asriel’s face scrunched up in both disgust and confusion. “Not really a password as much as it is a passphrase?” He clears his throat. “And why?” His question holds more weight than the world.

“Because he’s wrong just like Alphys is,” Aofil explains likes its’ obvious. “Gotta make sure he learns any way I can.” They tap a knuckle against the door panel. “Escalation is necessary if nothing else works.”

“But what if he refuses to speak it?”

“Then he won’t be able to leave Muffin back into the house. I’ve given him a key, but when the panel informs him that he has a key-less option he’ll gladly use that one instead. He puts in the key in the panel, and then is told his password. It does so when the door is locked for the first time with the guest access, and not when it’s first unlocked. A quirk of Alphys’ programming, but now that I’ve learned about it so many doors have opened up to me, funnily enough.”

The air between the smiling human and frowning monster turns a bit bitter. Unsure. Asriel’s neck cranes back just the slightest. “…Were you always this evil, Aofil?”

“Well...” they emit through a hum before throwing up a clawed thumb and swinging their arm in front of them. “I’m part monster, aren’t I?”

The bitterness dissipates with a puff, and Asriel shakes his head with his eyes closed. He takes a deep and disappointed breath. “And fully racist, it appears.”

“Well I’m part human too,” they agree in passing while swiveling their head down the road. “Now where’s that cab, Prince?”

From a pocket inside his robe he produces a watch that’s chained with, what appears to be, gold. It has a different shine to it than his pauldrons, which means it might be brass? Or perhaps his shoulders are brass? One or the other. “We have quite a bit of time, so there’s no stress.” He bounces the watch in his hand for a thoughtful second. “You know...” He closes his while inhaling audibly through his nose. “Could we make a slight detour, actually?”

Don’t think a lot could be more enticing than lounging in the first class commodities at the airport. “What did you have in mind? Lunch? We’re having some at the airport though, right? The first class lounge?”

“I was thinking we’d ask the driver to swing by Ebott.”

Okay? “Why?”

“For starters I was thinking of picking up a magnifying glass from the pastor there,” Asriel begins with a very obvious undercurrent to his voice that it isn’t close to what he actually wants. He tries to disarm by throwing up his hand haphazardly and rolling his wrist. “Something about him wanting a new one for this new era. Apparently he got one way back from another priest, and now he wants a new one to commemorate. I didn’t get much else out of him as he bonked me on the head with his hammer while telling me how much I took after my father. He shook his head amusingly afterwards while guffawing.”

Touching. Genuinely. However, it’s not the reason. The real reason. Aofil holds eye contact with Asriel, and it’s not long before he caves, almost as if he wanted to in the first place.

“I’d like to show your family too how I look as the King. They’re family to Chara and to me too, in a way.”

But… “You said that you didn’t need to cry again.” He seemed so genuine. “You’re always welcome to, you know?”

“No, I’m fine. It was the last time for me. I’s just that...I think they’d appreciate it.” He smiles at Aofil. “That’s all. I promise.” Warm, caring, and respectful. Not like Toriel. Not like Asgore.

But as Asriel.

His own brand that’s he’s grown all by himself. There isn’t the slightest hint of his parents anywhere on him right now. The gentle bend of his eyelids radiating both want and understanding. The way the slight wind brushes past his gently-tugged muzzle, swaying his fur over his smiling lips. That one fang pointing downwards and exposing itself to show how trustful he is.

Sure, they can do that. They can take the detour. The first class can wait. For a thousand years it can wait!

...Maybe not a thousand years since Aofil’s getting a bit peckish. Maybe a hundred years? Ten? One should be enough.

“Sounds good to me,” Aofil says. “It’s been a while since I visited. Took the kids and Muffet with me last time. The Pastor had his brow furrowed when he saw my magic for the first time. I could see his mouth say that name of the mage he thought was my relative.”

“Cter?” Asriel quirks after some thinking.

“Yeah, her.” Aofil nods towards the black car moving around the corner, and picks up their bag and jars of spiders. “The aspen is nice this time of year as well.”

“Birch.”

Their step is halted as if walking into a brick wall. “Birch?” they ask back. “What do you mean?”

“The tree behind the grave is a birch.”

“It’s not a birch. It’s a...” Wait…

Wait…

Wait!

Oh. My. God. 

He’s right!

It is a birch. It is a birch...

How… 

Why did Aofil call it an aspen? They’ve done so for years! 

“I’ve been calling it an aspen since...” they mutter out loud as the taxi pulls up next to their mailbox. Asriel’s quick to gesture for the driver to keep her hat on. It’s second nature to him at this point. “Why has no one corrected me?”

A joyous, almost perverse smile leans down in front of them. The softness in Asriel’s eyes have been replaced by utter and sheer joy. The savoring he’s extracting from this quiet second fills him with giddy he shouldn’t really enjoy as a king, but that he will remember for the rest of his life as a prince.

“Because we’re monsters.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> And here’s where we will be leaving the monsters and the human-monsters. They’ve been through a lot, and now I feel that it is time for them to live the rest of their life for themselves. They deserve as much, I feel.
> 
> It’s been a very good three years of writing, and I’ve learned quite a lot during these many fics. I’ve written by the seat of my pants for the entire time and gone from week to week not being sure what the next chapter will take me and my story. It’s forced me to learn discipline to be consistent and to also improve my writing.
> 
> All of that learning I will now be putting into another story which I’ve hinted a bit about. I’ve covered Toriel and Asgore falling in love and the events that occurred after the Barrier broke, so to me there’s one period left that I want to explore and share my take on.
> 
> The events leading up to the Barrier’s creation.
> 
> I will be doing things differently this time around though, because I have something planned that I don’t think anyone else has done in the Undertale fandom yet. Trust me when I say that it’ll be my biggest undertaking yet, but to do so I want to plan everything out beforehand so that I can really bring it all together the way I’ve envisioned it. 
> 
> This means that I won’t be visibly active for awhile. I will be sharing a chapter to let you all know that things are starting up once I have it all together, but I can’t give you a time-frame on it at the moment. I have some minor stuff coming out in a while that I’ve written earlier, so at least there’s something. There's also my ToriGorey story The Fireball in Jarasevo to tie you over.
> 
> Wrapping this all up, I want to thank you all for reading. Aofil would too, and they’d watch the thunder from their patio and tell you all about how difficult it is to raise spiderlings as a human. Of course they’d let you touch their tail too.
> 
> Stay tuned for the adventures of Cter, the mage, and her (Yes, gendered OC! See how far I’ve come!) story that will take her from a mere University graduate to deciding the fate of two races. [The Fanfic Paradise Discord channel.](https://discord.gg/sXVXy7w) that I have linked as I mold my next writing endeavor. I’m sure I can be persuaded to let some hints slip.


End file.
